Bree Newsome--Real Life Super Hero

Photo Credit:  Adam Anderson

If you have not yet read about Bree Newsome's beautiful act of civil disobedience, you need to read this story.  We often think of nonviolent protest as a thing of the past, something that Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr, and Gandhi did, but not something that happens anymore.  But of course it does.  Racism is not a relic of the past, and neither is protest against it.

I was inspired by Newsome's courage, as well as by the many pieces of art that have sprung up around her action, to write this poem.  

Now is the Time for True Courage

Art Credit: Rebecca Cohen

Do you see her

standing atop that flagpole?

Bree Newsome

scaled 400 years of oppression

to strike down a symbol of hate.

Do you see her?

Avenging angel of Justice

armed not the sword but with

the word of God.

Her cape flutters in the wind

where a flag once flew.

Art Credit:  Eric Orr

She, beacon of hope

standing atop that flagpole,

denounces a heritage of violence.

Justice was on her side

the day Bree Newsome

scaled 400 years of oppression

to strike down a symbol of hate.

Do you see her?

Beautiful Black woman,

warrior of power and truth,

no mask hides her face.

Standing atop that flagpole

Art Credit:  @Niall_JayDubb

she can see the

mothers who went before her

to sit on that bus,

to cross that bridge,

to walk into that school,

to register for that vote,

to worship in that church.

And they were with her the day Bree Newsome

scaled 400 years of oppression

to strike down a symbol of hate.

And I know no one woman can

fly faster than all the bullets speeding into black bodies

Art Credit:  Legends Press Comics

in churches,

on playgrounds,

on streets,

in homes.

But when I see Bree Newsome

scale 400 years of oppression

to strike down a symbol of hate,

I believe in courage.

I believe in hope.

I believe that we can change.

Grand Theft Poetry

That writing summer institute from my last post, I'm going to keep talking about it. 

 Each morning we started with nibbles (breakfast) and scribbles (a writing prompt).  Seriously, there was sooooo much food at this thing.  This was our nibble on the final day:  kolaches from Hruska's.  Still warm.  They're like Danishes but without the glaze, just a fluffy, flaky, squishy roll with jam in the middle.  Or cream cheese.  Or both.  I may or may not have gone to this bakery several times since institute ended to buy more of them.  And it only ended last week.

But anyways, we start each day with a nibble and a scribble.  The scribble on our last day was an activity that I am definitely stealing next year for my classroom:  Grand Theft Poetry.  It's like a more structured version of found poetry.  Start by giving all of your students a poetry book (thank you public library).  Open up to a random page in your book, write down a random line, and pass your book to the right.  Continue doing this until you have amassed a good list of stolen lines.  Then revise for seven minutes or so, taking words out, rearranging lines, adding things, playing around with line breaks.  Viola.  Instant poem.

 

I love this activity for a number of teacherly reasons that I won't get into at the moment because that's not the point of this post.  Instead, I will share the poem that came out of this scribble.  I'm rather proud of it.  It's certainly not perfect, but I like the way it came out. 

Let Me Be Not Mad

I may be mad,

for I am sick of love.

Love is the same at different times to different people,

a timepiece out of sync.

Love is a new heaven begun,

a new hell to endure.

Into the dangerous world I leapt,

helpless,

full of folly,

    shame,

    madness...

I think we are all mad.