Month: September 2023

Birthday Open Mic Afterword

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This is from a while ago, but it gives an idea of LadyVee’s voice and persona. I couldn’t find anything more recent.

I can’t close without paying tribute to LadyVee, who is an amazing person. Besides being a gifted spoken-word poet, she is a host who seems unflappable, and she has used her talents to promote Black poetry and music, along with mutual support among the artists who attend Art Out Loud Atlanta gatherings.

Along the way, she became a wife and mother. I have started her book, Eff the Pandemic . . . Let’s Have a Baby!! The True Story of D.J. Voltaire, and I was immediately engrossed. The book chronicles her transformation from a woman who had never thought motherhood was for her to a woman dedicated to accepting her responsibilities to her frighteningly vulnerable young son with grace and determination. The story is told in essays, poems, and adorable photographs. All are unflinchingly honest, and the physical details in the writing convey the fragile, yet intense, bonds between mothers and their children. From “Poem 11: When He’s Sleeping”: “This small, baby body that grows an inch or two / Each day in my arms / Was being cradled to bed / Softly and gently….”

I left the event enriched by the memories, the books, and the invitations to return and to explore other Atlanta open mics. I did not have a recording of my performance because my husband is not good with technology, and I didn’t want to disrupt the evening. But I did come away pondering a few ideas. First, I thought, as I often do, about the vitality open mics of all kinds make me feel, the way they seem to be nurseries for the development of voices unfiltered and unfettered by academic prescriptions, and the way different cultures can speak to one another in these events. I also reflected on the unfailing graciousness of Black people in many contexts and on many occasions and despite the horrific racist violence that has been and continues to be inflicted on them in our country and around the world. Then I thought of how, when mainstream media speaks of “healing the country” these days, the emphasis seems to be on white liberals forgiving white nationalists. It seems to me our energies could be better employed.

Birthday Open Mic–The Thrilling Conclusion

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The featured poet of the evening: Strong Humble Friend.

I signed up to go after the break and after the featured artist. I wanted to have time to read the room. Even at online mics, I try to find threads among the contributions that certain pieces I have relate to. When themes emerge and develop spontaneously, I find I have the best listening experience. It is harder to pay sustained attention and retain strong memories of the poems if they seem to be coming at me from all directions. Successfully adding to a train of thought communally sparked in an open mic is also the best reading experience for me. The audience is primed to consider the subject matter by the earlier pieces, and if I can intrigue or surprise them with my take, they are supportive. Pretty sure I am not the only writer who needs this, since so much of what we do is rejected and ignored.

In the situation at this open mic, this seemed both more necessary and more difficult. I wanted to be a good guest and not read things that were all about me and my preoccupations. But although most of the others’ pieces were personal, they relied on a shared cultural history I don’t exactly share. Although I do voice concerns about oppression of African Americans in my poetry, these obviously aren’t about my personal experience with oppression, and the strongest of them might, in this context, make me sound as if I were forcing a connection or worse, lecturing Black people about their own experience like a Karen. As for my personal pieces, these often reveal my privilege, which would be rude in a context where people regularly referenced serious struggles I have never had to confront. Although I managed to compliment my neighbor, Sana, on her performance in the break and get a surprise hug in return, I spent most of my time cobbling together a set that would fit in the three- to five-minute time limit and build a bridge between me and my audience.

I began by briefly explaining how I came to be at this event and honestly complimenting the performers. They appreciated that, and they continued to respond warmly to my poems: my reaction to the “BREATHE” graffiti message (alluding to George Floyd’s murder) in “Kayaking on Lady Bird Lake,” my love for my husband (in the audience) in “When You’re Away,” my rhyming reflections on sublimity in a recent ghazal, “Sublime is Out,” and my aspirational poem, “Mercy,” about overcoming grudges. Their approval made me realize how much these last two poems, though not Christian, resonate with the Christian themes in their work. The young hip-hop performer’s high five when I stepped down meant a lot, as did Sana’s. Unfortunately, I had missed the memo that there was a piece limit (one) as well as a time limit, so I did feel a bit Karen-ish after all, but as host LadyVee DaPoet graciously said, “At least I didn’t have to dim the lights.”

I find this is getting to be long, so I will save a few reflections and a performance by LadyVee for one final post. Thank you for reading.

Birthday Open Mic, Part II

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Here are two of the performances at the open mic I went to. Although I enjoyed both of these, this is in no way a judgment on any of the other performers. These were just the two people whose information I got afterwards and who had stuff up on social media that I could share. There were other types of artists, too: a gay comedian, several different kinds of singers, and, accompanying all and occasionally accentuating performances with an air horn, DJ Pough. I was impressed by an older man who had DJ Pough lay down beats and then improvised songs to them on the spot, as the spirit moved him. Our hostess, LadyVee DaPoet, was also an accomplished poet and performer. I will post some of her work later, but I especially liked the sensual piece she opened the show with.

Jesus was referenced quite a lot, but always in testimonies that emphasized the speaker’s personal relationship to God. I didn’t feel I was being pressured to believe what they believed, but that they were revealing a deeply important part of themselves. I appreciated their doing this and respect their beliefs.

@cremedelasana

Here is the full version of my spoken word poem Heartcrack! 💔 Hope you enjoy!!🫶🏽 #spokenwordpoetry #poetry #blackgirl #love #fyp

♬ Promise – laufey
She’s an accomplished performer and is starting a podcast.
He was one of the most forthright in addressing violence and oppression against Black people. I got his books, but haven’t started them yet.

There was one person there besides my husband and me who looked white, and he read his poetry, which had a lot going on, with a strong Boston accent. He said he was new to Atlanta and was having trouble making friends. He may have been an outsider, but he had a Latin name, so I still felt my husband and I were the strangest strangers there.

Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion, in which I tell about my reading (no recording was made–I’ll explain why), go more in depth about LadyVee’s work, and reflect on this open mic experience.

Birthday Open Mic

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Birthday rum cake from City Cafe & Bakery. Taken by me.

Saturday, I decided to celebrate my birthday by attending my first live open mic. It was in the Black Westview neighborhood of Atlanta, and I knew I would stick out a little, but my experiences with open mics online encouraged me.

When my husband and I pulled up at the street where we planned to have supper and go to the venue, it looked a little sketchy, but when we turned onto a side street to park, it looked like the middle-class neighborhoods in Atlanta (for example, Old Fourth Ward) that I walk around while my bow is being rehaired.

Just as we were starting to feel comfortable, we confronted a small cardboard sign on the door of Firewall Atlanta, where we had planned to have supper, saying it would be closed this week. There was not enough time to eat anywhere very far away, and the Slutty Vegan would not do, as my husband believes dinner must have meat.

Luckily there was a nice café next door. I had a veggie bowl (it was very early for dinner because of the time change), and my husband had chicken & waffles, which looked good, though it is a dish that combines two things that don’t seem to me to go together. The cocktails–an old fashioned for me and a peach punch thing for Don–were also tasty, and the service was friendly, with a warmth I haven’t found in Mid-Town or Buckhead.

The venue, Westview Maker Space, was right next door to the café, further down from Firewall. It had small shops selling African-style crafts in the front and studios where these were made along one wall. In the middle were folding chairs, with more comfy seating and some benches along the walls and at the back. In the front was the stage, with a DJ lectern in the far corner, a mic in front, and three drapes in red, black, and green making a Pan-African flag backdrop.

Feeling self-conscious, but determined, I signed up for the open mic with our hostess, LadyVee DaPoet , whose husband, Allen Pough, was laying down some beats at the DJ lectern, while their son, D. J. Voltaire, scrambled around and danced a little, clearly excited to be there. From the graphics and pictures on the ads for the open mic, and from her stage name, I had expected LadyVee to have a larger-than-life persona, but she was reassuringly quiet and down-to-earth. We took seats in the middle, toward the back, and the room began to fill up.

to be continued . . .