True to my intention of starting this blog, I want to start writing a series of posts about my favorite books, writers, poets, and all things wordsmith-y. (My original intention was to start this post on Monday and call it my "Must Read Monday." Maybe by next week, I'll be together enough to actually get the post up on Monday!) I figured I would start my "Must Read" series with the poet whose work inspired the title of my blog: Gwendolyn Brooks.
The first poem I read by Ms. Brooks was the English class anthology staple "We Real Cool." As might be apparent from my entries so far, brevity isn't exactly my strong suit. So I'm fascinated by writers who can make an impact with a minimal number of words. Ernest Hemingway (who will surface again in this series) is one of my favorite novelists for this reason. But Ms. Brooks takes word economy to a whole other level in "We Real Cool." In 24 words, she seems to simultaneously capture the swagger and fear of a "lost generation" of African American males in urban Chicago. I see so much of the kids I work with in those 24 words. That sense of thrill-seeking, trying to live on the edge in order to feel anything good, if only for a fleeting instant. It comes in forms of music, drugs and alcohol, fighting. It had a sense of desolation buried under the bravado that only a teenager seems to be able to muster. It's a remarkable piece.
"The Lovers of the Poor" is a stinging commentary on the idea of targeted welfare to those who "deserve it." Though it was written in 1963, the themes are just as relevant in a post-welfare reform world that insists on "workfare" and backing single parents into a corner. The harsh, alliterative edges of the language are clipped and "proper," fitting of the ladies of the Betterment League. It really makes me think about my motives in my professional life. It's kind of a gut check for me. It forces me to examine my own feelings about my middle class status, my whiteness, my position of immense privilege and what I can, and should, do about it.
But my favorite poems is, not surprisingly, "Jane Addams." Jane Addams is a constant source of inspiration for me personally, and for my profession as whole. She took incredible risks and bucked social convention for a woman of her time, in both her personal and professional life. But the thing that has always been most inspiring to me was that her connection was personal. She had a huge impact on systems, to be certain, but the crux of her work was helping each individual better their own individual circumstances. She made the personal political long before the feminist movement made it fashionable. And Ms. Brooks' poem does a beautiful job at balancing those pieces of Jane Addams' life and work. The short, declaritive thoughts like "You matter, so I bother" and "The world might continue" are matter of fact but heavy with meaning. I keep a lithograph copy of the poem on my wall at work to remind me that no matter how insignificant my contribution feels today, the world can change in a small way, everyday.
Ms. Brooks' blend of social criticism and lyricism is something I constantly strive for. She finds beauty in such unconventional subjects and places, which inspires me to draw out strength from unconventional sources.
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