WRITTEN COMMUNICATION / JULY 2004

“The Song Is Unfinished”

The New Literate and Literary
and Their Institutions

MAISHA T. FISHER
Emory University

In this article, the author builds on McHenry and Heath’s study of the “literate” and the
“literary” and McHenry’s research on “forgotten readers” by examining the often
undocumented literacy traditions and practices of men and women of African descent.
First, the author traces the legacy of blended traditions of both written and spoken words
in African American writing and activism. Continuing with an examination of Black
literary and social movements, the author asserts that the recent renaissance of activities
around literacy, such as spoken word poetry events as well as writing collectives, con-
tributes to a historical continuum. Ultimately, the author shows the importance of the
inextricable link between history, literacy studies, and the teaching of language arts.

Keywords: literacy; African American literacy programs; spoken word poetry; com-
munity literacy; Shirley Brice Heath; Elizabeth McHenry

Look at me
I am we
we are old
we are the beginning of life
we survive the seasons
we are new buds upon the highest branches . . .
—Ruth Forman (1993)1

Poet and activist Ruth Forman began to reimagine herself and other
young poets of the late 20th century as “the young magicians.” Unlike

Author’s Note: I would like to acknowledge my friends and colleagues, Dr. Valerie
F. Kinloch and Dr. Andrea Lunsford, for their feedback on earlier drafts of this manu-
script. Many thanks to Dr. James A. Fisher for emphasizing the importance of history
and to Dr. Robin D.G. Kelley for listening attentively to many of these ideas.

WRITTEN COMMUNICATION, Vol. 21 No. 3, July 2004 290-312

DOI: 10.1177/0741088304265475
© 2004 Sage Publications

290
 Maisha T. Fisher 291

the typical image of magicians with “trick canes,” Forman contended

that “with a mere wave of the pen,” these young magicians could
“transform grey concrete to yellow brick roads” (p. 86). Emerging
from a tradition of poet activism, Forman was a student in June Jor-
dan’s Poetry for the People2 program, in which university students
were prepared to work with student poets in public schools. Forman’s
proclamation “Look at me/I am we” in a poem dedicated to African
American survival conveys that she and her fellow young magicians
understand their place in a long line of literate and literary practices
and is best summarized in one line: “we are new buds upon the high-
est branches” (p. 60). Who are these young magicians that Forman
writes so bravely about, and what are their institutions for reading,
writing, speaking and “doing” the word? And most important, what
are the literate and literary traditions from which these “new buds”
emerge, and what do they add to the continuum? A decade ago,
McHenry and Heath (1994) asserted that the “literate and literary”
contributions of African Americans, particularly the middle class,
were often omitted in scholarly works. Arguing that efforts in multi-
culturalism gave various ethnic groups “hooks” or “cultural logos,”
McHenry and Heath examined the writing and reading efforts of
African Americans, which they believed to be overshadowed by the
focus on African American orality. Providing a history of the often
undocumented African American literary clubs and journals from
1830 to 1940, McHenry and Heath concluded that “research still has
much to tell” about these writers and readers. In a study that fol-
lowed, McHenry (2002) further explored the history of “forgotten
readers” or literary societies in African American communities.
McHenry argued that research on the literacy practices of people of
African descent needs to “decenter formal education” and begin to
examine the institutions these men and women created for them-
selves either when access to formal institutions was denied or when
the opportunities in formal institutions was substandard. To achieve
this, McHenry suggested that studies focus on the institutions in
which literature has been “enjoyed, discussed and debated” by peo-
ple of African descent. The challenges that McHenry and Heath put
forth in their study of the literate and the literary and McHenry’s call
for “new directions” on research related to African American literacy
practices are still concerns that research on reading, writing, and liter-
acy needs to explore and address.
The aim of this article is to examine the legacy of literacy from
which the “new literate and literary” have evolved, in addition to
292 WRITTEN COMMUNICATION / JULY 2004

their current literacy practices, which include participation in spoken

word poetry open mics, writing groups, and anthologies of poetry
and prose. Additionally, this article seeks to examine the institutions
in which they exchange writing, reading, and orality as part of the his-
torical continuum that McHenry and Heath’s (1994) work began to
unfold and that McHenry (2002) extensively documented in her
study of literary societies of the early 19th century through the early
20th century. Like the writers and readers in McHenry and Heath’s
work, the new literate and literary have created their own institutions
for holding forums and exchanging ideas; cafés have been trans-
formed into literary salons and bookstores into educational centers.
In a study of spoken word poetry open mic venues and Black-owned
and -operated bookstores (Fisher 2003a, 2003b), I found that many
men and women of African descent were turning to these communi-
ties to access both spoken and written words. In these spaces, speak-
ing was a natural outgrowth of reading and writing, but most impor-
tant, all three were linked with a sense of purpose. In this article, I
integrate the experiences and perspectives of Michael Datcher and
Gabrilla Ballard, two “expressionists” from the larger study who
embody this tradition and illuminate this link between history and
the present. First, this article addresses the place of “orality” beside
“literacy” in the vernacular tradition of African American writing.
Next, the article begins to show the history of creating and maintain-
ing grassroots literacy learning efforts by unpacking the legacy of
“secret literacy” and “self-help schools” in history of Africans in the
Americas. Third, the article looks at Black literary movements that
have served as models for this recent renaissance of words and the
emergence of independent Black institutions (IBIs). What may appear
at the onset as a departure from the discussion of the intersections of
orality and literacy and more of a historical analysis of Black institu-
tions is strategic and purposeful. To understand orality and the acts of
speaking to be important aspects of literacy is to understand that the
legacy of literacy for people of African descent has historically been a
precursor to action. Last, the article addresses the recent manifesta-
tions of community-based literacy spaces and the anthologizing of
this new generation and their commitment to “the new era of Black
words” (Alexander, 1998). In sum, the new literate and literary under-
stand how each generation contributes to a historical continuum of
literate practices and values that spring from a tradition of written
and spoken words. Transcending class, age, and ethnicity while
refuting monolithic views of Blackness, these new writers and
 Maisha T. Fisher 293

readers reclaim orality as part of their tradition and believe it to be an

extension of the written word.

NAVIGATING THE WORD,

THE TEXT, AND THE “CALL”

In a study that frames African American poetry as part of vernacu-

lar culture, Brown (1999) asserted that African American poetry and
writings were generally written to be shared aloud. Arguing that
writing extends from aspects of orality such as speaking and singing,
Brown offered a framework for blurring boundaries between the
written and spoken words. Without the oral exchange, according to
Brown, the written is dependent on the spoken:

The African American poet uses scriptings as a way to communicate

voicings. Writing is an extension of speaking or singing. African world
cultures value word skills, poetry making, story telling, and the literary
extensions of these more public activities; they rely on an audience that
is hearing as well as reading. (p. 29)

In considering Brown’s analysis of how African American poets

work, one finds important educational implications for the teaching
of literacy. At the very least, one finds it useless to continuously
dichotomize “oral” and “literate” practices. On a practical level, one
finds extended opportunities for students to use multiple forms of
expression if they are helpful to their composition processes. Further-
more, Brown’s analyses shifted the focus to the importance of pur-
pose in such writing; the emphasis of the audience possessing a key
role in the production and performance of African American poetry
presupposes that the composer or performer has to have something
he or she believes is important enough to be shared aloud. Brown
described African American oratory as having a “double conscious-
ness.” According to Brown’s theory, it seems that people of African
descent do not merely straddle orality and literacy but that orality is a
major force for literacy; it is the spoken word that gets heard by the
community. Early research on the African American oral tradition
had similar implications; Smitherman (1999) explained that part of
the African worldview is the belief that “written documents are lim-
ited in what they can teach about life and survival in the world” (p.
202). A strong example of Smitherman’s argument can be found in a
294 WRITTEN COMMUNICATION / JULY 2004

study that examined African American female “speakers and writ-

ers” in the North from 1830 to 1880. Peterson (1995) asserted that a fig-
ure such as Sojourner Truth used “Africanisms” as well as “standard
literary conventions” to produce literary expression. By using these
conventions, Truth not only created a space for Black women’s role in
political activism; she made her lectures accessible to a wider audi-
ence by mixing genres.3 In sum, it was not just enough to write; orality
was a way to breathe life into words and mobilize people of African
descent.

CONNECTING THE DOTS:

(RE)CREATING EDUCATION
AND LITERACY IN THE NEW WORLD

Tracing the “Black struggle for literacy” during the 19th century,
Holt (1990) argued that the goal of education for Black Americans was
“social as well as personal improvement to uplift the people, to make
conditions better” (p. 93). Referencing accounts of enslaved Africans,
Holt explained that the irony of beatings administered by slave mas-
ters to their slaves who dared to become literate reinforced the impor-
tance of education. Although there are accounts of slave owners who
taught their slaves some reading, writing, and math skills, Holt high-
lighted the contributions of Black men and women who held “secret
schools” in which they passed on whatever reading and writing skills
they had to others. Often, these schools were without walls and
assembled wherever an able teacher and a willing student were avail-
able. Holt noted that White, northern missionaries are often docu-
mented as the major contributors to African Americans’ education.
Acknowledging their “heroic” efforts, Holt maintained that there is a
lack of scholarship that shows the determination of African Ameri-
cans to get their own education. Holt referred to the educational sys-
tem established by Blacks after slavery as a “chain letter of instruc-
tion” (p. 94), whereby people shared the little information they had
with one another and continued to pass it on. During the Civil War
and the Reconstruction period, Black teachers often conducted their
own classes in self-help schools with whatever material and space
they had. According to Gutman (1987), sometimes, a “cellar” or an
“old school-house” was used as a literacy learning space. Even if a
teacher was “an old negro in spectacles” or “a colored woman, who as
a family servant had some privileges” (p. 270), he or she shared
 Maisha T. Fisher 295

whatever literacy skills he or she had with other Black people. Former
slaves4 actively sought educational opportunities for their children
(Morris, 1981). From these accounts, we can trace how a tradition of
reading, writing, and speaking became a part of doing as well. In
other words, after one became literate, it was then the responsibility of
that individual to make a contribution to his or her immediate and at
times at-large community.

LEARNING FROM BLACK LITERARY MOVEMENTS

Suggesting that readers, writers, and speakers who emerged dur-

ing the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s brought together oral and
written traditions of African Americans, McHenry and Heath (1994)
examined the ways in which various forms of expression overlapped.
Readers were being introduced to many writers through the publica-
tions of literary clubs and societies, while writers were highly sought
after for lectures. Characterized as a “cultural flowering” (Gates &
McKay, 1997), the Harlem Renaissance affected not only Black people
in United States but those throughout the African diaspora, such as
African and West Indian students in Paris and throughout the Carib-
bean. This observation was of course made earlier in Alain Locke’s
(1925) The New Negro. Locke also asserted that “Negro Life” in Har-
lem was taking advantage of the opportunity for “group expression”
and “self determination” (p. 7). As literary scholar, Arnold
Rampersad (1997, p. 936) noted that “for a people hardly more than a
half century removed from slavery” and a people “enmeshed in the
chains of dehumanizing segregation,” the Harlem Renaissance had
many successes.
In the literary movements that followed between 1940 and 1960,
there was even more of a push to create work that addressed social
issues that emerged from events such as World War II; the great
migration of African Americans from the South to the North; labor
disputes; desegregation; and the independence of African countries
such as Ghana, Nigeria, Senegal, and Algeria (McDowell & Spillers,
1997). Texts such as Richard Wright’s (1940) Native Son (1940) and
Lorraine Hansberry’s (1959) play A Raisin in the Sun confronted race
relations in the United States, depicting Black Americans’ frustration
with the “American dream” while attempting to demonstrate the
humanity of Black Americans during intense social and political tur-
moil. Two poets who emerged during this period, Margaret Walker
296 WRITTEN COMMUNICATION / JULY 2004

and Gwendolyn Brooks, would eventually be mentors in the Black

Arts Movement that followed in the 1960s. Brooks, known for writing
about the conditions of working-class Black Americans in Chicago,
led writing workshops for poets and worked tirelessly with Black
youth affiliated with gangs. Setting a new precedent, Brooks was
committed to getting her work out to the community: “Brooks’
involvement in poetry workshops with the Blackstone Rangers, a
Chicago youth gang, and her expressed desire to get poetry, in her
words, into ‘tavern atmosphere[s], on street corners,’ and in prisons
are examples of this outreach” (McDowell & Spillers, 1997, p. 1327).
Brooks believed that words incited action. As a poet, Brooks used
her craft as a tool to access the humanity of Black youth. The tradition
of transforming physical spaces such as a “street corner” into teach-
ing and learning settings exemplified Holt’s (1990) concept of the
chain letter of instruction. Brooks created literacy learning spaces
wherever there were people willing to participate. Brooks inspired
many poets and writers in the Black Arts Movement of the 1960s and
1970s5; when her work became nationally recognized, she chose Black
presses for most of her writing. Following the same ideology of poets
such as Brooks, the Black Arts Movement took place at a time when
many Black artists unapologetically linked their writing, poetry,
visual, and performing arts with the problems of Black America. The
activism and connection between art and “cultural nationalism” was
viewed by the cofounders of the Black Arts Movement as the antithe-
sis of the Harlem Renaissance. In a defining essay on the Black Arts
Movement, Larry Neal (1971) critiqued the Harlem Renaissance for
upholding a particular kind of “mythology” or romanticized version
of Black life. The Black Arts Movement, according to Neal, used art to
confront and challenge Black people’s status in the United States.
However, both movements contributed to the blended traditions of
spoken and written words through poetry, theater, public lectures,
and publishing demonstrating the double consciousness of orality
and literacy. There was an expectation during the Black Arts Move-
ment that literacy and literature would lead to changes that would
enhance life for people of African descent. Linked to the Black Power
Movement, the Black Arts Movement occurred at a time when many
Black artists believed that their work had to address the needs and
passions of Black America, or else it was irrelevant. In his essay
“Toward a Definition: Black Poetry of the Sixties (After LeRoi Jones),”
Don L. Lee (1971a) (now Haki Mahdubuti) compared and contrasted
these movements:
 Maisha T. Fisher 297

Black poetry of the sixties is not too different from black poetry of the
forties and fifties; there has always existed in the verse a certain amount
of blackness. . . . The new and powerful voices of the sixties came to
light mainly because of the temper of the times; it accented the human-
rights struggle for black people in the world. (p. 238)

Madhubuti, a poet and teacher and the founder of Third World

Press,6 aligned the Black Arts Movement with the work of poets such
as Brooks and other writers of the 1940s and 1950s. Additionally, the
emphasis on the “human-rights struggle for black people in the
world” was exemplified through the commitment to create and main-
tain IBIs that cultivated literacy and learning, such as printing presses
and schools. Third World Press was a part of the Institute for Positive
Education,7 which included Black Books Bulletin (BBB), the New Con-
cept School (both discussed in the following sections of this article),
and other community-based programs.
Prior to the founding of Third World Press in Chicago, Dudley
Randall founded Broadside Press in Detroit in 1960.8 There was an
understanding that for Black people to share their ideas and dissemi-
nate information among one another that they deemed relevant, they
would have to create those opportunities for themselves rather than
depend on someone else to do it for them. This ideology permeated
this time period. For example, when Chicago-based Negro Digest
(later Black World) emerged during the Black Arts Movement, it
became a vehicle for poets and writers to share their work, in addition
to being a bulletin board for information on new publications and lit-
erary contests. When I worked as a personal assistant to poet and
activist June Jordan during my 1st year in graduate school, I pre-
sented her with a copy of one of her pieces published in a copy of Black
World that my father had preserved over the years. She explained to
me that Black World was a way that authors such as herself could have
conversations and debates with one another; these writers often met
in the pages of Black World before they met in person. Although the
journal began as Negro Digest in 1961, the name was officially changed
to Black World in 1970. Negro Digest and Black World editor Hoyt
Fuller,9 in a 1971 interview with BBB, explained the reason for this
change. Fuller wanted Black people “wherever black people happen
to be” to understand that they were grappling with similar issues and
could use a literary journal as a way to address these issues. The push
to “solve common problems” was the strength of blending the oral
and the written together; if words were both spoken and performed in
298 WRITTEN COMMUNICATION / JULY 2004

a way that would inspire others through art, speeches, and lectures as
well as made accessible through print for dissemination to Black peo-
ple in the United Sates and abroad, there would be a global “bulletin”
for these readers, writers, speakers and, as Peterson (1995) character-
ized, “doers” of the word. This metaphorical bulletin for Black writ-
ers, readers, and publishers was part of the mission for the Institute of
Positive Education’s BBB. BBB included a “continuing” bibliography
of books published by Black presses and about Black people globally.
Don Lee (1971b), the editor of BBB, explained that the aim of the
publication was to provide information to the many mentors in the
Black community:

In our small way, THE BLACK BOOKS BULLETIN will try to supply
positive information and images to black people who influence other
black people, such as teachers (elementary, high school, college, etc.),
postal workers, policemen, librarians, students, doctors, lawyers, den-
tists, nurses, writers, artists and others. It is premature to think that we
can reach the masses of black people . . . but we do feel that we can reach
some of the people who influence and direct the lives of others. (p. 25)

BBB was concerned with reaching not only “formal” educators but
also men and women who were potential mentors to Black people
through everyday interactions with service workers, health care pro-
fessionals, and artists. At the core of this mission statement was the
belief that teaching and learning occurred daily and that part of liter-
acy learning for people of African descent included these spoken
transactions. Also central to this statement was the belief that learning
could take place wherever there is a culture of respect between partic-
ipants. During this time, there was a movement to create schools in
which these values and beliefs would be infused into the curricula.
The same poets, writers, and artists who fueled the Black Arts Move-
ments and the creation of printing presses and journals were also
advocates for the education of children of African descent.

FROM “SECRET SCHOOLS” TO

INDEPENDENT BLACK INSTITUTIONS

By the 1970s, the vision of self-determined education shown in the

secret schools during the enslavement of Africans in America as well
as self-help schools and literary salons during the Reconstruction
 Maisha T. Fisher 299

once again became a priority to many Black Americans. However, in

this era, there was a shift in the focus from proving one’s respectabil-
ity, or “citizenry” as McHenry (2002) documented, to personal
growth and community development in the same way artists and
expressionists in the Black Arts Movement asserted themselves in a
literary tradition. Following an era of writing and arts that specifi-
cally addressed the needs of people of African descent, Black commu-
nity schools and African-centered schools, or IBIs (Lee, 1992), were
being organized throughout the United States. In an article
contextualizing the emergence of IBIs in the 1970s and arguing for
their relevance, Lee (1992) asserted that the organizers of these Afri-
can-centered schools were proactive in creating learning
opportunities for Black children:

Rather than simply complain and react, the independent African cen-
tered school movement has taken a proactive stance, defining within a
community context the possibilities and gifts that Black children offer
the world, and creating institutions to manifest its ideals. Institutions
validate knowledge, help to shape vision, inculcate values, and pro-
vide the foundation for community stability. (p. 161)

IBIs are important to the tradition of literate and literary communi-

ties because they represent the intersections of literacy, education,
and activism. For example, African-centered schools such as the
Brooklyn-based Uhuru Sasa, founded in 1971, shared its space with
the East. In addition to housing the Uhuru Sasa school, the East also
included a performance space, a store specializing in fresh produce,
and an independent newspaper (Black News). Located in the Bedford-
Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, the East provided many IBIs with a
blueprint for a working infrastructure:

Walking into the East is like entering into a new Black world. You are
engulfed by the aroma of fragrant incense as you gaze upon entire walls
of colorfully painted murals of Black heroes and symbols . . .at the East
everyone works. Someone is always at the front selling Black books and
periodicals, while in the back there may be a film, a community meet-
ing. . . . Upstairs during the weekdays there are classes in session, both
in the afternoon and evening for both adults and children—the young,
old, men and women. (“The East,” 1971, p. 28)

According to Lee (1992), African-centered schools have valuable

lessons for American public schools; children are placed at the center
300 WRITTEN COMMUNICATION / JULY 2004

of a value system that includes teachers, parents, the neighborhood or

community, and the community of professional peers. Another
important link is how poets and writers saw themselves and their
work as part of a larger frame that included education in their com-
munities. These values echoed those of the literary societies docu-
mented in McHenry and Heath’s (1994) work as well as McHenry’s
(2002) comprehensive study of such communities. For example,
McHenry described the importance of reading aloud along, with reci-
tation in 19th century literary societies to sharpen oral and written
skills while building confidence in their members. IBIs also valued
building confidence in youth of African descent:

Our goal was to develop an educational institution within Chicago’s

Black community that would teach African American history and cul-
ture as well as imbue the values of Black self-love and cooperation
among the children it served. Moreover, it was envisioned that this
institution would operate independent of resources and influences
from outside the Black community. (p. 162)

The goals of IBIs such as New Concept Development Center

(NCDC) mirrored the vision of people of African descent throughout
the United States. Poets, writers, and activists Amina and Amiri
Baraka organized the African Free School in Newark, New Jersey,
once again emphasizing the importance of literacy being guided by a
sense of purpose. The African Free School, like NCDC, offered tradi-
tional courses found in most public schools, including history, read-
ing, spelling, and math, while also incorporating Swahili “in relation-
ship to English,” as well as hieroglyphics. An important aspect of
these schools that should be emphasized was their commitments to
teach all traditional subjects found in most American public schools;
there was never any question that students should learn to read,
write, and speak English. As stated in all capital letters in Uhuru
Sasa’s handbook, “STUDENTS MUST BE ABLE TO READ AND
WRITE FLUENTLY.” However, in addition to these skills, Black com-
munity schools were dedicated to cultivating leadership and
organizing qualities in people of African descent.
In the next two sections, I introduce poets and writers who embody
the link between the history of literacy practices for people of African
descent in the context of the United States and their current institu-
tions. For the new literate and the literary and their communities,
 Maisha T. Fisher 301

there is a need to experience language communally, and not only for

the sake of the printed page, much like their predecessors.

“BLOOD IS RUNNING BETWEEN

THESE LINES”: SUSTAINING CURRENT
LITERATE AND LITERARY COMMUNITIES

In a study of two spoken word poetry open mic events and two
Black-owned and -operated bookstore poet and author events in
northern California, I examined the literacy practices of event orga-
nizers, expressionists, and audience members (Fisher 2003a, 2003b).
In addition to being a participant in these spaces, keeping
ethnographic field notes, and videotaping events, I conducted inter-
views with 70 participants ranging in age from 19 to 69 years. One
theme that emerged from these interviews was the participants’ sense
of history and how they viewed themselves in a continuum of poets,
writers, readers, musicians, and activists who participated in similar
literacy communities. Although most people I interviewed illumi-
nated this theme, I have integrated the experiences and perspectives
of two participants who fluidly discussed their writing and purposes
as part of a larger story for people of African descent. Michael Datcher
(2001) of Los Angeles, a poet and the author of the national bestselling
memoir Raising Fences: A Black Man’s Love Story,10 and Gabrilla
Ballard, a poet, songwriter, and musician from New Orleans, partici-
pated in both spoken word poetry open mic events at the Jahva House
Café Speak Easy and the Jamaica House Mahogany in my study.
Additionally, Datcher did readings of Raising Fences in both Marcus
Books and Carol’s Books. Writers’ workshops and collectives in addi-
tion to open mic events for expressionists such as Datcher and Ballard
have become ways for many writers of African descent to share their
work and get constructive feedback. These forums bring together
oral, aural, and written traditions; the formats for the writing work-
shops generally include time for interacting with texts in addition to
sharing the works aloud. Open mic events welcome all forms of
expression, such as poetry, singing, rapping, and sometimes dance;
the prevailing theme is that everyone has a message worth conveying.
Even though I met Datcher and Ballard at the venues in my study, I
learned that their participation evolved from previous experiences in
similar literacy communities. Two collaborative reading, writing, and
performing groups were part of the foundation for Datcher and
302 WRITTEN COMMUNICATION / JULY 2004

Ballard: the Anansi Writers Workshop in Los Angeles and the

NOMMO11 Literary Society in New Orleans, respectively. Both
Datcher and Ballard noted these two spaces as being critical to their
development as writers and expressionists through rituals of per-
formance, practice, and feedback that helped them build confidence.
In a section of South Central Los Angeles lies the “village” of
Leimert Park. This village is home to many Black businesses, includ-
ing the World Stage. Serving as a performance space, the World Stage
was established in 1992 by jazz drummer Billy Higgins and commu-
nity-based poet Kamau Daáood. In Raising Fences, Datcher recounts
his first encounter with Daáood in a chapter simply titled “World
Stage.” Datcher had been conducting a writing workshop for perfor-
mance poets in his home and learned of the World Stage writers work-
shop. Datcher wanted to revive the workshop and went to Leimert
Park to introduce himself to Daáood and discuss this possibility.
Daáood explained to Datcher in a scene from this chapter that the
World Stage was a “sacred space.” Although Datcher did not go into
details in the text, it is clear that Daáood trusted Datcher to carry on
this important tradition. The writers workshop at the World Stage
began before the open mic. Datcher, who was in his early 30s at the
time of our interview, explained to me that he had to learn about the
history of the World Stage and the musicians and poets who became
the pillars of this creative community. Elders such as Daáood and
Higgins passed this history on to poets such as Datcher, who contin-
ued to foster this spirit among their peers. Datcher told me,

Artists come in a very serious way—and [with] much respect and much
love I should say as well—and provide very healthy feedback. We
encourage you to keep in mind that there blood is running between
these lines . . . this workshop is so dynamic, so alive, and people are
thinking and readers are getting really incredible feedback. (interview,
March 26, 2002)

Datcher’s inclusion of the World Stage in his memoir marked an

important time in his personal development when he began to be crit-
ical with his own writing. In Raising Fences, Datcher noted that those
who “workshopped” their poems often became the most appreciated
poets on the mic:

There is no sign-up list for the workshop segment. The first person to
bound onstage in front of the mic gets to read and receive feedback.
 Maisha T. Fisher 303

After two years of being involved, I realize that the poets who work-
shop the most have become the best poets. As a result, the workshop
section has become extremely popular. Poets who plan to receive feed-
back arrive early and cluster in the front-row seats. As soon as the per-
son onstage finishes and steps one foot off the stage, the would-be-next
workshoppers aggressively jump on. If it’s close the crowd determines
who was first. This good-natured ritual sends the message that while
others flee from constructive criticism, the World Stage poets are hun-
gry to get better. (p. 203)

The ritual of racing to the stage and the mic at the workshop
showed the passion and eagerness these writers expressed for their
developing writing and speaking skills. Writers were dedicated to
both traditions and did not spent time assigning a hierarchy to either.
The mic and stage were an extension of the journal and pen. Datcher
emphasized that the workshop attracted a “full range” of the Black
community “across economic lines and across ideology.” At the time
of our interview, the Anansi Writers Workshop proudly claimed six
published books by participants. Datcher often told readers at the
open mics and bookstore events that his memoir was a “long poem”
that he considered part of the blues tradition in African American
music. Datcher described the blues tradition as growing out of
“Blacks being captured as prisoners of war from Africa and brought
to America and enslaved.” In addition to evolving from the blues tra-
dition, Datcher considered his writing to also flow from jazz music.
Jazz trumpeter Miles Davis was as influential to Datcher’s writing as
the poets and writers with whom he shared the World Stage. Because
the World Stage was both a jazz performance space and home to the
writers workshop, both musicians and poets saw each other as foun-
dational to their creativity. During his composition process, Datcher
said that he listened to Miles Davis’s famous album Kind of Blue,
which Datcher considered a “collage of Blackness,” or stories that
came from multiple experiences of being Black in the context of the
United States. Raising Fences chronicles Datcher’s life growing up in
South Central Los Angeles with a hardworking single mother and a
life of yearning for “picket fence dreams,” which Datcher described
as “a played-out metaphor in the white community but one still
secretly riding the bench in black neighborhoods nationwide” (p. 3).
Through his participation in the writing workshop and confronting
issues in his own life, Datcher developed the courage to tell his story.
Through the merging of music, poetry and prose Datcher carved
Raising Fences:
304 WRITTEN COMMUNICATION / JULY 2004

It’s just me trying to tell my hard luck life in a way that is artistic. I’m a
poet so I really believe in the power of language. . . . I can work it, twist
it, turn it and kind of meld it into patterned tapestry. So I wanted to tell
the story with a certain level of linguistic delicacy . . . o you would rec-
ognize the people in these stories, the voices that were talking to you in
this book. You recognize the rhythm. (interview, March 26, 2002)

Datcher also saw his memoir as being a way to convey that men of
African descent were both “human and beautiful.” Much like mem-
bers of the literary societies who saw their engagement with literature
as demonstrating to their former enslavers that they were not inferior,
Datcher viewed writing as a way for people of African descent to be
respected in the world. However, Datcher also believed that having a
facility with words both spoken and written was critical, and open
mics and Black bookstores were an important part of fostering this
skill:

If you can use the language in a way that is interesting, different and
powerful, people will respect that. For a business to deal in the produc-
tion of Black creation, of Black imagination is beautiful, and it’s a sym-
bol of hope. Because with education comes the opportunity to advance
in life and to uplift the race if you would. (interview, March 26, 2002)

I also met Gabrilla Ballard at the Jahva House Speak Easy open mic.
She was 23 at the time of the study and new to the northern California
poetry scene. However, she was familiar with similar networks in her
native New Orleans. After relocating to California to do work in edu-
cation reform, Ballard sought the Jahva House Speak Easy open mic
because she wanted to establish herself in a community of Black
expressionists who were also community activists. Ballard consid-
ered many of her poem-songs to be messages to people of African
descent. The first night I heard Ballard, she performed a poem-song
titled “Are You Ready?” while playing an acoustic guitar:

Are you ready

to stop living the lie?
Are you ready
to open your eyes?
Are you ready
to give up your life?
Are you ready?
 Maisha T. Fisher 305

By the end of the piece, Ballard had strategically changed you to we

and invited the open mic community to participate using the call-
and-response format. Ballard later explained in an interview that she
wrote this piece with people of African descent in mind:

When I say [in the song] “we build up walls—this ain’t us” I mean that
historically and even now in certain areas of the world we are con-
nected. We are a community and we take care of each other. I think
sometimes we are so concerned about being hurt or failing in others’
eyes that we don’t even try . . . if you mess up, okay you messed up but
at least you tried! (interview, May 14, 2002)

Because she worked with elementary school–aged students in

urban settings, Ballard’s work was sometimes influenced by her
efforts to help them see their own value and talents. Ballard believed
that her own self-confidence emerged writing and reading in partner-
ship with public performance. During our interview, Ballard
explained that her experience in a youth-centered church that encour-
aged her to write, direct, and perform plays in addition to her partici-
pation in an African-centered school and eventually her membership
in a collective of writers, readers, and speakers called the NOMMO
Literary Society were her foundation for being engaged in literacy
practices. In her church, Ballard and the youth in the congregation
were often asked to write plays about different issues in their commu-
nities. Ballard fondly remembered writing and directing a play about
drugs in the community: “My spirit was nurtured in speaking up
against injustice . . . when properly nurtured children can do any-
thing. Who knows what they grow up to be!” Both the school and the
literary society were part of the work that Kalamu ya Salaam did in
the New Orleans area. Salaam fostered the talents of young poets and
writers in New Orleans in the same way Daáood did in Los Angeles:

[Ahiadiana] was a school that was based in African, African American

culture. It’s an independent school and the curriculum was structured
by the teachers but it was very holistic. It was hands on; it taught us to
have love, respect and just honor for who we are as Africans—diasporic
Africans. You know that’s important because many of [the teachers]
had Pan-Africanist views; we didn’t feel separate from the continent,
you know what I mean? And some people argue that the school pre-
pared us for a world that doesn’t exist. I don’t agree with that. I feel that
the school created-prepared us to create the world that we wanted to
306 WRITTEN COMMUNICATION / JULY 2004

exist because what other reason are we teaching anyway? (interview,

May 14, 2002)

Ahiadiana introduced Ballard to a world where she believed stu-

dents were able to be active in their learning processes and made
aware of the history of Black people in the United States and abroad.
Ballard said tha teachers consistently consulted students about pro-
jects and what they wanted to contribute to the learning community.
Ballard’s love of reading, writing, and performing were only begin-
ning to be cultivated at this time. Even after Ballard left the school,
Salaam continued to be her mentor and eventually published one of
her poems in an anthology. Salaam heard Ballard perform her poem
“When Daddy Dies” about the loss of her father when Ballard was 15;
Salaam helped her edit the poem, and Ballard explained that “from
that point on,” she continued to write and became a member of the
NOMMO Literary Society. Salaam established the NOMMO Literary
Society12 in New Orleans in 1995; at the time of the study, the society’s
members met weekly to do a reading, share their writing orally, and
provide feedback to one another. It was a multigenerational writers
collective, and Salaam has provided opportunities for many members
to publish their work in anthologies. On the second Friday of every
month, the NOMMO Literary Society held a public reading at the
Community Book Center, also located in New Orleans. The physical
space of the NOMMO Literary Society had countless shelves of books
written by and about people of African descent throughout the world.
In addition to books, Salaam provided the society with a comprehen-
sive collection of music, including jazz, blues, and other forms of
Black music. All of these materials were available to members of the
society, and tables and chairs were available so that people could
make themselves at home.
Both Datcher and Ballard understood their writing to be part of a
larger continuum of literate and literary practices for people of Afri-
can descent. For example, Ballard saw the NOMMO Literary Society
and the open mics as part of the same tradition as the church and
Black community school she attended. These spaces helped her
develop a writing identity grounded not only in poetry and prose but
music and performance as well. Similarly, Datcher saw his founda-
tion as a poet based in blues and jazz music traditions as a foundation
to writing his memoir. Datcher and Ballard believed that having com-
munity-based role models such as Daáood and Salaam was critical to
their development as writers; these mentors were not only poets and
 Maisha T. Fisher 307

writers but also activists and historians in their communities. Institu-

tions such as the World Stage and the NOMMO Literary Society as
well as the venues in which I observed both Datcher and Ballard were
safe spaces where they could share this work with active audiences
and get critical feedback while building confidence in their writing
and speaking skills.

DISCUSSION

During an interview I conducted as part of the larger study with

scholar and educator Wade Nobles,13 I asked him if he believed that
the readers, writers, speakers, and doers who are visible in the spoken
word poetry venues and bookstore events have come full circle. We
had just attended a reading by Ilyasah Shabazz, the middle daughter
of the late Dr. Betty Shabazz and Malcolm X, at Marcus Books in Oak-
land, California. The reading attracted not only people from Dr.
Shabazz’s and Malcolm X’s generation such as Dr. Nobles but also the
peers of Ilyasah Shabazz. Dr. Nobles explained, “I don’t know if the
circle’s coming back around . . . I think that the song is unfin-
ished . . . it’s still unfolding” (interview, June 16, 2002). Indeed, the
“song is unfinished” and “unfolding” in grassroots literacy commu-
nities, anthologies (see the Appendix), self-published books, and
recordings. However, as the title of Salaam’s (1998) anthology 360°: A
Revolution of Black Poets suggests, there is an acknowledgment that the
up-and-coming writers of African descent are well aware of the poets,
writers, musicians, and performers of the word from past literary
movements. So what is “new” about the new literate and literary, and
what has remained the same? Participants in this recent renaissance
of open mics, writing groups, and published work are determined,
much like their predecessors, to maintain literacy communities in
which they can access reading, writing, discussion, and debates
through poetry, prose, and other forms of expression.
Another similarity is that the venues in which these events are held
often serve multiple functions. For example, the Jahva House Speak
Easy open mic at which I first met and heard Datcher and Ballard was
a café that was transformed into a cultural center in the evening. The
owners of these establishments share their spaces with the commu-
nity and organize events that meet the needs of people of African
descent. As Datcher noted, these businesses were not solely interested
in generating income; they also invested in the “production of Black
308 WRITTEN COMMUNICATION / JULY 2004

creation.” This outreach is an extension of the sense of responsibility

that evolved from the chain letter of instruction, or passing on knowl-
edge and information, in the same spirit as the IBIs of the 1960s and
1970s. Part of passing on knowledge and information for the literate
and literary of African descent was making the word accessible in
print through oral presentation. The Anansi Writers Workshop at the
World Stage and the NOMMO Literary Society incorporated time for
writing, revising, and also sharing work orally; there was an under-
standing that words were not solely for display but to incite action.
There has also been a shift in the makeup of the communities
McHenry and Heath (1994) examined and the current practitioners of
the word. I use the term shift because I view these communities as part
of a continuum that does not lend itself to dichotomizing terms such
as contrast. Current practitioners of the word cut across socioeco-
nomic lines. Ballard considered this to be one of the most important
aspects of the open mic communities:

It’s just a mix of all kinds of us. It’s like people who are educated—for-
mally educated or institutionally educated. Then there are people who
are self-educated . . . just from every class background you can think of.
We are there. . . . Come as you are. (interview, May 14, 2002)

There are other shifts in the continuum of the literate and literary of
African descent; one of the most compelling is that although newer
poets and writers in theory have access to the institutions that the
readers and writers of the 19th century did not, they are still organiz-
ing spaces separate and distinct from formal institutions by choice.
This was also evident during the Black Arts Movement and the rise of
Black community schools. One reason for this may be that despite
“access” to these formal institutions, there is still a pervasive lack of
recognition of new forms of poetry, writing, and thinking about lan-
guage. This quest for supplemental knowledge in addition to alterna-
tive teaching and learning drew Black expressionists to these spaces.
Part of these alternative methods is the inclusion of music; poets and
writers such as Datcher and Ballard understand Black music tradi-
tions such as the blues, jazz, and hip hop to be inspiration for their
writing processes. This is evident in the fact that Ballard can play her
guitar at an open mic, and her work is still considered poetry. The
inclusion of DJs at the open mic events is another example of the
importance of music. Leimert Park’s World Stage is a home to both
 Maisha T. Fisher 309

jazz musicians and poets, while the NOMMO Literary Society has as
many music recordings available to its members as it does books.
Music is simply a part of the fabric of these spaces. And finally, to
some degree, there is still a belief that literacy is linked to freedom;
however, the freedom does not come from acquiring skills often asso-
ciated with literacy or even mastering literary texts. The freedom
now is in the ability to use words and literacy skills to challenge and
critique as well as to motivate and inspire newer generations of read-
ers, writers, and speakers. With a sense of history, novice writers,
readers, and speakers can create their own spaces in this historical
continuum. Teaching literature and literacy for young people should
involve the teaching of history as well as integrate the current move-
ment of expressionists. There is still much work needed that examines
the literacy communities in which people of African descent are
members by choice. Through this inquiry, we can begin to unpack
what it is about these spaces that continuously draw people to partici-
pate while attempting to understand how these events provide an
important context for the way words are valued and shared.

Appendix
Selected Bibliography of Spoken Word Poetry Anthologies

The following anthologies try to show the link between historical literary
movements and current practices in writing, spoken word poetry and hip
hop; this is evident in the inclusion of newer and more established poets and
writers.

Anglesey, Z. (Ed.). (1999). Listen up! Spoken word poetry. New York: Ballantine.
Gilbert, D. (Ed.). (1998). Catch the fire!!! A cross-generational anthology of contemporary
African-American poetry. New York: Riverhead.
Medina, T., Bashir, S. A., & Lansana, Q. A. (Eds.). (2002). Role call: A generational anthology
of social & political Black literature & art. Chicago: Third World.
Medina, T., & Rivera, L. R. (Eds.). (2001). Bum rush the page: A def poetry jam. New York:
Three Rivers.
Nommogeneity. (2000). Pot liquor for writer’s block. Claremont, CA: Ubwenge.
Powell, K. (Ed.). (2000). Step into a world: A global anthology of the new Black literature. New
York: John Wiley.
Powell, K., & Baraka, R. (Eds.). (1992). In the tradition: An anthology of young Black writers.
New York: Harlem River Press.
Reed, I. (Ed.). (2003). From totems to hip hop: A multicultural anthology of poetry across the
Americas, 1900-2002. New York: Thunder’s Mouth.
310 WRITTEN COMMUNICATION / JULY 2004

NOTES

1. This is from Ruth Forman’s poem “A Split Tree Still Grows” in We Are the Young
Magicians, which was part of the Barnard New Woman Poets Series.
2. See Muller and the Blueprint Collective’s (1995) June Jordan’s Poetry for the People:
A Revolutionary Blueprint for a more extensive description of the program.
3. It is important to note that people of African descent have varied perspectives on
the use of Black English. For a more current discussion of this, please see Rickford and
Rickford’s (2000) Spoken Soul: The Story of Black English.
4. Robert C. Morris (1981) offered a comprehensive treatment of the Freedmen’s
Bureau and its role in the education of Blacks in Reading, ‘Riting, and Reconstruction: The
Education of Freedmen in the South 1861-1870.
5. The Caribbean Artists Movement in London coincided with the Black Arts
Movement; also influenced by the Black Power Movement in the United States and
abroad, the Caribbean Artists Movement also blended oral and written traditions. See
Anne Walmsley’s (1992) The Caribbean Artists Movement 1966-1972: A Literary and Cul-
tural History.
6. Third World Press, located in Chicago, celebrated its 35th anniversary in 2002.
7. The Institute for Positive Education was founded in 1970 by group of men and
women in Chicago in an effort to provide services to Chicago’s Black community.
8. See Julius E. Thompson’s (1998) Dudley Randall, Broadside Press, and the Black Arts
Movement in Detroit, 1960-1995.
9. Hoyt Fuller was also the editor of Ebony and Jet magazines, which are still pub-
lished. Historian, poet, and author Kalamu ya Salaam described Hoyt Fuller as “a Black
intellectual with near-encyclopedic knowledge of Black literature and seemingly inex-
haustible contacts” (1997). Negro Digest and Black World were often compared to CRISIS
and OPPORTUNITY of the 1920s. At the time of the aforementioned interview with
Fuller, the journal was monthly, with a circulation of approximately 180,000, reaching
Black people of all class backgrounds and interests.
10. At the time of the study, Datcher informed me that Raising Fences was being
strongly considered for adaptation for a film that would feature actor Will Smith.
11. Nommo is a West African concept that refers to the “sacred word.” See Janheinz
Jahn’s (1961) Muntu: African Culture and the Western World.
12. Prior to meeting Gabrilla, I visited the NOMMO Literary Society and inter-
viewed Salaam as part of my research on participatory literacy communities. He was
very helpful in recommending books as well as venues to experience readings and per-
formances. Salaam continues to teach writing and video production to students in New
Orleans public schools. He coined the term Neo-Griot to describe this newer generation
of writers who tell their stories using video technology.
13. Dr. Nobles is a psychologist and the director of Black Studies at California State
University, San Francisco.

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can American literature. New York: Oxford University Press, Inc.
 Maisha T. Fisher 311

Black and Allied Students Association of New York University. (1971, August/Septem-
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Rickford, J. R., & Rickford, R. J. (2000). Spoken soul: The story of Black English. New York:
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Maisha T. Fisher is an assistant professor in the Division of Educational Studies at

Emory University. She recently completed a postdoctoral research fellowship at Teachers
College, Columbia University, in the Department of International and Transcultural
Studies. Her research interests include sociocultural approaches to literacy learning in
school and out-of-school contexts. She is the author of “Open mics and open minds: Spo-
ken word poetry in African diaspora participatory literacy communities” which
appeared in the Harvard Educational Review’s special issues on popular culture in
2003.