 I'm here, but not here. Good evening, everyone. We'll get started in just a second. I'm waiting for everybody to enter the room. Welcome, everybody, this evening. You're in for a treat tonight. Welcome, everybody. So welcome to tonight's program, Poetry and Resistance, Art and Conversation with Contemporary Giants of Mississippi, hosted by San Francisco's poet laureate, Tongo Eisen Martin. So looking forward to this lineup tonight, this poetry and the learning, the stories we're gonna hear about community work and activism. I'm Shauna Sherman, manager of the African-American Center at SFPL, here to start us off with the land acknowledgement and a few announcements. Welcome to the unceded land of the Ohlone Tribal people. We acknowledge the many Ramaytu Sholone Tribal groups and the families as the rightful stewards of the lands on which we reside. SFPL is committed to uplifting the name of these lands and community members from these nations with whom we live together. SFPL encourages you to learn more about first-person culture and land rights and are committed to hosting events and providing educational resources on these topics. Next slide, please. Summer stride is almost here. Starting on June 1st, which is Tuesday, I can't believe it, we're almost in June. 20 hours of participation in our yearly reading and activity program earns you the 2021 Summer Stride Tote. This program is open to all ages. You can find more information on our website, including a slew of enlightening programs and entertaining programs held online throughout the summer. Also on June 1st, we'll be hosting author Brantes Pernell, who will be in our virtual library in conversation with Alvin Orloff, discussing his new short story collection, 100 Boyfriends. That's June 1st, at 7 p.m. And author Marlon Peterson and Kiesi Lehmann in conversation moderated by our SF poet, Laureate Tongo Isen-Martin, discussing Peterson's new book, Bird Uncaged, an abolitionist's freedom song. And that's on June 21st, at 7 p.m. And I'm loving that picture of you, Tongo, in this, in the bottom here. I've never seen that one. Owning the main looks good. So now on to our program. Take it away, Tongo. Thank you very much, Shana. And thank you to the public library for allowing me to rent a muck. You know, when I first were kind of giving the keys to a car, this reading was the first thing that popped into my mind, not to center myself, but I have to give a testimony you have various moments of reincarnation in your life in which you are raised again. And in this way, I was definitely raised in Jackson, Mississippi when I think about people who are the light and example of how art is supposed to be, it's supposed to be facilitated, how artists are supposed to evolve alongside each other and how artists should never turn their back on the people and in fact, only reproduce themselves through a commitment to their people. And, you know, no one person, no 100,000 people, only a supernatural voice could ever do justice to those that carried on the streets and struggling in Mississippi, you know, start to the one day finish, no one can do justice to the artists who have stuck around, right? And declare that they were not going to, you know, escape to whatever individual adventure would bring them whatever fame and fortune, man. Those that said, no, we're gonna stand here, make our renaissance here. These folks were absolutely, I mean, you know, it's more than my second home. It is a first home that I was brought in from the cold. And so, you know, I just, I'll get out the way now, but it's, you know, I just, I can't express enough how much I love these writers, both as artists and as just warriors of light, you know what I mean? So without further ado, I will, they can speak for them, they can speak for themselves. So the first, the first poet to bless us will be C. Lee McGinnis. C. Lee McGinnis is a poet, short story writer, instructor of English at Jackson State University, former publisher and editor of Black Magnolia's literary journal, which interestingly, I'm sorry, I'm gonna hit you with the director's commentary, hit you with the director's commentary throughout this DVD. But actually Black Magnolia was the first publication actually to publish me. This is before I even got to Mississippi. Me and C. Lee actually met a while before. And Black Magnolia was the first to put a poem of mine into the atmosphere. So must love and recognition just to the journal itself. But he's the author of eight books, including four collections of poetry, one collection of short fiction, scripts, sketches and tales of urban Mississippi, one work of literary criticism, the lyrics of prints, a literary look at creative musical, poet, philosopher, and storyteller, and one co-authored work, Brother Hollis, The San Cofo of a Movement, man. And on and on and on and on. I mean, he's the realest deal. And you know, and he's really the leader of us all. So without further ramble, C. Lee McGinnis. So, Brother Tango, thank you so much, man. And again, myself and all the poets. And one thing everybody is gonna tell me how much we love you and, you know, it's mutual because when you showed up on our Doe Step in Mississippi, you were shot in the arm, folks fell in love with you because, you know, you didn't just bring quality writing, you brought a passion to help people with your quality writing. And that's really, I think, what this night is all about. So without further ado, I'm gonna read my first poem. And I'm just so happy to be a part of this poetic cipher with all of these poets that we have. And so my first poem is a poem that was actually in my book, it was in a book that I wrote in 2002. But it really became my manifesto for me thinking about what kind of writer did I want to be? And so when I was really thinking about what kind of writer I wanted to be and the impact that I wanted my work to make. And this just came from me and it simply titled, What Good Are Poems? Can a poem be as effective as a 357? Can the images of a poem spray buckshot holes into the body of a green backstuff sheet wearing shot can a poem be thrown as they break through the window of a grocery store. So we may pillage and plunder its shells for food for the hungry can a poem be laid on top of a poem be laid on top of a poem be laid on top of a poem be laid on top of a poem until we have built the shelter for the homeless. Does a poem need a million dollar war chest or a foundation granted the mightier than the sword? What good does a poem do a spoiled bloated belly can a poem lay hands on the sick and clothed and naked can a poem work hoodoo on the ACT store can a poem pull the rent payment from a magician's hat can poems assassinate Negro turncoats who have sold their souls to racist rags can poems cut short the lives of serpentine superintendents who slightly suffocate African babies in Euro excrement disguised as Caucasian curriculums. Poets are the African bees of political pollination and poems are the sperm of revolution. We need poets to stop adding extra syrup and saccharine to their sun so as to appease the pale patterns of people who have not the stomach for straight no-chaser truth. We need poets to stop mindlessly masturbating away their talents into the mental napkins of all the sex audiences. We need poets to start impregnating thoughts of black magnolias bursting through white cement into the minds of raven virgins souls who without it tall in the reproductive process of self-aversion poems are the sperms of revolution. Are you making love to your people or simply fornicating away your existence? Thank you. Man, I forgot I was the host, you know. Yeah, that was off the chain and we'll hear from Ceeley again. Next, Halima J. Olufemi. In her bio, she writes, my name is Halima Olufemi and I was born and raised in Jackson, Mississippi. I am a member of the Malcolm X grassroots movement, Jackson's People's Assembly, and Volunteer with People's Advocacy Institute, my poetry centers around social justice and black feminist thought. And if I just may add a few more seconds to the bio, Halima is the only revolutionary. Her selfless dedication and dedication and struggle and brilliance with which she approaches it and her love of our people is unrivaled, unparalleled. And so please give a really special welcome to the screen for Halima. Thank you. Thank you, Tongo. Thank you all for hosting this. You know, Tongo came to Jackson and we met in a garden, the garden of Eden. No, it was a community garden MXGM had at the time. And we have been, that's my dog forever since. My first poem, my first poem is called First Time. And what I discussed, it is a trigger for some people, I would think. And it discusses things that happen to me, things that have happened to black women that I've discussed with. And I hope that you like it. And here it goes. Did my outfit say I wanted to be right? Let her lay in that puddle of blood. Mama cleaned the sheets later. Did it glide you between my legs at the expense of my feelings, my past with pain? Could you see me bleeding? I mean, you did walk me home after you finished. Couldn't look me in the eye, but I thank you for your chivalry. Ain't nothing like your first time when you don't know it's your first time. I heard in ways you can't imagine. See, I was forcibly introduced to the treachery of false prophets. And righteously, what I learned mostly is I don't need a savior to crown my trauma. Like Frida Kahlo, I'm fragile like a bomb, not a flower. And the pain I carry isn't always my own. It is residue from the visceral spirit of thieves who pillaged the temple with bloody swords and vicious tongues, trying to conquer or break or tame my spirit like their masters before them. Demanding respect, they had no intentions on giving, expecting loyalty for many women. They show their attention because we've been conditioned to think that our lives are a little consequence, absent that of a man. They honestly think we should seek their validation. We are encouraged to hold on the pieces of them rather than embrace the whole of ourselves. And even though we were built to recover from pain, it is cruel and unconscionable to exploit our emotions just to make your nut more pleasurable. We are shamed for our emotional tirades that were triggered by emotional tyrants wearing leather belts or baseball caps or blue suits with designer shades. Projecting their insecurities on our independence throwing stones at shadows and bricks at shade. See, I have no desire to love under the rest. Against the standard, there wasn't hours to begin with making unreasonable comparisons and unreasonable requests using slaveocracy as a guide. But damn, baby, you sound average. No, I'm really not. You just feel threatened because I'm a warrior too and my tongue pierces pride like a spear in the hand of a zulu wearing a mask to ward off cowards tethered the chaos fighting on me too. I'm not soft enough for you, not modest enough for you, and I'd rather be alone than to be controlled by you. I mean, really? You shouldn't want me to be your slave. What the hell is too independent anyway? People only discredit the value of independence when it comes to black women, but embrace our anger to benefit their causes. We teach girls to shrink themselves and their sexuality is different for them and that we should act beholden to men for the inalienable right to live. Seek permission and cater to their whims when it is us who kept them safe inside our wombs before they knew what it meant to live. But you can't do what a man do, baby. I'm so sick of hearing that shit. You don't have the right to tell me how it exists which forces me into the role of a feminist because you refuse to treat me like a human. I'm not a pet. I don't step in fetch. So if I tell you to kiss my ass, you attack, question my femininity and liken me to a man because I won't jump through hoops to serve you. Cooking is a life skill, not a gender role, and my appearance has nothing to do with you. So who cares if you like my hair short or long, curly or straight, natural or fake, trying to uphold the European standard of beauty to placate your preference, vying for attention to be emotionally mistreated. You can't even imagine what it feels like to be a woman to somebody to call you a bitch. Then you damn near have a heart attack of want to fight whoever said it, especially if it's a woman. You're feeling masculated because there's nothing worse than being a woman, right? Except being seen as a woman or called a woman by a woman who knows what it feels like to be the colloquial bitch. Now think about the gravity of that shit. How little you think of us and how little we've been taught to think of ourselves. Fanny Berry or William said, what our girls and women have a right to demand from our best men is that they cease to imitate the artificial standards of other people and create a race standard of their own. Who better than you should understand what it means to be forcibly taken, to be seen as less than human with a mandate to live under the rules of someone else. It's like you can't see suffering if you're not the center of attention. And most of the time all we need you to do is listen, stop supporting the world's efforts to misappropriate the strength of black women and help us to retain it for our healing. And please understand, we are acutely aware of the hatred that exists against black men and we fight for you. All we want you to do is fight for us too. The end. Yep. See that one, that we all need to take a breath together and grow on that one. Please give more love to Halima Olufemi right on. So next to the cipher is a brother who did not send me a bio, but that is just fine, you know, because my heart is working this evening and I can speak from it. So Josephus Martin also known as Skip Kuhn is the is the is the power plant within the power plant, you know, he is he's lent his mind, body and soul to all of the modern renaissance is of Mississippi. And on a personal note, he actually is the father of my style in that state hang with me in that it was for his album called album called Myles Garvey that everybody should should pick up. It was his request that I write an intro intro poem for the album. And before that poem, I thought everything I was writing was terrible and nonsensical. And it was in that opportunity actually was the first poem I wrote of a species of poem that had taken me around the world. So I have to give credit to the cradle is all I'm saying. And in dozens of artists have passed through his way or artists in movement, people both. So without further ado, Skip Kuhn. I still remember you offalding that little piece of paper and reading that like that was great. Yeah, I love you, Tom, you're a good dude. All right. So here it is. I'm standing on this corner like God ain't returning in his ghetto and burning bright. Cracker school kicked me out. I wasn't learning right. So through it all, we learned to fight. Every wrong started right. Bacon, soda, water, ice, we was property. In the bill of rights, gunshot, loss of life, poor medicine, the sprite, the crackers in the courage. So we flashing our lights and it's concrete further. We just need some sunlight. So reject God except Pope the guys. Judas got silver rights. Just do it. Did it for might sell death. Do the same self a life cut once measured twice. Congregate on this corner. Come to this heist. They got his gas running lights, but then we blew it off for the wood painting pipes, body on the asphalt, neighbors flashing lights, copper pigs, tragedy. This is jagged life. Rugal remits of armor like pitch crack, pitch black, bike claw scratch, because the pigs and the rats cooperating in the trap. Republicans, Democrats, Goldman Sachs keep the meat on the table, but the floor gets scraps. I'm on the floor where the poor people at. The victim, what a denim perpetrators, what a slacks. The CCA got blacks on racks and Bob Barker supplies the clothes on their back. BET teaches our kids how to act. EBT gives them their meals and they snacks. The IMF, NYSE, NASDAQ make the world bang God. So we all pray to black, but I'm confused. These guns and yoga mats bullets, the book of acts he leech create the facts. Pote of gas, pray for fire. I'd rather just strike a match, watch it burn to the ground and then we start from scratch. Like Rugal remits of armor like. Yeah, yeah, right on. More love for skip, please. Next up, Monica Adkins. And if I may interrupt again, if I may interrupt these bios again, just because, you know, these people are not doing themselves enough justice. You think you've seen, you know, you think you've seen revolutionaries, you haven't seen revolutionary, modern revolutionaries until you've been to Mississippi, you know. In these, you know, in places like, you know, San Francisco, you know, other places that consider themselves kind of cultural vanguards. We do have some groovy people walking around. We're talking about just the kind of the embodiment of just putting in that revolutionary work, that tireless work, that anonymous work. It's that example you only find in Mississippi. And the embodiment of this embodiment is Monica Adkins. She writes, freedom and justice called me early in life to listen to my intuition, hear the voices of my ancestors and lead unapologetically through life, breaking every barrier on this journey, even if I didn't believe I could. I found my way by way of the Mississippi River from Chicago, welcomed by familiar spirits and hospitality and lands of the Natchez, Choctaw and Old Folk Peoples of Jackson, Mississippi. Monica Serial, the messenger Adkins is a cultural worker and organizer who is passionate about organizing with communities, organizing for self-determination and self-governance. Adkins experience organizing is built upon her leadership with the labor movement and another end of Russian. I mean, she gets it in building worker power with unions including the United Auto Worker, American Federation of Teachers and Communication Workers of America through direct action, cultural events and more. It is through these experiences that she began to organize Solidarity Economies as a member of Cooperation Jackson to build worker power and ownership while organizing with the Climate Justice Alliance to expand the Just Transition Framework in the Southeast more and more and more and more but we'll let her take it from here. I would say this brother just... I had to get him in, he needed it all, man. He said he got it all in, he killed me. I definitely appreciate all of that and I think, yeah, Tango, just Solid Brother, I think we had met doing some of the art, poetry and justice, the youth art slams that we would be doing and that's really how we connected and he was just always like the really tall guy everywhere as well, so couldn't really miss him but definitely a blessing to be here and just even being able to share and be seen in that way too. Like these are people that I've looked up to and to be considered with the greats is a blessing. So, yeah, this poem is about, let me see, the root cause of like every crisis, white supremacy and capitalism. So, and definitely had the name, some of the greats, Fannie Lou and Ella Baker, the influences, the things that I brought in on my organizing journey, like these powerful sisters' words have resonated and so this is I Question America. Cash rules, everything around me, cream, get the money, dollar, dollar bills, y'all. I said cash rules, everything around me, cream, get the money, dollar, dollar bills, nah. Let the people break borders forever breaking barriers, living in a state where I question America. Nobody asked you who you were or where you were from. Never asked your dialect, just stripped your native tongue when you were stolen, the count of this three fifths when you were a whole person, beaten and rearranged, carried by the enforcement to the land of your mother's cry. To a place where strange fruit hangs high, how do your eyes speak pride that's unbroken when they let you know our bodies are not our choice? No more freer than a cage bird. The gift and the curse of being a colored woman in a white world, yet still on the throne, drinking nectar with God. What would be the eyes that you'd be the one they applaud, Queen? I said the personal becomes political while carrying the food of our limbs on our chest. Holding the contributions of our grandmothers in our hands can let them tell our story of how we sojourned our truth through Jim and Jane Crow and pushed back on efforts to enact black codes. This is for the sick and tired of being sick and tired of our bodies being sterilized in exchange of our welfare. Like getting a vaccine to me is entering a new spiritual warfare. Don't vaccinate me with the mark of the beast. Never accept their apologies when nobody asked for permission for us to become commodity exploited from the depths of our souls to the soles of our feet, all for the dollar that drenches of our blood. When cash rules everything around me, cream get the money, dollar dollar bills y'all. I said cash rules everything around me, cream get the money, dollar dollar bills y'all. Let the people break borders forever breaking barriers living in a state where I question America and why we must fight like hell for every diamond sent. Organizing to protect the value of our labor, channeling the energy of the washer women of Jackson in 1866, praying for our babies that dodge bullets for breakfast and rarely measure up to standardized tests and never equal always separate in the melting pot of identities that fill our hopes with all the amenities, the fickle fallacies of the American dream birthed the nation of a capitalistic breed. And I question America's new deal to create a middle class, a deal submitted in so many racial inequalities that we've lost count of the number of red lines that's pushed brown and black people into a polluted poverty like corporations gases ain't breathed into our lungs. Like the government is literally giving tax break to all of our predator, to all of our predators. I said, ain't enough money in your corporate earth fund to undo the damage that's been done, but who can really be free in the land where your life is less valuable than property? Erasure of the oppressed or white supremacy at our neck. And yet we carry the cause of our grandmothers to make the struggle and the fight for freedom every day in the year, every year until we win in this land of imprisonations. Where resistance has always been our truth so we don't follow that subjugation and why they plan for our annihilation. We can't stop, won't stop for our liberation as we build the new to transition our position and in this fight for justice. And even if it's just us, we gotta make a living that's up to us. Let's do it, shipping governance be up to us. Co-op the bag. We got too much richness in our roots to divide it up. And we got so much proof of us rising up so with resistance as our truth, then let this be a call to you, to build our own economy that lives off solidarity, putting all of our energy into our community. You guys that peace. More love for Monica, please. Right on, Carlton Turner is an artist, agriculturalist, arts advocate, policy shaper, lecturer, consultant and facilitator Carlton is the founder of the Mississippi Center for Cultural Production of SIP culture. SIP culture uses arts and agriculture to support rural community, cultural and economic development in his hometown of Utica, Mississippi, where he lives with his wife, Brandy and three children. And you know, to know Carlton is to follow his general is to follow his general ship, you know. He's the man with the plan, you know. And, you know, just having, you know, just being able to speak with him was a tool in itself, you know. I've never met, well, I've only met a few people as impressive. So, without further ado, Carlton Turner. Thank you so much. One, thank you, Tongo. Anytime we see, I know anytime I see your name and the lights in the paper on the Facebook, I feel proud like, you know, like I got something to do with it. Cause I'm like, that's how boy Tongo out there doing his thing. So I really want to just say big ups for all the success that you're seeing. And you have a voice that needs to be heard. So thank you for all the amazing work that you put into the world. And thank you for organizing the Cypher because these are cast that I just don't see. And we just don't get a chance to be together in space. So this is kind of a reunion of sorts in many ways. So I'm not gonna spend a lot of time introducing the piece. Hopefully it just speaks for itself. It's called Black Body Sons. When it came to pass that at midnight, the Lord smoke all the firstborn sons in the land of Egypt. You see war on the bodies of black boys run continuous like Ethiopian marathons. We grow up shadowbox and fading memories of invisible fathers as stories of amazing, strong, present black men are John, Henry, and Tamit. We fertilize mighty oaks with blood and ashes. Hogs' bellies bloat almost bursting from feasting on our imagination. Our songs lull eighth generation hipsters to concrete slumber. Our love is a tattered, bloody flag flying half mass. Our lives are worth 60 cents on the dollar. Our dance channels, moon steps and Godfathers. We weave life into life with our lives. Small localized earthquakes occur every time a pig passes by. We know justice ain't for brown. All we can do to dam the toxic waters of masculinity and insanity is keep believing, remember Jesus while we do funk man jamboree to the rhythm of the universe spiraling. We are the greasy gears of love and liberation. Our mother's tears fill rivers and oceans on our backs residual scars, on our minds residual bars, our bodies tattooed with freedom's blueprint. But indigo ink ain't deep enough to color over the blackness of our souls. We are fallen angels, earthmaid soldiers fighting a gravity heavier without wings. Our sons are born infected with our father's original sin. Being born in envied fertile earth and skin, injected with the belief that through hard work alone one can win. But we are ninth generation enslaved workforce, revolting in the windowless cages, blood brushed around our doors from errant bullets raiding wrong addresses. We are protected from the directive. We are the sons of God. God sons of Africa. African gods grafted and coated patchwork into American skin. Kindling freedom fighters fires, fire fighters fighting a nation ablaze amazed by the days that the graze of the craze that the maze calls. But we pause at the corner to acknowledge the loss, pour out a little latte for our fallen brethren, kiss two fingers and throw deuces to heaven and push on. Right on. And more love for Carlton, please. All right, now, finishing out this married band of samurai is another killer with words. I don't have the honor of personal anecdote, but it begins today, you know? Our journey together begins now. It is my honor to be in the presence of Charlie Braxton. Charlie Braxton is the author of three volumes of verse ascension from the ashes, cinders rekindled and embers among the ashes, poems in a high cool manner. His poetry has been published in various anthologies, including Trouble the Water, edited by Jerry Ward in The Tradition, edited by Ross Barack and Kevin Powis, is, you know, that's a heavy duty, that's a heavy duty goat anthology, man, that really is the foundation of a lot of what you see going on today, a tangent over. Roll call, soul fires fertile ground, bum rush the page, the deftly poetry and anthology, and on and on and on, I'll let him finish the talking, show some love to Charlie Braxton. Can you hear me? Yes. Can you hear me? Yes. Okay, all right. Everybody was so good, I'm really nervous right now. I ain't gonna lie to you, but what I wanna do is read a short poem first, and then I'm gonna come with a second one. This poem is called Poverty Is. Poverty is a motherfucker and a father fucker, and a sister fucker and a brother fucker. It fucks cousins, aunts and uncles, friends and neighbors alike, slowly slaughtering their souls with the stinging stench of despair. It is a state where few survive, escaping its crushing claws with scars that linger like burning leeches, clinging desperately to life. That's it. I told you it was short. All right, all right, all right, all right, all right. But Marty, and now gentle people, we're gonna run through it, we're gonna run through them again. So please see Lee come, come, come back, hit us again. Man, I'm just, I hope y'all are enjoying yourself. This is like reunion. I now know what my grandma used to talk about when she talked about baby, I got to go to reunion, get my feels, this is a reunion to get our feels. And so this poem, one of the things that we wanted to show is that there's so many different ways to be an activist poet and to be a community worker. And that's why I'm so proud to be here with all these different writers because if you look at their bios, they're all working in different aspects. And so this poem I've done work with a lot of black farmers both in the state and with some black farmers across the South. And so this poem just acknowledges the importance of black farming because I'm looking for somebody to do a study because I think there's a direct correlation between the rise and gang activity and the reduction of farming. And I'll just say it this way, as long as black people could see food coming out the ground, we didn't have a reason to be desperate. And so if we're looking for a revolution, one ways we can be revolutionary is that until black people can feed ourselves, we will always be at the pleasure of someone else. And so because of that, this poem is simply titled Us From Dirt for John Boyd Jr. and black farmers everywhere. Who knew that Moses Quewell, size seven and a half, cold, coated stesson and well-worked blue jeans tame a tractor like a bull, plow fields watered with sweat and blood, plant kernels fertilized with determination so that justice can be harvested one yield at a time. 45 bushels needed to turn the profit, sometimes 55 because snowy scales can calculate moon-kissed crops as weighing up with white gauges don't ever seem to balance the bottom line of black pockets, even though un-exformers were all knowing before almanacs as a cubilon is the womb that gave birth to husbandry from now to the Mississippi. Still blue-eyed bleach bankers did not have any hands that forever pulled life from obscenity and soil. Ocean of black farmers evaporated under the heat of white supremacy to a puddle of stewards as a re-enactment of the Berlin conference that dismembered and divided 80% of the acreage that they still see the hope that the land don't know no color. So they cast down more than a bucket, putting themselves up from slavery, even though they had boots devoid of straps while they were lynched by regimental red tape or beaten brutally by bureaucratic bullwits because the FHA falsely withered fertilizer to erode economic ecology of blue people as the bank be using the wrong formula so that white weeds can colonize black soil as afro applications be invitations to aggregate gentrification because they never share in the profits of the products. They be bearing the lion share of the struggle for chalky coltons charlatans can be enshrined as homesteaders while bronze bodies are perpetually red lined into squatters. It took Big John unloading his six shooter before the USDA tumbled like the wall of Jericho F. Board and 400 midnight primates weaved and welded individual streams of courage into a well wrought web where pigs would be glyph into a snare the silver snakes blocking the dam allowing a river of greenbacks to finally flow to R&B fields that created a garden where goodness could be grown with the help of a sable knight from Chicago whose pin became a sword carved in the 2008 farm building to stone daring to do damage in Dixieland they did through dastardly difficult terrain like the union soldiers sliced through the south rebel flags be damned because losers don't get no damn parade or no respect for this Moses was guided by the star of Madam Moses crossed the Jim Crow sea more than once to ensure that not one plan to be left behind in favor or sharecropping sale the spirit blossomed until the first ladies movement initiative sparking a ferocious financier to trade in her high fashion heels for some soul-stopping boots to create a new footprint of revolutionary farming to slay the dragon of diabetes and even though they try to treat them like jacks and jinnies these stallions and mares cannot be broken by the back room horse play their faith in the land is stronger than the heat of hatred as they were able to fact up the farmhouse cost they pay tied to the most high cultivated modalities that overflowed their cup from the wellspring of the bountiful brains to flower to the fruit of freedom as they produce some produce for the production of power rainbow children from purple braids to blue bangles to an electric eagle queen reap the benefits of tilting tough turf for tomorrow's treasures as mission in like Michael Coleman continued to spread the good news of living off the land while Ben Burkett punishes the pedal power to battle the ever-present pack white wolves constantly shape-shifting the rules and shearing the sheep while freezing the noble cowhands of their cash cattle of poets turned planters like Jeff Gibson we see like words until a poetic pollination of each one teach one so that fields never fade or ergonomic activists like Carlton Turner played a black-bottomed blues in a sharp key of sovereignty so that the art of agriculture continues to be a psalm of liberation us from dirt rise like mustard seeds and acorn into a full forest of freedom fighters fending and feeding becoming militant magnolias and austin and oaks and a Niagara of flowers unwilling to bend to the will of wicked winds glanted in righteous saw they are the trees should not be moved providing fruit for those who are hungry for independence thank you. Right on, right on, right on, yeah. Halema, please give us some more. Yeah, okay, good. So this one is titled George Floyd and I was really in my feelings when I first saw it, you know, when I first heard about it, so here we go. Oh, and this one has been published in the Patrice LaMumba anthology. All right, all right. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yes, sir. Yes, ma'am. Part of me is like burning all this shit down. I really don't care who doing what, we'll figure it out later. I hate them. Give me a sign or bullhorn and a gun. Trauma sitting in the back of the squad car waiting to take a mug shot, but then they take him out. We watch a 10 minute clip of an eight minute 46 second murder. A lifetime of pain becoming a catalyst for black speak by white people who feel compelled to take to the streets and covertly destroy black things. They are obsessed with destruction and pain and use black skin as a backdrop for their hate. Another part of us died that day. And if it's anything like the last time when they finished teaching and raping our revolt, it'll be reduced to slaves. Then putting their place in that they countertops begging to be fed with the dogs singing under the threat of water hoses and billy clubs because they think if we walk back black, I mean nigga uprising, black Denmark, Vessie, Marcus, Garvey, Malcolm X, Black Panthers, black, I mean Tulsa, Oklahoma, Rosewood, Florida, Harlem, Renaissance, we don't need your shit, black. We second line in the middle of the street and tell them they ain't shit. They leaders ain't shit. They schools ain't shit. They neighborhoods ain't shit, they shit, we don't need this shit. They're afraid because revenge is their language. We always want to work it out. Be allies and integrate work with non-profits that pretend like black genius behind white faces is a new thing. Full-time revolutionaries should be more than a title on your business card. And please don't get me started on nigga politics. This shit just don't work dressed in black. Feels like they shove the hand grenade in your mouth with a gun to your head and say a holla back when I pull the pin. Black genius, they run it toward ignorance and ignorance stay ahead of the game because they got a hell of a head start and keep recruiting. We get stuck in conversations about how the work should be done with folks that's on the sidelines who are well-intending, horrible ass chili to start ignoring them or pass them the baton. Because their arguments will have you like them working concessions distracted by the fans. Hey, who you say you rooting for again? You sound just like this white boy I passed wearing a MAGA hat yelling run, nigga run beside this white girl smelling too goddamn much by a deputy sheriff wearing a white mask with holes in it. We don't burn crosses, we carry them to grave sites around our necks and diamond-studded tombs to make sure death protects us before and after we die. I mean, my life, my life, my life, my life is a riot, is a protest, is a beautiful contradiction of bullshit like the Bible or the Quran are like owning black businesses you've written from other people, this ain't your shit if you own on it. And I'm not justifying violence or belittling the sacrifice. I just don't understand how you can expect us to be rational in an irrational place. One minute you had him in handcuffs on the ground. Two minutes your knee bowed on his neck like a devout Protestant minister. Three minutes your knee stayed there like a Catholic priest after confession. Four minutes he begged for his life. Five minutes he begged for his life again. Six minutes he begged for his mama who'd been dead for almost two years. Seven minutes he went to meet her. Eight minutes and 46 seconds later, barely got him and his dog-ass friends for murder. A friend said, we charge genocide again and again, we charge genocide again God damn it how many ways we gotta die for you to see it. I heard protest on work but I also heard anger get shit done and it might not be liberation but it forced another arrest. So until we come up with something else and they stopped killing us wearing bulletproof vests I say fuck them and meet us outside for some civil unrest. The end. All right, all right. Right on. Skip one more please. I just want to acknowledge, you know what I'm saying? How lean we are to catch your bodies out here. Like, you play too much. No lights, no clouds, no sound. No lights, no clouds, no sound. Brought food, brought spouse, brought rounds. Be dogs, be system, be hounds. We move like night wants the sun to go down. Believe in God. We will not drown. Use more caution if the moon is too round. God speaks through sight and shows us sound and he won't leave. We won't stay down. We will rise. We won't be bound our eyes on God. They eyes on nouns. We will win words God wrote down. We go through hell just to earn these crowns. Seek not heaven and feel not hell. If they touch us, we send them shells. My eyes see what's on cannot tell and answer my heart. My tongue cannot tell and ants work hard just to feed themselves the day you quit. That's the day you fail. Feel not death, she will prevail. Let death be. Close eyes, inhale, scope, hold breath, pull trigger, exhale. We reload, re-aim, rebel. We reload, re-aim, rebel. We reload, re-aim, rebel. We reload, re-aim, rebel. Mm-hmm. All right. Monica, please give us one more. I'm expecting. I said I'm expecting an expected blessing. That's why I wrote this with tears. I wrote this with tears streaming down my eyes, clutching a wing and a prayer reminiscing on how I survived. See, we wasn't supposed to make it past 25 but the jokes on you and the devil was alive. Beaten eyes like children of Israel, crossing red seas, see the weapon may form. But because I was born out of the norm, they say she walked a little different, say her talk is so terrific, say I don't deserve the credit, I just involved with a bigger ticket to all to him I owe. But because my blessings predestined, I must expect the blessing with good work ethic for you show me. Faithless works is what the ingredients be. Said praise without labor ain't really labor. And for me, see the harvest is full but ain't nobody slave for me. See, they be worried about stuff. When the scripture said carry no person, salute no man, the ministries, not for me they just be glorifying them. See, they be praising each other's works, turning the gift into the curse but this work is not for play. And I'm starting to wonder why my people be getting changed by some change that can't save them. If freedoms in his name and only one way in the heaven look for peace in his presence and give more than just reverence. You gotta wrestle with the world to get a good understanding. Sacrifice is on the sun, so what you gonna give up? Tell me is the need for green grater than his love that times it may get hard and things may get tough but the spirit of fear has no place when it gave you more than enough to tread over circumstances, scorpions and come out untouched. You gotta worship me like Daniel did. Obedient to the vision, a servant of your word, no matter who you will be serving and I'll raise you up like towers, be refuge and distressed for hours, just think about how you would save when you could have been devoured. Cause living the American way will leave you hopelessness quoted, demoted and underpaid. So I'm going back to moments I was in the fourth grade, Granny Carterson, a blocking mama used to make us pray and when we finished with the word we would lift our hands and say, I expect to be lifted out distressed, to no longer worry about being judged but not being perfect, expect to be real with myself and challenge anything in me that tries to exalt itself. Expect to have to go through mess but not be overwhelmed since I'm promised infinite help yes I'm expecting a crazy breakthrough. That's a mind lull way too tight power in my hands just to reach back and heal the dying people in the land and let rain sprout in every dry place to replenish and do the good work before the unexpected finish. Let's work. All right. That's right. Yes. Carlton, please one more. Southern skies, luscious female flesh, pale and tempting, arms open wide, receiving dark masculine loins to satiate her strongest carnal desires. He desires her flesh too and the two bond beautifully beneath Southern skies. They lie together dreaming of building bliss in pairs of one. His thoughts drift to nights that this type of union in this space would never take place in that time. This thought never crosses her mind but for him, he's crossed a barrier that some thoughts sealed by the words kill, will, I, you, nigger, being whispered in his ear. These words she will never hear, not in her thoughts, not in her dreams, not in reality it seemed that reality is deemed that time and space cannot erase the hate that placed two so meant for each other on opposite ends of the spectrum. For him, it's just a passing thought. He doesn't allow himself to get caught up in the fear of fear itself because this is 2007, I'm sorry. I mean, this is 2018 and shit like that just don't happen no more. But this is Newton, Mississippi, I'm sorry. I mean, this is Scott County, Mississippi, motherfucking, you better recognize that beneath southern skies, blacks lie, lie in a space where belts and ropes made into nooses and placed around necks of young black men is classified as assisted suicide. Bodies left dangling in trees and yards of white lovers or friends signals no immediate end to the hate that hate built. Lives, lives lie buried at the end of the rainbow, along with pots of fools gold to fool those that thought their progress forgets how it was made. And you stand in line blindfolded awaiting a pair of rose-colored shades while blades of grass stand stained with blood drips from coal, black lips as his soul slips through time to join the ancestors between the third and ninth dimension. If you intensely listen, you can still hear megas and emits final prayers lingering there somewhere under southern skies. Their words reverberating on a frequency designed to hover between white lies and black on black crime. Warning folk of the impending insurrection, a time when complexion won't dictate alliance building and healing will emanate from communities like wildfire hotspots. His chin dropped to close tightly against his breakfast chest. The rope sliced thrice across his jugular. His application for first class citizenship denied. His once handsome chin, which once supported a youthful grin now sends chills down mother's spines. His once psychedelic stride now defies gravity as he swings in suspended animation. This type of death is a desecration of the soul. No more demeaning of death can a black man behold or receive and for me it's hard to believe that a black man in Mississippi would use the noose to exterminate his own existence. When resistance to white supremacy in the Mississippi Delta laid the blueprints to the plans that toppled apartheid. Foreigners photographs enshrined the visual details of his lifeless body. Is death more artistic through the lens of a 35? Can two dimensions hide the fact that the price of human love must be paid with lifeblood? Can you or either of your friends sit here and listen to these words without the urge to let your rage be heard? How many more lives will we allow them to take before love grows some balls and kicks the shit out of hate? Yes, sir. Yes, yes. Charlie, bring us home, man. All right, brother. This was called coffin for the heads of state with apologies to Fela Ransom Kuti. And on this day, we offer a coffin soiled with the innocent blood of a thousand shit old nations whose only crime was they dared to hope to dream, to build and resist a slow death caused by the West. Yes. For the heads of a dysfunctional nation state, we offer this tomb as a tomb of the times, a symbol of a decaying democracy, murdered at the hands of a cabal of wicked fascists, consisting of the rich and nouveau rich who gleefully tossed the concept of the common good into the ceremonial fire as they snort the ashes of the Constitution, Magna Carta and every other document meant to guarantee human rights to human beings. This crypt is served to remind them no one is above the law of nature. Death will soon come and steal you away like Nat Turner armed with rips and chains of steel that rip the flabby flesh from your dying bones. Right on. Give some more love for all of these mighty poets. We're gonna move into some conversation now. I guess the best way is for all of you to unmute or speak whenever you feel. My first question in general is just, what do you all make of the current political moment and what are some of your prescriptions right now for the Black liberation struggle? I will just start by saying that none of this is new. If anybody was surprised about January 6th, you have no clue about American history. And because January 6th is what evil people has always done, they've always drawn tantrums, they've always lynched, they've always terrorized. What I say is that we need to continue as we've always done as African people to promote love, but also our strategy can no longer be begging evil people to be nice to us. And no type of plan, no type of mantra will ever be successful. If the only goal we have is to beg people who hate us, to be nice to us, and we need to start people, all the press people, all the press people, no matter what color you are, no matter what your gender is, all the press people must find ways to feed themselves, clothe themselves and govern themselves in the most peaceful loving way ever. That's all I'll say. Hello? I think we have to understand that capitalism is at a major crisis. And white supremacy is dying. And our enemies, the people who control these systems that oppress us, understand this is their last hurrah. They know it's over for them. It's only a matter of time. So what you saw at the nation's capital, the nation's legislature, what you saw was some desperate people who were fighting to hold on to privilege, who were fighting to hold on to power. And we can't buy into whatever lies politicians are gonna give us. We have to be able to resist at any cost, any means, by any means necessary because these people aren't going to just lay down that power never conceives anything without demand. And of course, Chairman Mao says political power is achieved at the end of a barrel of a gun. And that's all I gotta say. Well, yeah, that was like y'all just really started there and went straight in. So it's kind of hard to really put a point on that. But yeah, I was saying too, like when continue to lean into our resilience, like we've always figured out a way to be and how to do and how to get what we needed. So, continuing to do that. And I would say like really leaning on to your community and relationships. We look at what happened this past year with COVID and a lot of folks provided their own needs, like leaning on mutual aid and relationships to do that. So, yeah, I would definitely say like continuing to, having spaces like these, I think too, to just even process some things are like things that people don't even have time to think about for trying to just like live on a day to day. And so it's like also our responsibility is like storytellers and organizers too, to be bringing people together and make what seems difficult to understand on like a bigger level, in simplest form. So we all are arriving at the same time. What, have there been some organizing efforts as of late that have impressed you all or could be instructive for the rest of us? I would say, and I'm just gonna highlight the people on this screen. I've always loved the labor work, the system Monica Atkins has done. I've always loved the social political. And they never called it this, but a lot of healthcare work, the sisters of Lehman them have done with the Malcolm X grassroots movement. And if I don't know if anybody paid much attention, but my poem that celebrated black farmers also name Che calls in turn, because along with being a poet and being a playwright and being a arts administrator, he is a man of the land who has bridge culture production and agriculture. So I think that those like local types of movements where at the end, I like movements and organizations that allow people to produce and control what they produce. And so the three local people that I just named and they can kind of speak to themselves, Charlie and Skip have been involved in in various types of mentoring and other kinds of entrepreneurial, but I think we always have to ask ourselves, do our organizing efforts do two things? Does it allow people to produce something tangible that they can use? And do they own the thing that they have produced? And I think that those three folks and the folks who I just mentioned, that's the kind of organizing what they've done that's really kind of inspiring me. I'll just say this. I think one, again, just thank you for this platform. Thank you for this space. It's important for us to see ourselves together. I mean, I think when we talk about bringing together Mississippi artists, when we think about Mississippi, we know that you can chunk a rock down the street and hit 17 people like us, right? It's artists everywhere. The state is full with them. It's overflowing with creativity, but often that creativity is in service of systems that are not reciprocal, right? And so I think the work is about like what Celia's saying about building institutions and spaces where people get as much out of it as they put into it. And that's not the way that capitalism is derived, right? Our labor does not belong to us. Our labor creates wealth for others. And what does that mean when we're beginning to design new community ecosystems around the generation of community-based wealth? Not wealth in terms of like yacht buying wealth, but wealth in terms of like, you ain't living in debt and you keep a full belly and the bills are paid and everybody's being taken care of. And that is wealth, you know what I'm saying? For so many people that don't have those basic pieces of healthcare, like just quality food, we ain't talking about, we ain't trying to own the world. Like that ain't the intent of the work. One of the things that I'm excited about that I'm proud of is during the pandemic, some of the work that we were able to do, CIP Culture is organizing with other institutions like the National Association of Latino Arts and Culture and First Peoples Fund and Alternate Roots and the PAI Foundation out in Hawaii to get about $6 million to put back into the hands of artists that were struggling, that were on the bottom of everybody's list when you're talking about a gig economy being taken care of in this pandemic, nobody was looking out for artists, you know what I'm saying? Especially artists that don't identify as your Guggenheim fellow or your big stage, whether it's the Kennedy Center or whatever, like just folks who are preparing meals, who are culinary artists who are quilters and who are culture bearers from communities. Like those are the folks that we were really trying to make sure had some money in their pocket to get through the storm. So I will just shout out, weareelie.org, which is the leadership program for intercultural leadership and that's some work that we've been doing that I'm really excited about. Mine will be brief. I really, not just because I now work with them and have volunteered with them for a while, of course, Malcolm X grassroots movement, but the People's Advocacy Institute locally does amazing work in the community. We're working with the Mississippi Belfine Collective to assist with cash bonds, as opposed to the bail bondsman process. We have a, we have clemency campaigns going on. During the water crisis, we were able to distribute food and it's just amazing. Wanted to see the leadership. A lot of time, black women are not given the credit that they need in these spaces. Rukia Lumumba works. And if nothing else in the world can be said, she works, she moves and knows how to connect people. I appreciate being part of community. And just, I don't know, I really enjoy it when I think about work, I think about mobilization. So when we're out and bringing people to understand, understanding how to govern themselves, to move from being governed, somebody tells you what to move them into spaces of, this is how we should govern ourselves. So working harder to bring people's assemblies about so that we can tell the elected officials, the people that we have put in our spaces to say, this is what you're supposed to be doing, that we are literally doing that. And I'm not saying that it's easy. I'm not saying that it's perfect. But I am saying that we have to identify, we have identified the space, we've identified the vehicle that it can be done in, and that is the work that we're moving towards. So I, you know, big ups to, I'm always, the People's Advocacy Institute is, that's where my heart is. The people is where my heart is, but they in the heart of the people. So I love it. What is, what are some things that have sustained you all in all of this, you know, all of this movement, all of this struggle that you all have stayed engaged in for so long, what has sustained you in resistance and what has sustained you in art? I would say for me, connecting with good people, with all these people on the screen. One of the things that I'll say, I always tell young people who are talking about doing any kind of community work, there are two things you're gonna have to accept. One is, it's not that many people doing community work. I'm not saying it is not many good people, but I'm saying it's not many people. So you're the circle, and that's whether it's Jackson, San Francisco, New York, Birmingham. If you go to any place where you have a lot of culture workers, it's not that many people doing the actual work. And so you have to be connected to those people because sometimes you get tired, you get weak, you know, you get frustrated. So you have to be connected to people who can energize you. The second thing I'm gonna say is gonna sound kind of strange, but it's just, shoot, if there's any young people listening to this, you also learn early that there are a lot of good people who are doing good work, you may just not like them or their personality, right? And so you have to learn that just because you don't like somebody's personality, doesn't mean they are bad cultural worker. And that's something that I think we've all had to learn. And a lot of times that, you know, again, people, I get told, I've been with the same woman since 1990, right? And she'll tell me, students have told me, yeah, I'm that damn old. Yes, I've been with, you know, that people say, you don't know how to talk to people. You need to learn how to talk to people. So over the years, I've had to learn how to talk to people. And I'm still being told, you don't know how to talk to people. So what I'm saying is because there's so many people who get frustrated and quit doing the work because they had a bad personal experience. And I think one of the things that we have to do is one, connect with people, you know, Carlton, Skip, Charlie, they've known me a long time. I'm really a homebody, social distancing. Look, that's my life. Y'all just gave me a name for how I live, right? I know y'all and I wanna be in a community with one another. Every damn reason I'm gonna do for the rest of my life is gonna be a Zoom. I ain't never, I'm gonna do all of my community work via Zoom. But so Carlton and Skip and Charlie, they dragged me out to have like, Carlton just showed up about, hey man, you ain't been at the damn house for two weeks. Come to this damn rabbit, right? Two weeks, two and a half years. Yeah. So that's true. Like, you know, I'm really truly a homebody. But so one, connect with people, but know that you're not going to like everybody that's doing community work. But just because you don't like them doesn't mean they're not doing quality work. And if you can wrap your mind around that, you will be able to do this work much longer with less frustration and more importantly, you will really begin to see the skills that that person has. And then you can, a lot of times we put people in positions that we want them to be in, rather than allowing their personal use, their natural skills to help the community and the way that they can help the community. So I set up that. Sealy just triggered something in what he said. A lot of times I ask young people, why are you in activism? Why are you a resistance artist? Is it because you hate the system or you love the people? Because if you hate the system, which is great, fine, do that. I encourage you to hate the system. Nobody hates the system more than I do. But you've got to also love people because it's the love of the people that's going to sustain you over time. Cause it's not going to be easy. Organizing is not easy. I've done it. It's hard. Writing work that resists capitalism, white supremacy, patriarchy, all homophobia, all of that is not easy because there aren't too many places for you to publish that stuff. You have got to love the people to sustain yourself. And during this COVID, I really started to understand how love for the people can sustain you in the hardest of hard times because I'm not connected to a university like some of you all are. I'm not connected to, I don't get Guggenheims or none of that. It's just me and my family and my friends and my community. And those were the people who kept me going. Those were the people who said, hey man, you got to wear a mask. You got to do this. Cause for a minute I was like, shit, these capitalists, they're gonna kill us. They are going to, they are really trying to kill us. And that can make you depressed. It can really make you depressed. I ain't gonna lie to you, I was depressed for a second. But seeing people struggle and come together encouraged me. I think part of it, the two is like these, even all these labels like activist this and resistance that it's like, my question is how do you embody the things that you talk about? How's it embodied in your practice? How are you living it in your body? I'm saying like, for me, it was like, I tell Cele this all the time, I don't consider myself a poet, right? Like I do whatever it is I got to do to get whatever I need to get done, done. Sometimes that means planting a seed, sometimes that means building a house, whatever. But for me, I'm trying every day to be closer to the embodiment of my words, to walk the walk of the words that I, because a lot of that poetry, that like heavy black power poetry, it's aspirational, like that it's what you're trying to be like way out there, like, if I'm in my best self, that's where I wanna be, that's, you know, and we're striving to get there. And the question is, how do we then embody that and practice on our daily walk? So that's what those of the folks that I gravitate towards and those of the people that I try to figure out, how can I support their work? Even if I ain't like down with the art, like if their art sucks, but I know that they embodying the things that they're trying to be. I'm like, how can I help that person? How can I support that work and help that grow? I'm definitely feel like Carl can talking about that shadow work too, because just, you know, in, you know, being an organizer is like hearing many voices and, you know, trying to stretch that far and wide, you know what I mean, in the strategy and making sure that it's, you know, reaching to everyone. When you talk about governance and like just the process of like getting alignment and moving the thing, like that's the energy suck, a major energy sucker. So I know one of the things that's been also like rejuvenating me is like having like really over this last year, man, last year COVID, I looked in the mirror after I had been on Zoom for a couple of months. So I'm talking about, I was like, Jess, you know what I'm saying? Had, you know, not been taking care of myself, not, you know, pouring into like my own spirit and just giving so much out. And so for me this year, definitely has been a reset in, you know, the amount of travel, like being still enough too to like do that shadow work to cleanse and heal and be able to come back and interact, you know, with people because it's draining. It's very draining, but, you know, again, definitely feel like people, the relationships is what like keeps me going, but also have a balance, you know, just have a balance in that self and self-care and community care. So yeah, just wanted to ask that. I wanted to give some space to Lee, to those that have shown up for us here in the audience to ask some questions. You can just type in the chat. It's anything you would like to ask of our wonderful guests right now. And if not, I have a question. I have another question. Well, there's nothing but props for them right now. It's not props time, people. Thank y'all. Well, we still have a little more time. I was wondering what kind of, now I hate to go from the, you know, from us to them, but what has the, you know, kind of what has the ruling class been doing? What kind of moves have been made to destabilize people, to destabilize organizing efforts down here? And how have y'all adjusted? Well, you know, you know, we've got one of the most backward and reactionary governors. I mean, this man is a complete idiot. Mr. Potato Head has a better IQ than he does, but you have to also look behind who this puppet is. They are currently trying to stop us from voting. They're currently, I mean, the man is throwing every trick in the book. He's trying to stop us from voting. He's trying to stop transgender people from participating in sports. He is, I mean, look, I'm gonna start insulting him pretty soon, but somebody said, go ahead. But the reactionary forces are in play. The chief thing is they're trying to stop us from voting. I don't know whether people check the census, but you know, 40,000 white folks left, which means black folk population is increasing, which means if that trend continues, we will be in control of the political apparatus, and they see that coming. So don't be fooled by them taking their flag down. That was a money move. The governor himself said he was torn about the flag. Like what's to be torn about? You either for white supremacy or you're not. Go ahead, Seela, you probably have more detail. I just, I can't tell you. Well, it's cool, because somebody in the chat just asked the question that was gonna get directly to something that we've had in a succession of white supremacist governors, so the last three or four governors. And so someone said, why did so many white people leave Mississippi? And what's really interesting, what we're finding is that, so about four white supremacist governors ago, there's one particular white supremacist governor in Mississippi, like I said, they're all about bending to the same. He said that what I'm trying to do is to make sure that we continue to have an abundance of low-skilled labor jobs. And the first thing I said is like, did he mean to say that aloud? I'm trying to find an abundance of low-skilled labor jobs, right? So either you are so mean and malicious that you don't care about wanting a labor-intensive control population, or you're so ignorant that you don't know that you're telling people to guess what you want. And so what we are finding is that even those people, even those white people who left the state, my father used to always say, my father used to always say, I'm tired of Mississippi educating the world. And people say, what does that mean? I'm tired of Mississippi educating the world. What a lot of people don't realize is that Mississippi has some of the largest like college graduates, right? But we can't find jobs here. So many of our folks, our relatives, once they graduate, they have to go somewhere else. That's why you often find Mississippi wrote groups everywhere across the nation because we continue to have governors, right? Let me get a quick, and this happened today where I give you one quick anecdote. This happened in the 90s. Nike was going to put a factory in Mississippi. And I can't remember the count. And Nike, by the fact, told them, say, look, you don't even have the money to do with the land what we need to do. In fact, all you gonna do is mess it up. Leave the land alone. We just need you to vote to give us the licensure to put this plan here. And by the way, if those who wonder why would Nike do that, if you remember, this is what Michael Jordan got in trouble, cause the adjoins were being made in the sweatshops in China. And so all of the, was coming out. So with Nike being the fifth day where I'm like, hey, let's just go put a plan in Mississippi and people forgive us about this. So one like Nike was doing that. I had the goodness of their hearts. Let's be clear on that. So- And also we don't have labor. We don't have a strong labor movement so they can come in- Right, exactly. You have a strong labor movement, right? But watch this. The seven county supervisors whose job it is to bring money into the count all voted not to allow the factory to come. Why? Because those seven county supervisors all own plantations. So what they understood is, and why is that important? That's important because that's the civil war. The civil war was about slavery and the type of labor we were gonna have. And the South, right, particularly Mississippi is still entrenched in that battle that they don't want any kind of industrious type of labor force because they need you to have to educate your labor to at least a moderate degree. And that educated- So education is still the number one battle in the state of Mississippi because the way in which oppression continues to exist in Mississippi is through not properly funding. Matter of fact, Mississippi education hasn't been properly funded in over 35 years because as long as what I tell my students is that what an education does, it allows you to make a decision. And when I say education, I'm not talking about a piece of paper. I want to be clear. When I say education, I'm not talking about a degree or diploma. I'm talking about you have a skill. It's my father said, a person who can fix or make something can always feed themselves. And so what I tell my students, well, I just recently retired, so I'm a recent retiree, right? What I tell, what you should tell my students is I want you to be educated because if education means that you have the ability to say, I don't have to be here. And that continues, that's how the movement connects to what Sister Monica and what Sister Halima is doing. That's how it connects to the entrepreneurial work that Brother Joe is doing, Skip was doing, and the mentoring work that Charlie is doing is that we have to find a way to continue to fight for the adequate funding of education in the state because that will drive everything else that we want to do. And understand, education or educated populace is a populace that's going to resist oppression. If you educate the populace correctly, they will always resist oppression. Mississippi understands that. This is about cheap, exploited labor. They want to put us in a position where they can constantly exploit our labor and exploit our resources. I mean, Mississippi has some of the most fertile land in the country. And they want that. I mean, you've got supervisors who own plantations. That's an abomination. Yep. And when Charlie says the most fertile land, let's be really clear. The two most fertile rivers in the history of the globe, the two most fertile rivers in the history of the globe. When I say the history of the globe, the history of the plant, I mean, longer than humans have been humanoid. The two most fertile rivers, the Nile and the Mississippi. You must understand the amount of money that's connected to the Mississippi River. From the center of the United States all the way down through Louisiana. And so that's what Charlie is saying, is that those resources along the Mississippi River, particularly into Mississippi, right? Mississippi has enough resources to feed itself. It's just that unfortunately, we basically have a plantation labor government. And that's where the education is important because until we are able to educate ourselves and to let people and to overthrow the plantation level government. But it also means that we have to instill in black folks that we have to learn, black people have to stop being the only people on the planet who don't own and control what we do better than anybody else. Black people have to stop being the only people that somebody else controls what we do great. That means that ownership is more important than money. We have to stop. Whenever black people build something, the first thing we do is sell it. We have to stop selling the things that we build because if you continue to sell the things that you build you can never build an institutional infrastructure. What separates, and I, because I don't want to, what was, here's something that people don't know. New Orleans, Birmingham, Atlanta, and Jackson, Mississippi. New Orleans, Birmingham, Atlanta, and Jackson, Mississippi. If you go back 30, 40, 50 years ago, what basically the same type of city, what basically the same type of town. What separated Jackson, what kept Jackson, Mississippi from being able to develop in ways that those other places didn't develop was one, of course, the heinous white supremacists but also, unfortunately, the majority of wealthy black people in the state get their money from their oppressor. So it doesn't matter how much money you get when your money is not independent from the power structure. That's why owning institutions are important. That's why we're now trying to work. There's a brother who owns a barber shop and he sells barber supplies. We're trying to now move him into being a beauty and barber supplier. There's a place that used to be a Toys R Us. I know it because I work there. It's one of my crappy part-time jobs. It's now one of the biggest beauty centers in the state. And I'm tired of black folks going to somebody else buying their beauty supplies for people who don't like us. And so we have to start taking this young brother who on Terry Road in Jackson, Mississippi owns a beauty supply at Barber Supply School, brother named Chris Page. We have to start saying, Chris, what can we do to help you expand your business so that now when black people, cause we're gonna do fashion. Ain't no sense of talking about not doing fashion. Cause black, look, and again, I hope people don't take this the wrong way, but I say this to talk about the power of black folk. America doesn't know how to walk, talk, dance or dress until black children between the age of 15 and 25 teach them how to talk, walk, dance or dress. And so as black folk, if we are that influential in the style of America, we have to also learn how do we control those dollars so that we reap from that. Now I'll shut up. Well, we passed the time, but I wanted to extend the opportunity for some final thoughts to land us. Any final things on your mind that you want to share. Yes, Monica, Joe, Palema, say something. Cause I don't want to be the last person they hear from and I ran my mouth. Then you're trying to get taken home. Yeah. You've been representing us well, brother. Just keep going. We're good, we're good. I just want to get the tour popping already cause it's just too much fire in this zone, bro. I'm like, no one's room should have all this power. Like I'm looking forward to it. And I'm, man, honored, really honored to even be recognized. A lot of y'all have like been, you know, directly in my path on my journey here. And just grateful to be able to share the zoom room tonight with everybody. And for the invite as well from, you know, you all. So just thank you. Yeah, I'll say the same thing. Thank y'all for allowing me to be in here with the greats, the giants, Ceeley, Charlie, I love it. I've enjoyed it. Thank you again, Tango for hosting this space. You are a giant. Literally and figuratively. We appreciate it. Yeah, we love it. Making it work all the way for Kelly, right? Yeah. Tango, you have to come back to Mississippi so we can meet face to face, brother. Oh, man, you know I'm on the way. Here's gonna be my first trip once, you know, the world thaws out just a little bit more, you know? When the coast is a little clearer, you know? Yeah, that's my first trip. That's first on the agenda. Oh, we do. It was such a blessing to be a part of this again. Tango, all of you all just thank you for the love and thank you for the words. And let's continue to build. Amen. A woman. Appreciate that, brother. Well, I don't know if the mothership takes it back over now or what's going on. Thank you so much, Tango. That was amazing. Thank you, everybody. I know there's a lot of education going around there and so I feel the power, feel the words. I'm gonna put in the chat another link to where you can find this again and we'll see you all next time. Oh, much love, y'all. Bye.