July 5, 2008 - The Art of Conversation Open Mic at the Yabba Pot

The Yabba Pot is a small, vegan restaurant located on St. Paul Street in Baltimore, Maryland, just a few blocks north of North Street and a few blocks south of John’s Hopkins’ Bradford apartments. A small, weather worn sigh and a swinging bench mark the entrance. The first thing to strike you about the Yabba Pot are the vibrant, lime-trimmed, salmon-colored walls. At the front of the restaurant, there’s the cashier and a counter behind which the food is displayed, cafeteria-style. On the wall behind this, there’s a menu listing the various smoothies and juices offered. The room was long and narrow, and the back end was set-up for the poetry reading. Two rows of chairs faced an area of open floor space. Behind these, there were a number of small tables with bright, decorative tops and two-to three chairs each.

Just prior to the event, I started talking with an elderly man who identified himself as Bahire Shabaz. He described himself as Bahire Shabaz, a self described “Old School” poet. He said that he’d begun writing in a correctional institute, and he defined the “Old School” style as an emphasis on values and traditions, particularly African traditions, that needed to be handed down. He identified himself strongly with the struggles and revolutionary spirit of the Civil Rights movement.

The Art of Conversation was hosted by E, the Poet-Emcee, who had been the featured performer at Jibber Jabber just last week. Energetic and lively, he encouraged the audience to participate, and he warmed up the crowd by having us practice cheering before bringing any of the poets to the stage. This reminded me of the 11^th Hour Slam, and stood in sharp contrast to more academic style readings (a fact that was in the forefront of my brain since I’ve just finished Professor Wheeler’s Voicing American Poetry). One of the most distinctive features of The Art of Conversation was that, after every piece, the audience was invited to ask questions and give comments on the works. In some cases, this led to rather heated discussions. The audience was full of regulars, and E knew many of them by name.

The first poet to perform was Courtney, from Columbia, Maryland. She first sang a piece called “Images”. Her eyes were closed and she swayed gently as she sang the piece slowly. The rhythm reminded me more of the middle-eastern call to prayer than anything else. Courtney described the importance of the piece to her as taking “me back to being a child and crying in front of the mirror” because she didn’t fit the stereotypical, Barbie-doll images of beauty. She talked about how you need to feel beautiful in order to feel self-confident enough to fully find your place within nature and the workings of the world. I thought this was a powerful, beautiful piece with broad application that was a little cheapened by some of the commentators’ insistence that this dilemma only applies to African Americans because “the images of beauty are imposed by the conquerors”. Self-consciousness and fear of not fitting into standards of beauty affects people of all ages, races, and classes. The commentary also rang false given that many of the women considered most beautiful in modern society are not white. Her second piece, the “Cosmos Is My Boyfriend” was a playful piece that described the romantic overtures of the Universe, such as how he “texts me with raindrops” and “cuddles me with consciousness”. Courtney gesticulated and made eye-contact with the audience as she recited this original piece from memory. She said that she feels much of the power of the piece comes from the recognition that, while she is seeking small commitments, she’s fleeing the major commitment – the ring stolen from Saturn and offered by the universe.

Each poet to present read two pieces. Throughout the pieces presented, the major themes were aesthetics and the nature of beauty, as well as that of African American identity. It was interesting to note the divide between the older and younger generations, with the former being militant and somewhat paranoid and the later being more interested in issues as they affected humanity rather than in isolating African American from the rest of Americans. I was a little saddened by the emphasis of the “blackness of the art” to the exclusion of all other perspectives during much of the commentary because this limited several of the pieces, especially those of the younger poets. While, yes, the majority of these pieces were very clearly from the African American perspective and described the African American experience, they were also far more universal with themes and ideas that reach people of many ages, eras, and ethnicities.

One of my favorite performers was a graceful young woman in a vibrant, yellow dress who went by the name Tangent. She first had the audience put their hands side by side, palms upwards and thumbs facing out. She was sharing a lesson developed by Hannah Lynn that the fallopian tubes can be seen in the lines of the hands, and that, by touching others, you are giving life. Her first piece, a beautiful song called “Hands” addressed this piece. Her second poem, “I am not your rock (anymore)” was powerful and wonderful. She spoke rapidly with little rhyme and heavily syncopated lines. She talked about how important it is to give in relationships, but how, after a point, you need to draw the line if you are not getting anything back. The discussion of this piece was lively and interesting, focusing on the nature of relationships. It was interesting how there was yet another generational divide here, with the older individuals being more jaded and the younger ones being more hopeful. Ultimately, though, there emerged from the men in the room a theme of relationships as a more economic endeavor with the need for clear expectations to be established early in the relationship.

There was a notable mixture of music and poetry, and many of the performers sang as well as recited and performed. We even had a communal birthday celebration for Carolyn, who had performed a Billie Holiday Song and later an a capella version of a poem mixing music with emcee-style verse with Courtney. The refrain was

“I could love ya / I could cradle you / Back to Africa / to the Palm of the Creator / By way of Jamaica”.

Next, the featured performer, 2 Deep the Poetess, took the floor. She was as amazing and powerful a performer as I’d recalled from her hosting of the DC 11^th Hour Slam. The first poem, “I’m Going to See My Mother” had me teary-eyed. She started it as a gospel-style song sung with eyes open. It transformed into spoken words as she described her struggle to create her own identity as opposed to living under the identity of her deceased mother. It was beautiful. Her next piece, “Blackness 101” was a fun and playful piece that looked at the lack of education about African American history in schools. My favorite line was:

“I want to know why you’re sitting here listening to a poem that won’t do nothing but put an idea in your mind”.

It seemed to capture the whole ethos of the spoken word movement, as Ryan Mergen discussed with me, the idea that you can use your words to make a powerful impact in the world. This poem also made me wonder, once again, about the difference between recognizing one’s heritage as opposed to creating a whole new subculture.

The next piece, “Hungry” was based on one of 2 Deep’s actual experiences with Racism in the PG county mall. While in line at the Taco Bell, she starting talking with one of the white patrons, a woman who was very hostile to the influx of Latin Americans into the country. Little did she realize that 2 Deep was half Latina. The piece was powerful, especially when 2 Deep gave the context, and I loved the line “please order yourself a taste of humble pie.” However, as she was finishing her explanation, I couldn’t help but wonder how many of the people in the room would ever guess that Kevin – the fairest completed in our group – was half Ecuadorian.

Her next poem, “Ameritruth Airlines” was inspired by an airline commercial with the tagline “you are now free to move about the country”. This poem explored the state of politics in the contemporary US, and it expressed great frustration with the inability of the populace to actualize itself in a complex legal system. 2 Deep made extensive use of her physical presence in this piece, gesturing like a stewardess and adding a whole new layer of meaning to the words with her hands.

Her final piece, “DOC” for “Dead on Contact” was the delightful poem she’d presented at the 11^th hour slam describing how she would not take abuse from anyone. I loved it even more the second time around, and I realized how much I’d like to hear many of these poems again.