By Eric Valentine
“What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?… Or does it explode?”—Langston Hughes
I heard the name Langston Hughes by the time I was in college and took a cultural U.S. history class that for a few moments in class explored the Harlem Renaissance and black poets. I think by the time I was 5, I heard the names Shakespeare, Hemingway, Frost. By the time I was 15, I was in class reading them.
I heard something about Black Wall Street in Tulsa, Oklahoma, three or so years ago from a meme on Facebook, but hadn’t learned anything else about the atrocity until last week. I knew about the attack on Pearl Harbor and Roosevelt’s quote “a day that will live in infamy” by the time I was 5 and every September 11th since my early 30s, I’m reminded to “never forget.”
Enter Rise Kevalshar Collins, my neighbor, a fellow writer, and a black woman who when asked by me how she was doing around Memorial Day, she replied, “Not good. George Floyd got killed by four white police officers. Not good, Eric.”
I didn’t say, “I understand,” because that almost felt dismissive. I did say, “I think white people are finally starting to wake up.”
Right after, we emailed each other the most recent thing we had written on the matter. Hers was an essay that ran in the Boise State University paper and in the Idaho Statesman. Mine was a nonfiction short story I wrote about the June 2 vigil held at the Idaho Statehouse. And then I did that well-intended thing a lot of white people are doing these days, I asked my black friend for her guidance.
“Educate yourself. Follow leads that I gave you in my essay. Look within. Don’t ask me to do that thinking for you. Keep going!” was her reply.
So I will. And that brings me back to poet Langston Hughes. His description of the dream deferred goes on for a few more lines beyond what I shared up top before he gets to that burning question: “Or does it explode?”
I submit it does. Like anything else we oppress or repress, it eventually comes back stronger.
I have long believed that sea change does not occur until it takes root in minds and hearts and the arts. From there it manifests into economy, and then finally into politics. Hughes’ explosion is a firsthand grenade of a peaceful war whose victors won’t toil over spoils because they are already dead, but will help craft a new history instead.
The contribution of African-American poets from Hughes to Tupac are many. So it’s with great hope that the Ketchum Community Library’s new program called “Talking About Race—A Weekly Drop-in Poetry Discussion” gets not only well attended, but extended long-term and into schools, too.
The program takes place every Wednesday from noon to 1 p.m. through July 15 and is a weekly series of poetry discussions via Zoom on the topics of race, equity, inclusion and empathy. And, it will be carried out mainly by analyzing the poems of writers of color.
To learn more, visit comlib.org/events.
