Local Live

San Francisco Tenderloin Book Fair and University of Poetry
Recovery Theatre, Jan. 30-31

SOME FOLKS GO out at night. I do too, but I also go out during the day – to hear music, see performances, and, at last month's incredible San Francisco Tenderloin Book Fair and University of Poetry, catch cultural revolutionaries challenging people to change the world. Have you met Amiri Baraka? Seen him? Read him? The provocative poet-playwright and several other activists who led the Black Arts Movement through streets and Senate chambers during the '60s recently discussed the movement during workshops and panels with hundreds of people.

"We must have an independent publication that represents cooperative revolution," he insisted. "We cannot be moved by Vibe, the Source, and BET!" His voice shook as the words rushed from his mouth with a big, forceful tone, similar to the way he spoke during the '60s, when he first challenged U.S. culture. "We," he explained, means black Americans, and "revolution" means reclaiming black art for black people on black people's terms.

Among the weekend's other commanding moments was poet Sonia Sanchez's comment on years of black life in the United States: "The greatest thing that happened in the 20th century," she said, "is that black people survived." Stark and meditative, she raised awareness in the room. Then San Francisco poet laureate devorah major spoke, with similar directness, saying, "Radicalism is a fundamental, elemental force that favors extreme change. Radical is not just words pressed on pages. It's action."

Well, there's action, and there's action! – the kind of lights-camera-action that some artists mistake for revolutionary art. These artists know the difference. Baraka, Sanchez, major, and the event's other participants articulated the distinction, encouraging art that carries political consequence.

"There is no art without revolutionary politics," Baraka said. There weren't any bands playing, but performance still mattered; the event's most musical speakers, including Sanchez and Baraka, commanded attention more than meandering orators like Dr. Nathan Hare. Hare, who made history in the '60s by instituting the country's first black studies department, at San Francisco State University, spoke in a nasal monotone as he called for increased education across the United States. Later, Black Arts Movement cofounder Askia Toure proposed "a radical reordering of arts-world power" by relaunching journals like Soul Book, Black World, Cricket, and Black News to counteract "elite white boys defining you [African Americans] in their own hip-hop journals. Where are our journals?"

Baraka, who challenged U.S. hierarchies with his book Blues People, beat poetry, black nationalism, and, now, communist platforms, addressed the crowd's youngest writers: "We're not telling you how to write. We just want your content to be revolutionary." Then he offered strategies for being revolutionary, for unplugging Bush-Ashcroft in the upcoming election and prying white editors' hands off of black art: "We need to organize surveys, campaign on the streets, fight illiteracy, hold art exhibits in our living rooms, and contribute to our own publications, including Razor," a community-based journal Baraka edits (www.amiribaraka.com).

At one point Baraka raised his voice and challenged Spike Lee's portraits of black life on film before applauding the Black Arts Movement for influencing James Brown and Curtis Mayfield and crediting those musicians with influencing rock 'n' roll, hip-hop, and psychedelia. Within 10 minutes, Baraka shared enough music history and theory to challenge and rewrite the content of most music books on shelves at Borders. The audience listened.

The energy level rose as the event's producer, Marvin X, welcomed the Tenderloin's residents: "We've got artists, pimps, hos, thugs, crack dealers, and businessmen. They're all in our family." He pounded his fists and spoke in a raspy voice that bordered on laryngitic and excited listeners. "This book fair is a pilot project to see what can happen nationwide. Can we take this event to the 27 cities where black people live as majorities in the United States! The cultural revolution is about education. We ain't about entertainment," he said.

True? Perhaps. An open-mic poet reinterpreted that idea, saying, "It's OK to entertain, to seek fortune and fame, but if you ain't saying shit, then why you in the game?" "Preach it," the crowd answered. Then, moved and challenged, I left, got in my car, and turned up Pharaoh Sanders. Have you heard tracks one and five on Live? (Daniel King)


March 3, 2004