Discussion generated on my poem "Langston...": writing about skin color

Recently I posted a link on Facebook from my blog -- my poem "When Langston Hughes Visited My Home", one of the two published in the Guntur National Poetry Festival anthology released on July 2. Like the other one "Finding Foremothers", this too was appreciated a lot and generated quite a few comments.

What I always look for in the comments from my dear friends and readers is that keen eye for details about my poetic craft and the general topic in question.

One of them came from poet and friend Jen Pezzo Kerowyn-Rose who runs the literary journal "Mnemosyne". In her eyes, 'Langston' was not only a well-crafted poem but also an interesting exercise in looking at race/color/ethnicity through my eyes, trained for the most part as Indian eyes.

This is what she wrote on my blog -- "I love this poem. It is such a contrast to the way many Americans' view skin color, even today. The title is perfect. My favorite stanza is the first one. I like the imagery. What an artfully crafted piece of work. :-)".

With this thread we started off a discussion that has left me richer than ever. And I'd like to share some points with the others here...

1) Did I address the fact that I was writing about LH from childhood memory as part of my individual 'color' consciousness?

OR

2) was it incorporated into a cultural universe where color/race was noticed/pointed out quite deliberately and as a tool for derision of the 'other' or just as an innocuous observation? That I wrote "dark-limbed poet", is it because as a child I was inherently aware what 'dark' and 'fair' meant to a 10-year-old?

Jen's observation that an American would speak/write differently (I believe some times, never) about skin color was a delight and I'm glad Jen and I went on to have a long discussion on a topic many would simply avoid.

-- 1) I THINK... back then I didn't have much of an 'individual' awareness or consciousness about skin color or what it might or might not mean... All I was aware of is that Rama or Krishna were blue/dark, Shiva too after wearing that ash coating all over and all that's because it seemed a special quality possessed only by special gods! Ah, and Draupadi, the heroine of the epic Mahabharata too was "krishnangi"! And a beauty.

-- 2) As for my upbringing in a certain cultural universe, I grew up in a liberal household with a spiritual mom (all Krishna worshippers on her side of the family) and a commie father (many commie uncles and an aunt who's like a Joan d'Arc to me...) although paternal grandparents were diehard Shakti (goddess) followers, mostly believers of the Tantra or the Lokayata school of philosophy. Color (as a marker of race) was probably the least discussed aspect at home. I say the least, because when it came to describing individuals, often it went like this -- "oh our neighbour, the dark gentleman with a moustache..." or "X's new bride is quite fair although her dark sister is prettier... ".

No doubt some folks employed a certain bias based on these indicators but as a child I saw and heard very little of it from my folks. Then caste, that Indian social monster, was pooh-poohed at all levels because it popped up everywhere even if you didn't believe in its rigors. Religion and creed/faith was a private affair, even for the older members who frowned upon the commie brigade!

So a child's mind registered things it saw/read with a question/surprise:

"...why the smaller typeface said:

Poems by a dark-limbed poet, a collection,

I had no idea then"

The editors of the book put that blurb in there for an obvious reason, now I know better. It was not about racism or commenting about skin color, it was an assertion "Poems by a dark-limbed poet" (krishnanga kobir kobita -- in Assamese). Jen rightly pointed out that this was really special, to be able to write/speak about a people in terms that were celebratory.

Celebratory it was. Krishna the god is 'krishna' (literally means dark), so is Rama the King of Ayodhya, and so is Queen Draupadi (nicknamed Krishnaa), whose best friend is Lord Krishna!

However, a 10-yr-old is still surprised to encounter the "krishna"-ness among mortals:

"Dark limbs were not seen

On our book covers

Only limbs were, but then

Krishna is just not a word

For a god, it dawned on me

But skins and cheeks and

Strong arms of poetic force

On my table"

The word "krishnanga" (krishna + anga = dark limbed) in my child's consciousness had signified the entry of a new entity. It was all about a celebrated name called Langston Hughes, the reference to him an assertion by those writers/editors/publishers who championed the cause of avant-garde literature, protest poetry and songs, alternative discourses and exhorting the sun to rise in a new direction -- "hey xurjo uthi aha" in Assamese... and this bit I understood much later when my adult mind realized:

"Also the end of crowing nights

When a poet came home

Inside the covers of a book, smiling:

"That day is past!""

Just as today we celebrate 'Jewish poetry', 'Asian-American writing', 'South-Asian fiction', I am immensely proud that some of these vernacular literatures in India had long ago opened up their doors to the world in order to celebrate the "Krishna" or "Krishnanga" poets and writers.

Thank you Jen, for inspiring this lively discussion!

Postscript: After finishing this note I found this picture of Goddess Kali in Wikipedia. Kali literally means 'black' but it is also believed the etymology includes the Sanskrit word 'kaal' meaning time or eternity. As a child I saw different statues of Kali in different shades -- midnight black, deep blue, dusky etc. -- with different names as well, like, Smashaan Kali (goddess of the cremation ground); Shyama Kali (the dark/blue Kali), and Bhadra Kali (the householder's goddess)

Image from the Internet (Wikipedia): Goddess Kali

French should consider an eclectic model

Nabina Das
(November 11, 2005, The Ithaca Journal, finally I found this article!!)
It is rather naive to think or propound that in today’s world, a society can remain monolithic – in religion, color, language and culture. The country that just a few months ago, smirked at the debacle caused in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in the United States, has now its own underbelly exposed. The knives of discord would surely cause serious scars on it, if not tear the social fabric apart with the crisis is allowed to continue.
As France arrives at its ‘moment of truth’ the question is how the crisis originated. Was it an invasion by alien cultures overnight that ripped French suburbs for days now and rendered the Republic frustrated? Some deep reflection already hints it is a result of grave inequality practiced for decades, masked under the notion of “secularism” and “social integration”.
It seems, increasingly however, this form of Western secularism is running into problems in addressing emerging religions and communities whose followers become a critical mass in society. The stubbornness with which France responded to the recent hijab (headscarf for Muslim women) issue is a case in point.The option might seem to lie between choosing either a stricter (read dogmatic) treatment of ‘troublemakers’ or, devising short-term populist measures. But there are other long-term options available to us.
I genuinely think, France, at this critical juncture of a defining historical moment, must look either to the west or to the east and make an eclectic choice.In the west, the United States with Affirmative action as its cornerstone could serve as a proactive model for resolving the present crisis. Unless the cruel history of slavery in America was acknowledged, understood, written and read about and condemned, America would not be what it is today. Given that race relations are still stressed, to justify democracy above all other things, Affirmative Action acts as a beacon of light.
Looking to the east might present France with a rather novel framework, or help others that live in constant fear that their elite white Christian societies are about to be run down by blacks, browns, Muslims, Africans, Arabs, Asians, Polish plumbers, Turkish nurses et al – the list of so-called aliens can be endless.In the east, I am talking about India – the largest democracy in the world and one of the most complex societies of our times. The Indian constitution, adopted in 1950, had the foresight to create a public space for most minorities, religions, ethnicities, tribes, languages and even castes.
It is true violent religious conflicts, language and caste riots have plagued India time and again, as has decades of terrorism. But in the larger scheme of things, it is a country that has successfully prevented balkanization of its territory, maintained a strong national identity and has fiercely remained a secular democracy since its inception.For a billion-strong country with about 300 spoken languages, eight or nine major religions (not counting the several animistic faiths), numerous caste-based economic structures, and people of all color and looks, this secular post-colonial nation has done rather well for its 50-odd years, considering how several post-colonial countries still flounder or depend on larger powers.
Most of the Indian civil society certainly understands and accepts differences. It does not balk at people displaying Muslim headscarves, Sikh turbans, Hindu tilaks, Jewish yarmulkes or Christian crucifix signs; or at a Muslim president, a Sikh prime minister, an Italian-born (woman) Christian ruling party leader, and at prudent policies that help so-called “low-caste” leaders to challenge the hegemony of the upper classes.
Most of our French friends however, shudder at the thought of ‘quotas’ or ‘reservation’ for the underprivileged, which they think is an anathema to French socialist ideas. But acceptance alone can produce multiculturalism or diversity. India, historically a giant diversity workshop, can be a model of peaceful coexistence within the boundaries of a nation state.Why bother about such a model? Because, it successfully blends all values; two, inevitable worldwide migration of human beings cannot be stopped by exclusionist policies. As the West once sought out new lands to further its nascent capitalist interests, it now needs to accept the tide in its own direction. That is why, French-born Algerians, Moroccans, Egyptians, Tunisians, Mauritanians etc., will always be French. They can eat their Camembert cheese or drink Beaujolais as well as everyone else in France. The name or the color of skin will not sour that cheese or curdle that vin rouge.