Art
‘Words are inadequate’: disaster relief through poetry
by Natalie Park
Monday November 14, 2005
It had really come to us in scraps of fact. There had been a hurricane. Having ripened in the Gulf coast and let loose its heavy fruits in New Orleans, La., it had been devastating, surely. Her name was Katrina. That was just about all most Sarah Lawrence students would know about the disaster, if at all, amidst the leftover chaos of orientation and move-in week.
“I didn’t know how bad it was until my roommate brought it to my attention and I think the one thing that she said was, ‘Oh my god there’s anarchy’, and it was from a headline we read in the Times,” First-year Rebecca Rubenstein said.
The quiet and pleasant atmosphere sometimes referred to as a “bubble” lacked the news channel regurgitation most people across America were watching with growing horror. As the days wore on, the average SLC-er seemed reliant on only the odd catch phrase to fill in the blanks of an already vacant comprehension.
“Nobody knew what the fuck was going on… the first years don’t know where the TV is, and I didn’t have the sense to go to a bookstore and get a goddamn New York Times… I only saw it three days ago when they had the satellite photos… flood before, flood after,” first-year Tait Foster said. Then there were those with family, friends, and connections in the places that were afflicted, like first-year Lauren Klotzman.
First Year Jenifer Wilson had a friend in the University of New Orleans: “She was displaced by the hurricane,” Wilson said. “I’ve known this girl for about five years, and she’s really close to me… when I first heard about it I was scared out of my fucking mind.”
Another First-year, Noah Fuller, went to New Orleans on a road trip this past summer. “There was this jazz club that I went to, it was amazing and the people there were lovely. I saw a picture of the place flooded and under it, it said the owner who played drums in the band I saw, he refused to leave… I had had an intricate and very long conversation with him and he was a wonderful man. Tragedy is always so much more terrible when it’s relevant to us as individuals.
On the evening of Sept. 8, there was an abundant and varied spread—everything from Starbucks coffee and TGIF chicken fingers to homemade mac n’ cheese.
The disorientation of the past week seemed to have lifted, perhaps with the help of the previous night’s teach-in, “Katrina— What Went Wrong?”, Dr. Tricia Rose’s talk about institutionalized racism and contemporary black culture during the first week, as well as the sudden call for unity amongst Sarah Lawrence students.
“I think this is an important moment in regards to how we come together, create community, create activism and do something that gives back to the people but also celebrates who we are and our humanity,” said graduate student Le’Mil Leiland.
So what was it about the ten or so artists that performed that night that would keep Reisinger swollen with people for three hours, a feat Ken Schneck describes as “not even remotely an easy feat?”
It was sustained sustained attention span— that of an entertainment-savvy demographic with Thursday night alternatives— that could not have been just about the hype, the press, piqued interests, or the noise. From the moment that the first poet claimed the stage— Monet, co-hostess of the evening with fellow poet and Sarah Lawrence student, Jasmyne-Nicole Walker— we knew something good was happening.
Sophomore Shamara Wyllie professed later on, “My hand wouldn’t stop shaking… this whole night has been about testifying to me, just saying amen and thinking about the spiritual essence tonight… I hope the people in New Orleans can feel this right now— I know they can feel this right now. So I’m feeling love.”
“Everything that was said tonight was truth, no exaggeration, everything that was said exists in the world, and we are going to do something about that… we are doing something about that,” Sophomore I’Nasah Crockett.
One piece by Walker opened a cappella; the song suggesting we “get our shit together, cuz everyone feels safe until it’s coming for them.”
“I learned a lot more about the social impact of the hurricane by listening to the poems, especially about what communities it affected,” First-year Maire McClare said. “I hadn’t realized it, I had thought of it only in terms of natural disaster versus the government’s questionable motives behind its slowness to act, and what that had to do with race.”
The poetry was no new-age love affirmation, with the exception of one acoustic duo that broke up the intensity with the multi-octave refrain “sunshine.” Rives read “Mockingbird,” which described “Johnny Appleseed of sound” aspirations.
Another notable performer was Michael Cirelli of Urban Word, a NYC-based outreach organization that facilitates writing and performance for teens. He and several others on the roster were involved with the program as teachers.
Abiodun Oyewole , a former member of the group “Last Poets” and a pioneer of the civil rights and black power movements, was present as well.
“A lot of people don’t know who the Last Poets are… if Grand Master Flash and the Furious Five are the grandfathers of hip-hop, then the Last Poets are the great grandfathers… they basically started it single handedly… the fact that one of those guys showed up is amazing,” Senior Matt Weiss said.
The concluding poem utilized the voices of everyone in Reisinger, who were asked to utter one word for the last line.
“When everyone yelled ‘freedom’— it was the best thing ever, it was releasing after the build up of emotion and tension,” First-year Carolyn Kramer.
Throughout the event several things were auctioned, including a lunch with the poets that sold for $200. T-shirts, books and CDs were also proffered on a table outside of Reisinger. At one point in the plea for donations, Monet stressed that financial support was valuable, but that one’s time and energy was a greater gift.
“I liked when they told us not to give money just because we felt guilty. I had considered giving money out of guilt before, and I actually did on the way in, but on the way out— I didn’t feel guilty anymore,” said a student who wished to remain anonymous.
By the close of the evening, it was evident that this had been no normal fundraiser. Monet’s response was, “To see it unfold, beautiful. In that room, it was more than just a bunch of poets and students… it was souls intertwining, a breath of love, a breath of life… all I can say is, thank you.” More than $7000 was collected for the NAACP, but the event also ignited something longer lasting— that of the desire to change. Several students expressed renewed inspiration to write, others insisted on the need to pursue more events, and one person even suggested, only half-jokingly, that Sarah Lawrence smokers should try donating some of their cigarette money.
First-year Drew Wechsler declared, “I didn’t know how to feel coming out of there. I didn’t know whether to break everything in my sight or go back to my dorm room and cry.” Some refused to comment, perhaps for the same reason Senior Sam Conway said,
“Yes, I do (want to comment), but I have no idea what that (comment) would be,” when asked if he wanted to say something, or First-year Julia Korn who said, “Words are inadequate.” The night had affirmed that yes, we have a lot to say – but that we also have the precious capacity to listen.
