June Jordan (b. 1936)
Contributing Editor:
Agnes Moreland Jackson
Classroom Issues and Strategies
Students of the 1960s and early 1970s (as well as today's college-age
youth) thought about and acted on nonfamilial kinships, that is, relationships
between individuals having agency; groups, personhood in the community,
space or turf--local/national/global; responsibility--private and corporate;
power/powerlessness; most of the "-isms" and phobias of historical
and contemporary societies worldwide. These are some of the recurring subjects
in Jordan's three poems included in The Heath Anthology and throughout
her volumes of poetry and essays. She belongs to the world (though it despises
and rejects her); and her voice of discovery, pain, rage, and resolution
penetrates our minds and emotions. College students, therefore, recognize
her concerns while also wondering sometimes whether Jordan's societal and
world portrait is "as bad" as her texts declare. Even those as
wounded as she describes herself have to think deeply to make the connections,
see the intricate patterns, and analyze situations to determine Jordan's
accuracy or error about social and human conditions. Because the issues
in her poetry reflect our everyday experiences, we can comprehend Jordan's
poetry and note correspondences between and among the following: Jordan's
observations and protestations; daily news about victims of violence whose
lives are affected by political and economic decisions. An invitation to
discuss the poems here could prompt students' own sharing of their personal
experiences (of physical or emotional assault, acceptance or rejection
of opportunity, and reaction to media images, health, and health services).
Moreover, hearing Jordan is crucial to appreciating and understanding
the power of her poetry. Beyond urging my students to read all poetry aloud
(and we read aloud in class), I stress the rich orality of poetic
expression by many African-Americans (from Dunbar
to Hughes and Brown,
from Hayden and Walker
and Brooks to Evans
and Sanchez and Cortez,
as well as Lorde, Knight,
Reed, Clifton,
and Harper), among
whom Jordan is outstanding for the "being-spoken-now" qualities
of her poems. Two of the "talking passages" (describing aptly
the entire 114 lines) in "Poem about My Rights" are its opening
and lines 45 to 49. Reading this poem aloud in a class need not be difficult
in any college for at least two reasons: its personal, intimate, talking-directly-to-you
quality and the generally acknowledged present-day awareness of the twenty-five
percent probability that rape might become real to any woman in the U.S.
Single voices (including those of male students) reading the poem in sequence
diminish possible embarrassment over the sustained and repeated use of
the words "rape," "penetrate," and "ejaculate"
as reality and as metaphor. The poem's insistence upon the equal status
of all oppressions stimulates serious discussion that includes not
only homo- and bisexuality; instead, interest remains for persistent philosophical
quests to engage and understand freedom and responsibility, law and justice,
power and respect, and so on. Students usually agree with the linking of
all oppressions, not withstanding the risk of having to reveal their own
characteristics and/or prejudices. Anglo males, especially, need time and
much reassurance that female peers understand the socially constructed
bases of male behavior deemed to be oppressive, for Jordan denounces hurtful
action, not its causes-- including females complicit in maintaining patriarchal
privilege to oppress.
"To Free Nelson Mandela" has the oral qualities of a ritual
chant. Its repetitions enhance (1) recognition of the many years of Mandela's
imprisonment and--hence--(2) the near miracle of his survival which invokes
urgent and continually growing cosmic demands that he be freed,
and (3) the power and rightness of a wife's loyalty and work --instead
of withdrawal into seclusion (hence, no Penelope is she but a warrior who
has taken up the battle). However protracted, however gross, atrocities
do not dehumanize their victims, nor can horror outlast living "waters
of the world" as they "turn to the softly burning/light of the
moon." Ironically, almost mystically, atrocities eventually cause
oppressed people, however despised, to come together in reaffirmation and
in ritual, including the ceremonies of life to be lived fully before dying.
(Cf. African slaves in the Western world, their understanding of self-worth,
i.e., somebodiness conferred by a believed-in God--despite the ineffable
horrors of bondage.)
Major Themes, Historical Perspectives, and Personal Issues
These three poems reveal the speakers' firm understanding that their
respective experiences (or those witnessed and reported on in "To
Free Nelson Mandela") validate the deduction by the speaker in "Poem
about My Rights" that she and all other oppressed persons, nations,
and peoples are victims because they are viewed by their torturers
to be wrong. Therefore, wrong are the victims enumerated
in lines 7 through 12 in "To Free Nelson Mandela": the "twelve-year-old
girl," "the poet," "the students," "the children."
"[M]urdered Victoria Mxenge" (1.17) was wrong to have been a
lawyer who "defended [B]lacks charged with political crimes"
(The Hollywood Reporter, July 19, 1991), writes the reviewer of
the hit musical "Sarafina," based on the horrors of and spiritual
triumphs over South African apartheid. Martyred in 1985 in the midst of
her daring and skillful work, "Durban human rights lawyer" (Agence
France Presse, June 22, 1993) Mxenge was killed (by the official police,
think most in the world) "the day before she was scheduled to defend
17 . . . [Black activists] on charges of treason" (Los Angeles Times,
August 29, 1991). Her ANC-supporter spouse, Griffiths Mxenge, also a lawyer,
had been murdered in 1981.
These data, only the tip of the iceberg, demonstrate again Jordan's
total immersion in the lives of oppressed people of color wherever they
suffer in the world. Revelations in the 1990s--most carried in newspapers
around the globe--about allegedly police-perpetrated murders in South Africa
during the mid-1980s were not news to Jordan, who in 1989 had published
the Mandela poem among other "new" poems composed between 1985
and 1989. From line 36 through line 57 of "To Free Nelson Mandela,"
Jordan commemorates the beginning-to-heal black township community of Lingelihle
(outside Cradock), where in 1985 (as reported in The Guardian of
August 11, 1992) "[f]rom all over South Africa, tens of thousands
of mourners converged on . . . [the town- ship] . . . for the funeral of
. . . [four Black activists]" including Matthew Goniwe, an "immensely
popular leader" in a " 'backveld revolution' [that had swept]
South Africa" in 1983. Less poetic than Jordan's rendering of Goniwe's
transformational impact on his comrades in suffering is the following very
helpful newspaper explanation of why his death was felt so deeply by so
many:
Son of a domestic servant and a seller of firewood, he had inspired
the community to form a residents' association which demanded urgent reforms
in the dusty, poverty-stricken township. Studious, quiet, small and bespectacled,
Goniwe had raised educational standards, given self-respect to unemployed
young [B]lacks and stopped much of the drinking and pot smoking. Repeatedly
detained and accused of agitating, he remarked, "[Agitation] is not
required when you have apartheid-- the greatest agitator of all."
(The Guardian, 8/11/92)
The journalistic furor in 1992 about events in 1985 was sparked by the
publication in June 1992 of an official, top-secret message "dated
June 7, 1985" that revealed senior officers in South Africa's security
forces to have plotted the murders of Goniwe and three others. On March
9, 1991, the Chicago Tribune had carried a report of Amnesty International's
having cited the death of Victoria Mxenge among other crimes against human
rights.
In her 1976 essay "Declaration of an Independence I Would Just
as Soon Not Have" (in the 1981 collection of essays Civil Wars
published by Beacon Press), in which she remarks on the practical necessity
of folk's uniting and working together to effect changes toward justice,
Jordan writes of the "hunger and . . . famine afflicting some 800
million lives on earth" as "a fact that leaves . . . [one] nauseous,
jumpy, and chronically enraged." She says also that "with all
. . . [her] heart and mind . . . [she] would strive in any way . . . to
eradicate the origins of . . . [the] colossal exploitation and abuse"
experienced by "[t]he multimillion-fold majority of the peoples on
earth [who] are neither white, nor powerful, nor exempt from terrifying
syndromes of disease, hunger, poverty that defies description, and prospects
for worse privation or demeaning subsistence" (115-16; 117). Jordan's
rage at injustices and violations of personhood, as well as her compassion
and empathy, are large and constant, as can be recognized by even a quick
reading of her poetry and essays.
Although not among her most recent poems, "Moving Towards Home"
is as significant as any to be related to Jordan's personal life, a life
informed by her love of black people, a love that anchors her love for,
and work and yearning for, freedom and justice for all oppressed people.
She can relate to, can feel as, can be a Palestinian because the
space, the room for living has become smaller and smaller geographically
and in all other ways that destruction, death, bigotry, and hatred have
crowded out life. "[T]o make our way home" would be to reclaim
life, to reclaim "room" for "living" for ourselves
and oppressed others. (In September, 1993 the Israelis and the Palestinians
took their first steps toward that "way home" for both peoples.)
Significant Form, Style, or Artistic Conventions
Like many contemporary black and other poets of the U.S., Jordan uses
language boldly and fully, not shying away from stereotypically or conventionally
"ugly" words or ideas. Thus, she writes about what is real and
what should not be: all manner of injustice, repression, oppression; diverse
kinds of denial of self-and personhood. "Poem about My Rights"
captures most completely the unbounded range of Jordan's subjects, as well
as the rich juxtaposing and combining of free verse, linearly arranged
sentences, parallelism, unpunctuated parenthetical remarks, repetition,
freely (but not randomly) used virgules or slashes to hold or pull
ideas together. Opening the poem in medias res gives form to Jordan's
repeated thesis that self-determination is precluded by all oppressions
and any oppression--occurring in any order at any age anywhere on
the earth, and perpetrated by nominal friends (e.g., parents, members of
one's own racial, sexual, occupational, and gender group) or recognized
enemies. Jordan makes situational analogies and projections that meld all
aspects of her being into one seamless personal: family; politics--local,
national, worldwide, as well as racial and sexual; geography--general space,
particular places, personified places, urban and rural spaces; history;
esthetics; economics; her body and the bodies of others; sexism, racism,
classism, ageism.
Comparisons, Contrasts, Connections
As is true for her contemporaries Adrienne
Rich and Audre Lorde,
sexuality is a crucial attribute of June Jordan's identity and her premise
for self-expression and interaction with others. These distinguished, radically
iconoclastic writers demand full recognition of the "difference/s."
Lorde emphasizes her blackness, femaleness, lesbianism--in "butch"
and "fem" roles (as I read her essays, particularly), her relatedness
to all other women needing/seeking autonomy of personhood, and the ultimately
fatal possession of her life by cancer. Progressively through her poetry
and essays, Lorde becomes a winner, psychologically triumphant over all
of these popularly acknowledged detractors from fullness of living. Rich
defines herself as female, lesbian, white, southern, and a Jew. Together
with emphatically engaging myriad and worldwide economic, cultural, educational,
and political oppressions (as Jordan does), both Rich and Lorde, respectively
as applicable, recognize and experience (as Jordan does) abuses of power--shaped
usually as sexism, heterosexism, homophobia, racism, anti-Semitism, classism,
and ageism--and "triggered," presumably, by the women's "differences"--however
ageless and normal, immutable, and real. For Jordan add bisexuality, i.e.,
difference with a difference, and she stands out from the others in the
triad. Possessing sexualities, Jordan experiences discrimination among
the less complex or more "normal" lesbians. This experience is
what seems to have clarified her view that any oppression equals all other
oppressions without hierarchical or invidious distinctions. Jordan also
refuses to privilege oppressors who are more "like" her than
some other oppressors might be. Thus, African-Americans and lesbians who
would presume to judge her bisexuality or any attribute or freely chosen,
nonthreatening behavior toward others must be called what they are: tyrants
("A New Politics of Sexuality," Technical Difficulties
90; the entire essay is must reading for any who would try to comprehend
Jordan fully).
Questions for Reading and Discussion/Approaches to Writing
The following are suggestions for class enjoyment of reading/thinking
aloud about Jordan's "Moving Towards Home": (1) Do students detect
any slowing down, possibly an emphasis at lines 35, 37, and in lines where
the persona quotes other people's voices? (2) Does it matter that readers
might not/probably do not know the actual speakers? That the quoted passages
might be/might not be historical? (3) Ask students to consider structure,
meaning, and context by noting differences between the quoted passages
and lines 47, 48, 49; (4) The importance of reading aloud and carefully
can be stressed by discussing the difference between ". . . those
who dare" in lines 35, 39, 41 and "those who dare" in line
46; (5) Visual interest enhances that of sound as readers notice that "speak
about" in the poem's first thirty-one lines all line up/stack up,
one above the next succeeding instance, that "about unspeakable events"
breaks this pattern spatially as well as linguistically in the reversed
order of the main words, and in the negativizing of "speak" by
use of the prefix un. All events that the persona does "not
wish to speak about" are spoken with chilling effect; about
from line 53 to the end precedes home & living room; home envelopes
living room.
Bibliography
Arnold Adoff's 1973 anthology The Poetry of Black America includes
four outstanding Jordan poems, while Erlene Stetson in Black Sister
(1981) contains only one by Jordan (a must, however, about Native Americans)
but six by Lorde, seven by Jayne Cortez, and three by Sanchez.