Episode 598
with Tracy K. Smith, Saeed Jones, and Meklit
In this Black History Month special episode, former U.S. Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith discusses her memoir To Free the Captives, which looks to uncover Black strength, continuance, and community by looking back at her own family’s history; poet Saeed Jones (Alive at the End of the World) unpacks the backstories behind some of his poems involving Billie Holiday, Maya Angelou, and Luther Vandross; and Ethio-Jazz musician Meklit performs the song, “I Want to Sing for Them All” as a tribute to her musical influences.
Tracy K. Smith
22nd Poet Laureate and Pulitzer Prize-winning author
Tracy K. Smith is a poet, memoirist, librettist, translator, and Professor of English and African and African American Studies at Harvard University. She’s the author of five acclaimed poetry collections, including Life on Mars, which was awarded the Pulitzer Prize. Her memoir, Ordinary Light, was a finalist for the National Book Award. From 2017 to 2019, she served as the twenty-second Poet Laureate of the United States, during which she spearheaded American Conversations: Celebrating Poems in Rural Communities with the Library of Congress, created the American Public Media podcast The Slowdown, and edited the anthology American Journal: Fifty Poems for Our Time. In her new memoir, To Free the Captives: A Plea for the American Soul Tracy aims to understand the future of Black community and strength by going backwards and investigating her own family’s story. Website • Instagram
Saeed Jones
Poet and author
Award-winning American poet Saeed Jones is back with Alive at the End of the World, a brand new poetry collection from Coffee House Press. He is the winner of the 2019 Kirkus Prize for Nonfiction for his memoir How We Fight For Our Lives and the 2015 PEN/Joyce Osterweil Award for Poetry for his poetry collection Prelude to Bruises. His work has also appeared in The New York Times, the New Yorker, and GQ magazine among many others. When he’s not writing, he’s co-hosting Vibe Check, a weekly podcast with Sam Sanders and Zach Stafford, where they make sense of what’s going on in news and culture – and how it all feels. Originally from Memphis Tennessee, he now crafts his work about the complicated affair of being alive from Columbus, Ohio. Website • Twitter • Instagram
Meklit
Ethio-jazz singer- songwriter
Meklit Hadero, an Ethio-American vocalist, mixes the sounds of East Africa and the Bay Area so smoothly Silicon Valley should use her process to make a super blender. Her latest album When the People Move, the Music Moves Too was called “...compelling and wholly her own” by Afropop. A singer-songwriter with a love of collaboration, she’s also a TED Senior Fellow whose talk “The Unexpected Beauty of Everyday Sounds” has been viewed over 1.2 million times. Meklit is also the host of the podcast Movement where she tells stories of global migration through music. Get ready to get down with Meklit. Website • Twitter • Instagram
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Luke Burbank: Hey there. Elena.
Elena Passarello: Hey, Luke. How's it going?
Luke Burbank: It's going great. Are you ready for a little Station Location Identification Examination?
Elena Passarello: Yes, sir.
Luke Burbank: All right. This is the part of the show where I quiz Elena on. Somewhere in the country. Where? On the radio. She's got to figure out where I am talking about. This city was the setting for two significant events in the civil rights movement. This is our Black History Month special this week. In February 1961, nine black men staged a sit in at the segregated McCrory's five and dime lunch counter. And then later in 1961, the city was the first stop for a group of 13 Freedom Riders who boarded busses in DC and headed south to test the Supreme Court ruling outlawing racial segregation on all interstate public facilities. Yes, and I'll give you a hint. It's a state that I think you know, dear. And.
Elena Passarello: Well, yes, right off of highway 77, I believe, Rock Hill, South Carolina.
Luke Burbank: Yes, exactly. Rock Hill, South Carolina, which is on the other side of the state line, but not super far, I'm told, from Charlotte, North Carolina, where we're on WNSC. FM. So nice pull, Elena. All right, you ready to get to the show?
Elena Passarello: Let's do it.
Luke Burbank: All right. Take it away.
Elena Passarello: From PRX, It's Live Wire. This week, author Tracy K. Smith.
Tracy K. Smith: In the American Imagination, there's a group of people who will always be free. And for the rest of us, people who descend from histories of violence or colonization or other forms of oppression, we are freed.
Elena Passarello: And writer and poet Saeed Jones.
Saeed Jones: In the Green Room. This is what Maya Angelou said. Billie Holiday told her, you're going to be famous, but it won't be for singing.
Elena Passarello: With music from Meklit. I'm your announcer, Elaina Passaro, and now the host of Live Wire, Luke Burbank.
Luke Burbank: Thank you very much, Elena. Thanks to everyone tuning in this week from all over the country. Have a special edition of the show. We are celebrating Black History Month on this episode, so we are going to sort of break format a little bit because we have some amazing guests and we don't want to dilly dally, we want to get right to them. So let's talk about our first guest, as she's a librettist, translator and the author of five acclaimed poetry collections, including the Pulitzer Prize winning Life on Mars. Her memoir, Ordinary Light, was a finalist for the National Book Award, and she was also, side note, the 22nd Poet Laureate of the United States. No big deal. Her latest book is To Free the Captives A plea for the American Soul. This is a conversation with Tracy K Smith, who joined us on stage at the Alberta Rose Theater in Portland, Oregon. Tracy, welcome to the show.
Tracy K. Smith: Thank you.
Luke Burbank: Thank you so much for being here. I've been a huge fan of yours for a long time. And, one of the things that jumped out to me about this new book is the kind of one of the central ideas, I think, which is the difference between being a person being free, or a person being freed. Can you kind of explain that?
Tracy K. Smith: I felt really shocked when this dawned on me as I was thinking about history, thinking about the archive, and I realized that in the American imagination, there's a group of people who we imagine have always been and will always be free, and it's attached to whiteness in many ways. And for the rest of us, people who descend from histories of violence or colonization or other forms of oppression, we are freed. And what I realize that means is there's kind of a border, the point past which we can't really expect certain possibilities, opportunities, or even forms of regard. It's it's frightening. But I think it's something that maybe we should start talking about.
Luke Burbank: In the book, you say that you get a warm rush of feeling in your chest when you think of Sunflower, Alabama. What is Sunflower, Alabama mean to you?
Tracy K. Smith: Well, first of all, it's such a beautiful name.
Luke Burbank: I know I'd never heard of it before the book. And now I get a warm rush.
Tracy K. Smith: Yeah thinking about it—
Luke Burbank: What a great town.
Tracy K. Smith: That's the small town, outside of mobile, where my father grew up. And it was a place where generations of his family had made their home and a rural community. My father's people were farmers, and I visited sunflower just once or twice. Growing up and what I always remembered, although the generations of his family were gone, the little one room post office, I think it is. You can look it up on the internet. I don't know if it's actually still there, but just like this little white clapboard building with sunflower and the zip code. But it just reminds me of, the black love and care and creativity, with which his family and he found ways to thrive in a, in a world, in a state, in a system of segregation that was really designed to impede that for for black people.
Luke Burbank: Yeah. The photographs in this book are just so incredible. Throughout, but particularly the ones of your I think it would be your grandfather and your great uncles, like fighting in World War one. And these men are so kind of put together and so patriotic in what they're doing and are going to come back to a country when they come back from Europe that is going to treat them as second class people. Did you have these photographs in your family? Were they kicking around like where'd you get them? They're a big part of the book too.
Tracy K. Smith: It was helpful for me to look at images of of soldiers from my grandfather's time. And it wasn't until the book was really finished that a cousin of mine shared this photograph of my grandfather from World War One. It's very worn. But it was wonderful to be able to actually place him in their midst. But originally, I just really wanted to get a sense of the texture of history and maybe read the feelings, the expressions, the body language of of these young men who, some volunteered, some were drafted to defend freedom and democracy abroad, and many of them did so, believing that they might also chip away at the second class citizenship that, characterized their lives here. And I think the crushing reality was that was not the case.
Luke Burbank: You say that these are men who almost couldn't be contained by a photograph. What do you mean by that?
Tracy K. Smith: I think that's true of all of us. But, you know, looking at for me, sometimes I forget that the historical archive is full of, you know, stories of people whose lives were robust and vivid and that life force is still present. Sometimes it's in the their voices in letters, and sometimes it's just in the sense of, feeling. And I don't know, like possibility that you can read in those still images. And it was really helpful to remind myself and maybe also encourage the readers to say, no, life can be contained in a photograph. Every life will spill beyond the borders, but it can give us a glimmer of of the much that is there.
Luke Burbank: Yeah. You, tell a story about your parents on their honeymoon, and they've gone to great lengths to make sure that they could find a hotel that would allow them to stay there as black Americans. And even though they had done all their due diligence, they're still turned away. And you write a line, the punch always lands. Can you kind of describe that?
Tracy K. Smith: I don't think there were people for whom the blow of that sense of. Domination disappeared. You know the feeling that even though you expect it. It still hurts. It still perhaps surprises you a little bit, and it still makes its point. And I realized that's a big part of the intention of Jim Crow and segregation. And I guess there are other forms of of that. That we still live with. But part of the insidious nature of segregation is that it's something you don't get used to. It's something that can take the wind out of you each time. And I also believe another feature of that is that it's labor and effort, even for the people who believe themselves to be free or at the top of the, racial hierarchy. They're exerting a tremendous effort to try and reinforce and defend what they believe is rightfully theirs. And it's such an awful waste of of spirit and energy. And we we see forms of that still.
Luke Burbank: Yeah, sure. Isn't it? Isn't it weird to think about your parents when they were younger than you are now? I feel like this book is a real journey for you of thinking about your parents at the time when they were kids, basically. What was that like for you to just kind of like, think about their lives? Not as my parents or my dad, who's, you know, was in the Air Force and was making you like, you know, clean your floor with the toothbrush and stuff. But like, he was a 20 something year old guy, you know, living his life.
Tracy K. Smith: It's just my heart, like, ached. I, tell a story about my dad after he graduated from high school and he, you know, decided he was going to go to Detroit and try and get a job, maybe in the auto industry. And he was 18, and he got up there and many doors were closing. The opportunities didn't arrive. And I just think about this young, this child really trying to figure out who he is allowed to become, and also thinking about the sense of duty or obligation that might have kept some of the other wishes or expectations. My mother was in college at the same time, but I think my father, and some of the circumstances in his family felt bound to start earning a living and maybe contributing. I work with students who are, you know, his age and older, and, I don't know, it broke my heart to think that I couldn't be there and say, you can. You can do whatever you put your mind to. Which is what my father and mother always said to me when I was growing up.
Luke Burbank: Well, that seems to be something else that's revealed in the book is maybe a newfound awareness for you as a daughter of what your dad and mom were going through. I mean, you find these letters that your dad had written, you know, to the Air Force when there was some issue over, he moved too much furniture to heavy base to base. And, I mean, you know, your father was obviously tremendously smart. He worked on the Hubble telescope, but then was told he was not going to have his contract renewed or was not going to get more government work because he didn't have a quote unquote, high enough level of education. Meanwhile, your brothers in medical school at this point and like, you're about to go to Harvard. Yeah. And so your dad is, is is living that version of his life to make your life possible, you know, because that was that something you were fully aware of before you started on this book?
Tracy K. Smith: Absolutely not. When my siblings and I sold the house that we grew up in, I was the one who inherited all these boxes of papers and records and some military, you know, medals and things. And I moved to Boston a couple of years ago, and that was the first time that I opened up those boxes and went through all of the documents, and I kind of felt like my father was guiding me from, you know, envelope to envelope, telling me this true story, which was he had a big family and he was working and, you know, one of the most hierarchical institutions in America. And, was constrained, you know, and there was this moment, like you said, where he got this bill from the federal government saying, you owe us $1,030 for over shipment of household goods. And I just when I read that, I knew that he felt accused of stealing or lying. And I also knew that, you know, he was an honest man and we were a big family. And so I found these, sheets where he was adding up income and expenses, trying to figure out, could I, could he afford to pay this off? And then drafts of the letter that he wrote to the government saying, you know, I am a career airman. I moved, from Virginia to California. And, you know, I had to buy a house on the open market. And, just making this case.
Luke Burbank: This is Live Wire from PRX. We are celebrating Black History Month this week on the show and listening to a conversation with Tracy K .Smith, the author and former Poet Laureate of the U.S. we have take a quick break, but when we come back, Tracy will be reading from her new book To Free the Captives: A plea for the American Soul. And you don't want to miss it. So stay with us here on lifeline. Welcome back to Live Wire from. I'm your host, Luke Burbank, here with Elena Passarello. We are celebrating Black History Month this week on the show, and we're talking to Tracy K Smith, the Pulitzer Prize winning poet and former poet laureate of the United States. Tracy joined us on stage at the Alberta Rose Theater in Portland, Oregon, to talk about her latest book, To Free the Captives: A plea for the American Soul, which is sort of a personal manifesto which also weaves in her own family history with broader themes of black strength and community. We're going to pick that conversation up now. This is Tracy K. Smith here on Live Wire. Could you read a little bit from the book, actually?
Tracy K. Smith: In 1987, after my father is denied U.S. Department of Defense employment due to his lack of education, just as he begins to slump under the fear that he's exhausted all options, he accepts a job with American Airlines as an aircraft technician. In the last chapter of his career, at age 52, with a son in medical school and a daughter dreaming of college, my father returns to square one. He becomes an airman again. If there is a part of him that is anything other than relieved. If this job is in any way a blow to his pride, I feel like the spoiled child. I must always have been even to wonder such a thing. It is my mother who consoles him. She teaches him to see himself correctly. He is brilliant, hardworking and wise. He's provided diligently, lovingly for five children. And look what all they've done. She's proud of him. She feels lucky. She reminds him of something from their early life together. How they saved their honeymoon from the clerk at that Jim Crow hotel, how she'd do it all over again from that day forward from earlier. Still, when she says this, the souls of everyone they love are suddenly there in the room with them. I believe there is something else we summon in our coming together, a source of succor and presence that further attests to what waits. And soon. I hear it in between the words of old gospel hymns like we'll understand it better by and by. I hear it in the places where times shifting, nature bolstered and deepened by grief, peaks through. We are more than we are many. We minister forward and back to ourselves across an inexplicable divide. It is evidence of some unnamed law, a clause we have not been taught, but which nevertheless, on occasion can be seen to apply. By and by when the morning comes. When the saints of God are gathered home. We'll tell the story how we've overcome. For we'll understand it better by and by. We abide in an ever unfolding. Soon we are not overcome. We shall overcome. We will understand it better by and by.
Luke Burbank: That's Tracy K. Smith, reading from her new book To Free the Captives. Sadly, both of your parents have passed. But you write in the book that when you want to talk to your mom, you have to go through God. But when you want to talk to your dad, you can just kind of talk to him and see him somewhere. What's that about?
Tracy K. Smith: What's that about? Well, you know, I grew up in a religious family, and I think my mother, had a very clear sense that it was God that we were talking to, and it was heaven to which we would return after death. And we were forbidden from, like, messing around with Ouija boards or playing, you know, with ghosts, because she felt those things were real and they could lead us astray. And so when she died, I felt obedient. I was like, I, I miss her, but I'm just going to, you know, direct my thoughts toward where she told me she would be. But then after my dad died, he just seemed to be so sociable. I would see, you know, I felt like he was there, tapping my shoulder. Look, look at that bird. Or, you know, like, isn't this interesting? Or even. Actually, I was working on, my book, Life on Mars, which is an elegy for him in many ways. And I was writing all these poems about the, you know, future and about space and even thinking about some of the images from the Hubble telescope. But I had forgotten that for about six years during my childhood, he worked on that project, and there was a moment where I feel like he kind of woke me up. He was like, come on, remember those company picnics that we went to? And suddenly I was like, oh, right here he has yet again. And I love that. I feel that connection that spans, you know, this side of the mortal divide. And that one is something that allows for, I don't know, communication, certainly love. But also I think guidance. And in a lot of ways, I feel like this book was about trying to open that dialog up even further with my dad, and even with some of his family members who died before I was born. I believe they are still engaged in the ongoing project of liberation, and I think they're here to help us complete this work.
Elena Passarello: Wow.
Luke Burbank: Yeah, yeah. Also, I notice that you capitalize the word God. Yeah. In the book. Was that an intentional choice? Well.
Tracy K. Smith: It wasn't an accident. I mean, it's it's part of that, reverence, I think that I grew up with and also as a kid, I used to, I liked reading the King James Bible. I think a lot of writers love the cadence of that text. And so I liked the formality of those capital letters to signify, you know, grandeur, mystery. I think it's really related in some ways to the irregularities of grammar or even capitalization that live in poetry or that can live in poetry. So I do, I do that, I think, okay, there's this big figure, a source. And I like to imagine that maybe if I use that capital letter, it will come consent to come a little bit nearer and, and, nudge me from time to time.
Luke Burbank: Something else. This book kind of feels like it's kind of got three parts to it. You know, there's this history of your family. There's the memoir aspect of your life, and then there's a kind of, conversation around, like, blackness in America. And one thing I didn't realize was going to be in there is you talking about your sobriety, and you had a line in there that just knocked me over. And I think it was some of the effect of we we think that we're only going to feel joy through pleasure, and that getting past that idea for you was part of understanding how to be a sober person.
Tracy K. Smith: Yeah, I after I had three young kids, I went through a period of intense grief for the young person that I remembered being and the freedom.
Luke Burbank: I think that that's a knowing titter from the audience. People with children.
Tracy K. Smith: And I found that I was drinking more and more doggedly, when that feeling was upon me, and it was upon me more and more, and I wish that I can say I made the decision to stop drinking at a certain point when I realized what was happening. But I remember for a long time saying, one day, maybe I'll be one of those people. But there came a moment when I feel like there was like a divine intervention where I said, I really want I want an old fashioned. And I made one. And I took a sip and it just tasted awful. I did it again. The same thing happened. I poured a glass of wine, and it just dawned on me that this was never going to feel right. It was never going to do what I wanted it to do, because that wasn't perhaps what I needed to be doing.
Luke Burbank: You know who that was? Capital G, God.
Tracy K. Smith: Yeah. Yeah. G-O-D.
Luke Burbank: My family would say I also grew up with the church. Do you feel hopeful that we can arrive at a place where the the freed are actually free? And what do you think needs to happen?
Tracy K. Smith: Well, I have kids, and so I really need to be hopeful. Part of sobriety for me is realizing that it's not a burden to accept accountability. It's actually, you know, it could be this wonderful form of, I don't know, liberation to say what I have, meager as it may be, will grow larger if I can commit to it and even share it, pass it on to others. And I feel like the dilemma that we're in the midst of now, that has to do with the ways we do or don't consent to regard one another. I think it's something that we can become large enough to confront or to admit that we're accountable within. I think a big part of that has to do with those who might believe themselves to be the freest, the most powerful. Those at the top of all the many hierarchies that we invest in in our culture, for them to realize they're equally bound in a system that makes them smaller than they could be. And I'm, you know, I want to be helpful to that project.
Luke Burbank: Yeah. Well, this book is really incredible. Tracy K. Smith, it's To Free the Captives. Here on Live Wire. Thank you so much. That was Tracy K. Smith right here on Live Wire. Her latest book, To Free the Captives: A plea for the American Soul, is out right now. Sometimes checking your email. Let's be honest, can be a little stressful, but we want to change that over here at live where we want to make checking your email more joyful. With our weekly newsletter, which is only good news, that's all we do over here at the Live Wire newsletter. We got sneak peeks and deep dives on upcoming events. Details on where you can join us live. New episode drops and even more than that, getting this drop a joy. It's super easy to head over to Live Wire Radio Dot Org, and you click keep in Touch. It takes like 30s 25 if you're speedy, so help us help you have a little more fun in your inbox with the latest from the Live Wire newsletter. Welcome back to Live Wire from PRX. I'm Luke Burbank here with Elena Passarello. So our next guest's work has appeared in The New York Times, The New Yorker, and GQ magazine, among many other places. His really incredible memoir, How We Fight for Our Lives, was the recipient of the 2019 Kirkus Prize for nonfiction, and the US Poet Laureate. Ada Limon has called his latest collection alive at the end of the world, a serious argument for community and the rebellion of joy. This is our conversation with Saeed Jones recorded in 2022. Said, welcome back to the show.
Saeed Jones: Hi, honey. How are you?
Luke Burbank: So good to see you. The last time we talked. You were at your home in Columbus, and you had just gotten a dog named Caesar. Yes. And it was during the pandemic, and we were literally looking for anyone we could talk to. And we saw on, like, I don't know, the internet that you had gotten a dog. And we said, that sounds like 20 minutes of radio. Yeah.
Saeed Jones: Month one, month one of lockdown. You're like, do you have other? Yes, I have time. Are you kidding me? What do you need me? What are we gonna talk? We talk about anything. Show the dog? Okay, I'll bring the dog.
Luke Burbank: Yes, it was good. Thank you for your being generous with your time. Now, your new book, alive at the end of the world. You have a line in it where you. You say, did I just trick myself into writing another memoir? Right. We had you on for how we fight for our lives. Your memoir about your life and your mother and everything is this book of poetry something where you also accidentally wrote another memoir?
Saeed Jones: I think I did trick myself. Yeah, I think so. I mean, I write poetry collections, one poem at a time. And so I'm just kind of focused on, you know, these very, to me, minor kind of moments of deep humanity. But yeah, when you begin to step back and you're like 20 poems, 30 poems and everything, it is a bit surprising. And, I think I, had a lot more clearly to unpack.
Luke Burbank: Sure. Yeah. I mean, in reading this, this book, it it really struck me as a person who was working through a lot of pain, including the section where you're annoyed at an audience member who asks you basically the question I just asked you.
Saeed Jones: I like to get right to it. You know, the secret is make straight white men nervous from the jump. Yeah, just nipping at the butt, honey. Uh-huh, getting stressed there. Fix your posture.
Unidentified: [Laughter]
Saeed Jones: I can't even remember what we're talking about, I was just so excited to get to—
Luke Burbank: I mean— I mean, where's this business?
Saeed Jones: I saw an opening, and.
Luke Burbank: I guess my, I guess my real question is, was it cathartic for you to write about these things in the book, or was it retraumatizing?
Saeed Jones: It was not retraumatizing I don't find writing, I don't know, I mean, I, I've never found it to be, traumatic. I don't know, I mean, it's too hard. It's too much of a craft, too much joy. It's our our engine. So how could that hurt me? It's kind of how I feel. I think it was cathartic, though, in the sense that. Well, one, you know, I don't know if you know, but the world is ending.
Luke Burbank: Yeah.
Saeed Jones: So I felt thinking about dystopia and the apocalypse. I mean, there's an entire genre of not just literature. It's like culture in every form about the dystopian, what happens and, but who who's entrusted to be the hero or the historian in those stories. It's a pretty narrow aperture. And I was like, well, why not? Why can't that person that we entrust that the history and the perspective of, like, here's what's going down, here's what we need to pack up and carry and here's what we need to leave to poison. Why can't that person be a black queer person who's who's grieving? Why not?
Luke Burbank: Yeah. We're talking to, say, Jones about his latest collection of poetry. It's called alive at the end of the world. Can we, can we hear a poem from the book?
Saeed Jones: Sure, sure. Yeah. So. So, I guess for a little. And in addition to. Yeah, you're right. Tricking myself into writing another memoir. I my mother, Carrol Sweet Jones, died of heart disease, just over a decade ago. And so it was, like, right in the middle of last year was the ten year anniversary, of her passing. Right. So in the depths of this pandemic, you know, and, you know, all the details, y'all were there. But we are there, right? I was thinking about that because, of course, when you're grieving, I mean, it's it's an ongoing relationship. It's not the end. It's the beginning of a new phase in your relationship with who you miss, right? And, you know, you often think like, I wish they were here. God, I wish I could tell them, like, how much fun I had or whatever. But the thing is, in the middle of the pandemic, I was like, okay, well, your mother died of heart disease, which disproportionately kills black women in this country. It's like if if it's not like, giving birth in this country, it's heart disease for black women. Statistically, it's horrifying. And she worked in an airport in Atlanta, in the state of Georgia. So I was like, you sure you want to bring her back for this? You know, like so. So I think with this book, I was thinking so much about the afterlife of grief. That's what I've come to call it. And, this poems about that afterlife vibe.
Saeed Jones: A Stranger. I wonder if my dead mother still thinks of me. I know. I don't know her new name. I don't know her. Not now. I don't know if horror is the word. Burning in a stranger's mind. When he sees my dead mother walking down the street in her bright black dress. I wonder if he inhales the cigaret smoke that will eventually kill him and thinks. I wish I knew a woman who was both the light and every shadow. The light pierces. I wonder if a passing glance at my dad and mother is enough to make a poet out of anyone. I wonder if I'm the song she hums. As she waits for the light to change.
Luke Burbank: Yeah. Thank you. Saeed Jones, reading from Alive at the End of the World. You have a line. It's actually kind of in the sort of after notes of this book that just absolutely floored me. You wrote you don't get to decide when an experience is done with you through. That's intense.
Saeed Jones: Learn it now. And also a lot of. Right. But it's true, right? I mean, I think my theory is it has something to do with capitalism, honestly. The ethos of American capitalism is that move on, get up, because you got to get back to work, right? Grief, depression, gender journeys. You know, all of these, you know, candor, intelligence, you know, is deeply inconvenient for capitalism, right? You know, so we really have this ethos, right, built into us, like, move on, pick it up. And so I think, yeah, it's like, you know, you feel the pressure. No one has to say it to you. Right? I think America is really good at like teaching us how to bully ourselves. You know. But no it's not up to you you know, when, when do you get to stop crying. And then that manifests in the poem. It's like it's not up to me when I get to stop crying. Right. Like yeah. And I think that's true. I mean, you all kinds of relationships, breakups, even jobs, you know, I've had an experience where I had a job and I left and years later I was like, still mad at a boss I hadn't spoken to. And yet, you know what it's like, you know? And so I wanted to I think grief, like queerness has opened me up to understanding so much of so many aspects of humanity. It's the most, you know, grieving of being queer, I think, are two of the most humanizing experiences of my life. And and so, yeah, I found I found power in acknowledging that perhaps I'm still enthralled to a dynamic that I would very much like to move on from or claim a sense of power in relation to. But like, maybe, maybe I'm less in control than I thought. Which is like, did I just trick myself? Yeah.
Luke Burbank: There is a poem in this book with the title performing as Miss Calypso. Maya Angelou dances whenever she forgets the lyrics, which Billie Holiday, seated in the audience finds annoying. Is any part of that a real thing that happens?
Saeed Jones: Yes. Maya. Maya Angelou, doctor Maya Angelou, wrote it. It. I can't remember the title, but it's in one of her memoirs, one of her remarks, she wrote about it several decades later. But yeah, yeah, my answer is just like a fascinating figure. And I tell people, I think, you know, I appear in the book A Lot of ghosts. And then also a lot of, black kind of cultural icons Little Richard, Diahann Carroll, Toni Morrison, Paul Mooney of the prominent. But but Maya, I tell people, is, I think, arguably the happiest person in the poem because she's just like, we'll do it. Like she. At that point in her life, she was performing, with under the stage name Miss Calypso in the Bay area. Not a very good singer, but a great dancer. She was always an incredible dancer. And so literally, when she would forget the lyrics, she. And I mean, she was, I mean, look at pictures from Maya. I mean, I think might be out of her whole life, but. Oh, well. And at this point in her life, like she'd been performing, I forget the lyrics and she just go. I appear to have forgotten the lyrics and then, like, she would then do a dance. Kind of till she got back to, you know, it's obviously the minute I was like, you can forget the lyrics all you want. And then. So, so then, you know, decades later and what, you know, because, my angels were like a series of memoirs, you know, she lives so many lives. Which is another interesting, you know, parallel with the book. Billie Holiday turns out to be in the audience, and comes to talk to her in the green room. And I think they saw each other, like. Like she visited at her home later and did not get along. They did not like each other. Maya Angelou is really homophobic because because of rumors about, Billie Holiday's bisexuality. So she and she says, I mean, very transparent in her writing. I was like, I just didn't think very highly of her, but, Billie Holiday imagine. I mean, you know, I think there's a direct line from Billie Holiday to, like, maybe the caliber of Whitney Houston. So imagine you're on stage just getting long. Been your little to do, you know, you think it's cute and you look out and then there's like, there is the artist of the form that you are on stage making a joke of in front of her. And so in the green room, this is what Maya Angelou said. Billie Holiday told her, you're going to be famous, but it won't be for singing.
Luke Burbank: Wow.
Saeed Jones: That was the end. There's one album, one music album, and all of my Angeles life she recorded was Miss Calypso. That was it. Wow a wrap. So I'm like, I guess Billie Holiday was right. And then Billie Holiday that, like, died a few years later is incredible. Yeah. What are the odds?
Luke Burbank: Well, you mentioned Whitney Houston, and you have a poem about Diahann Carroll in the, in the Beverly Hills Hotel in a back in about which to me, very much seemed like it's also a poem about Whitney Houston.
Saeed Jones: Yes. Oh, yeah. Yeah, that's a parallel.
Luke Burbank: Because of the circumstances around her passing and also her life. I mean, you seeing a connection between all of the women that you're writing about in this book, including your mother?
Saeed Jones: Yeah, I mean, I, you know, I think you see me on the page, examine and perform my distress. My, my paralleling, my sense of like, oh, what's going on and everything like that. And I think it's always important, you know, I mean, I think a great deal about, intersectionality and everything like that and what's going on in our country. But as much as I'm freaked out, it's like, you know, what's really hard for in this country? It's like black women, black trans women, you know? So I, I think it's important, you know, even as I'm like, owning y'all are freaking me out. You know, you stressing outside. I also think it's important for me to think like, well, what else? Like who else is, you know, going through this and, and thinking about my mom's experiences and certainly the women who appear in the book, I'm like, yeah. It's like, yeah. So do you have a certain privilege to speak out about your age, your rage and your distress? It's very dangerous for black women to be as vocal. You know, I mean, you know, a black woman says the sky is blue, and you see the pushback, you see the disrespect.
Luke Burbank: You note at the end of the book, certain poems being nonfiction. Yeah. Which presumes the existence of fictional poems. And I'm trying to understand the difference, because aren't all poems nonfiction on some level? Because it's an experience. It's a feeling like, what's the difference between a nonfiction poem and a fiction poem for you?
Saeed Jones: I've written poems and certainly read poems. Other people that could be a short story, you know, in a different I mean, persona, you know, you know, Billie Holiday, Maya Angelou. I mean, that's not I mean, it's it's based on something and truth, but I'm I'm taking on Maya Angelou as a character, you know, the dynamic that the capital T truth may be present, but is it accurate? Factual? No. So I, I liked, trying to identify for the reader these specific moments like this is a nonfiction poem where, essentially like looking at poetry's potential to kind of function as a personal essay.
Luke Burbank: Is the would you consider the Luther Vandross poem nonfiction or fiction.
Saeed Jones: Ooh that's a good I mean it's something closer to nonfiction. I mean it's yeah I think it is nonfiction. And I tried to every detail in the poem is. Yeah. Something he went through in his life pretty specific. Like he what he would like in if you read, an excellent biography of his by Craig Seymour. And they were pretty close. So much like Luther never used pronouns when talking about his relation, like he was so closeted. He was he was he was very strategic. So he he wouldn't say. He would just say, I'm in love. I'm in love. And it's so great. He wouldn't he was very careful, you know.
Luke Burbank: Well, you write that this poem, that is about Luther Vandross is you made it intentionally difficult to read aloud as a reference to how Luther Vandross would, like, collaborate. Yeah.
Saeed Jones: Luther was a bitch. It was great. You know, I get it. I mean, who wouldn't be, you know, under those. You know, the class was a very stressful place to be. Turns out, it makes you not so nice. But, yeah, he was also, you know, genius and rigorous, you know, the Wiz? You know the Wix? Yeah, we love the — Yeah. Okay. Thank you.
Luke Burbank: All right. It was. It was on national television.
Saeed Jones: I forgot I was in Portland.
Luke Burbank: It was—
Saeed Jones: Black people know the Wiz, okay?
Luke Burbank: It was on national television. There was like three channels.
Saeed Jones: You got it. Luther Vandross wrote two songs for it when he was a teenager. What? That was the the range of his talent. I think honestly just weighed in. Sexuality would have totally changed the dynamics of his career. Anyway, so he was really rigorous in the studio and he gets to the point at his peak, he's consistently collaborating with people like Aretha Franklin. And if, even Aretha, while singing recording would mispronounce, he would stop.
Luke Burbank: I assumed you were referencing, like, the whole argument. So you just meant like a random others. I didn't realize the Aretha Franklin.
Saeed Jones: Yeah, yeah. The quote is, I mean, because it happens. And they were I mean, they, they would fuss and break up and they were very much like frenemies. It was really interesting. They made up towards the end of his life, which I think was good. What did he say? He interrupted her and she said, who has the most number one albums? Luther. Oh, and he said, how long has it been since your last one? 000, that's what I tell you. Like studying history and going into this to like, keep. I was like, who? I've a lot a reason to live for another day. Oh my gosh.
Luke Burbank: Well, we are very glad to have you here with us and. Glad to have this piece of work. It's alive at the end of the World by Saeed Jones. Say, thank you so much. That was, Saeed Jones right here on Live Wire this week. We were talking about his latest book. Of course, Elena, you are also, a big podcast fan of Saeed's show.
Elena Passarello: Oh, yeah. I don't miss an episode of Vibe Check, which stars Saeed, Zach Stafford and other friend of Live Wire, Sam Sanders. It is such a great podcast and I cannot I cannot miss a single episode.
Luke Burbank: It feels to me I listen to that show to like the perfect kind of like update on what's happening out in the culture, but then also like a serious, meaningful conversation about about what's happening, but not in a way that feels like you're just kind of, you know, in class or something like it just kind of the. Right. Exactly. Well, it's called vibe check. It's like the right exact vibe of everything.
Elena Passarello: It's like nuanced and challenging and kind, like all three things at once.
Luke Burbank: And, a probably a template for what we should try to do more of on this show. Yeah. Saeed's latest book, Alive at the End of the World, is out right now, and you should go grab it. This is Live Wire from Luke Burbank here with Elena Passarello. We have to take a very quick break, but don't go anywhere. We are celebrating Black History Month this week on the show, and when we come back, we are going to hear some of the really innovative musical stylings of Meklit. So don't go anywhere. Welcome back to Live Wire from PRX, I'm Luke Burbank here with Elena Passarello. We are celebrating Black History Month this week on the show, and our musical guest is a master mixologist and not the kind that will make you a, you know, like, weird martini with a, you know, cottage cheese in it or something. All due respect to master mixologist.
Elena Passarello: A protein martini.
Luke Burbank: Yeah, right. It's very big. Very big right now. What she does is blend the sounds of East Africa with the Bay area to create her own kind of unique style of Ethio jazz. Her most recent album is When the People Move. The music moves, too. She's also the host of the podcast "Movement" where she tells stories of global migration through music. Oh, and also her TEDx talk, which she has, "The unexpected beauty of everyday sounds" has been viewed over a million times at this point. Take a listen to this. It's Meklit here on Live wire. Hi. Hi. Welcome back.
Meklit: Well, it's good to be back.
Luke Burbank: What song are we going to hear, Meklit?
Meklit: We're going to hear a song. We're going to play a song for you called, I Want to Sing for Them All. And this is like, this is my anthem. All my Ethiopian influences and my American influences put together into one very danceable number. So if you want to shake on in your seats or get up and dance well, you know you are more than welcome.
Luke Burbank: And in your car at home. If you're listening to this right now, I mean safely put down the cell phone, stop texting and do a little chair dancing 2 or 2. This is Meklit.
[Meklit performs I Want to Sing For Them All]
Luke Burbank: That was Meklit right here on Live Wire. Make sure you check out her album When the People Move, the Music moves too, and also her podcast Movement. That is going to do it for this week's episode of Live Wire. A huge thanks to our guests Tracy K Smith, Saeed Jones and Meklit.
Elena Passarello: Laura Hadden is our executive producer, and Heather De Michele is our executive director. And our producer and editor is Melanie Sevcenko. Eban Hoffer and Molly Pettit are our technical directors at our house sound is by D. Neil Blake. Tre Hester is our assistant editor. Our marketing and production manager is Karen Pan. Rosa Garcia is our operations associate, Jackie Ibarra is our production fellow, and Becky Phillips is our intern. Our house band is Ethan Fox Tucker, Sam Tucker, Ayal Alves, and A Walker Spring who also composes our music. This episode was mixed by Molly Pettit and Tre Hester.
Luke Burbank: Additional funding provided by the Oregon Arts Commission, a state agency funded by the state of Oregon and the National Endowment for the Arts. Live wire, was created by Robyn Tenenbaum and Kate Sokoloff. This week, we'd like to thank members Aliya Keating of Sandy, Oregon, and Michelle Rosenthal of Seattle, Washington. For more information about our show or how you can listen to our podcast. Head on over to live wire radio dot org. I'm Luke Burbank for Elena Passarello and the whole Live Wire crew. Thank you for listening and we will see you next week.
— PRX —
