Text & Photos: Francisco Collazo
Translation: Julie Schwietert Collazo
[vease abajo para la version en espanol]
**

It was several years ago when I came across an interview with Sapphire, the author of the novel, Push, in A&U Magazine. It was an interview that touched me deeply for the thoughtfulness and candor with which the author spoke. At that time, I hadn’t read Push. I’m not even sure how I came across this magazine, but after reading the interview, I decided to keep a copy.

At the time, I had developed a reading strategy for myself: in the summer and fall, I read Spanish literature; in winter and spring, the European classics. Each year, I’d choose new themes or genres. This was the summer of another year, the summer of African American literature: Zora Neale Hurston, Ralph Ellison, Richard Wright, James Baldwin, and others. I wanted to know everything about them. But in Sapphire, I saw something distinct: her answers in the interview were raw, direct, honest, and profound, even possibly offensive for some readers. For me, Sapphire was like a boat that rescued me from the deep waters where Booker T. Washington, W.E.B. Du Bois, and Alex Haley had left me. Sapphire swept me up in the intellectual wave where all of the works I’d been reading were summed up in just one story, that of the individual and her role in the group.

Julie, who’s now my wife, was a friend at that time and we often got together to share our mutual interests: mine, reading; hers, poetry and literature. I spoke with her about my impressions of Sapphire and I suppose she thought it would be important for me to read more of what Sapphire had written, so she gave me another magazine, Poets & Writers, the January/February 2000 issue. Sapphire appeared on the cover; inside was an interview that was extremely personal and intimate.

In that interview, Sapphire engaged the issue of the relationship between the individual and society and perceptions of sexuality. Her observations and analysis, which also touched upon other literary works, were so profound and, at the same time, almost violent, as in the case of this exchange with the interviewer:

[Interviewer]: When Hemingway’s protagonist in “To Have and Have Not” is asked by his giggling white spouse what it was like to have sex with a black woman, he says, ‘like nurse shark.’”

[Sapphire]: One of the effects of being perceived as an animal—a sexual animal, like nurse shark—is repression of your sexuality. So while African Americans are not going to become puritans, we may become something worse fending off this puritan projection of animalism by becoming its opposite. There is a very real danger of killing our selves, committing sexual suicide, because we are trying so hard to be nice….An animal, a distinctly sentient creature, represents sex, which is life—and of course the opposite of that is death.

But what stayed with me long after reading the interview was this exchange, which led me to read Push, a novel that explores the subject of abuse without fear and without apology:

[Interviewer]: Can you tell me why America hates her children?

[Sapphire]: “America Eats Its Young.” That’s the title George Clinton gave a Funkadelic album. The first thing that comes to mind is what a youth-oriented culture we are and at the same time how we despise actual youth and how disenfranchised youth really feel in this country. We have this aging country, obsessed with youth, at the plastic surgeon. So while we want what young people have, we don’t want them.

Reading the book was a special experience; the author was still alive, and she talked in a contemporary voice I could understand. But I knew it hadn’t been easy for her to take possession of this voice, as she’d said in the A&U interview, “[T]he world I was in didn’t have a voice.” It’s a theme that’s evident in her writing, where her protagonists are always in a struggle to find their own voices.

In Push, Sapphire spoke in a loud voice through her characters, who weren’t so distant from her own world. The author, like her characters, is elevated through her flaws. For me, Push is a story about violence from the outside in, of inequality and injustice. Nobody’s spared in this battle between the strong against the week. Society, class, sex, and race all play central roles in the novel, exerting a determining influence over destinies. The transformations that occur in the characters leave imprints on the reader; these may be invisible, but they’re lasting. In Push, nobody’s acting of his or her own volition. Victims and perpetrators, the good and the bad; both are who they are because of the other. This is not a story that makes us feel good, nor a rags to riches story with a happily ever after ending. What it is is a story that obliges you to pay attention, a story that robs your virginity with respect to an innocent view about who we are–or who we could become in just a fraction of a second if we find ourselves in similar difficult circumstances. The characters in Push live among us, right here in this civilized world.

Shortly after reading the book, Sapphire gave a lecture in New York; I attended and was determined to meet her. Our exchange was brief but friendly. I took some photos (which I can’t find at present) and she signed my copy of her book. To see an author and ask her questions directly is an unforgettable experience. It’s to know the person behind the book and to witness her humanity.

The film based on the book will be shown in theaters soon under the title “Precious,” the name of the protagonist in Push. It’s been making the film festival rounds, and is currently showing in the New York Film Festival. The reviews of the film have been positive and predictions are that it will be a box office hit. In fact, tickets for the shows at the Festival have sold out. There are three things I want: one is to see the film, the other is some to care for our precious Mariel Paloma,and the third is that neither will disappoint me!

Interview Excerpts from Poets & Writers, January/February 2000.
Quote from A&U, July 1997, Issue 33

Hace algunos años atrás que encontré en la revista A&U una entrevista que me marcó muy profundo por su contenido y franqueza con la autora de la novela Push, la cual yo no había leído todavía. No se exactamente donde ni como ésta llegó a mi, pero después de leerla, decido guardar una copia de ésta. Daba la casualidad que por aquel entonces yo había desarrollado una estrategia de lectura: verano y otoño, literatura española, invierno y primavera, clásicos europeos y así sucesivamente. Éste era el verano de otro año y me había dedicado a todo lo que tenia que ver con la literatura afroamericana: Zora Neale Hurston, Ralph Ellison, Richard Wright, James Baldwin, y otros. Quería saberlo todo en cuanto a ellos. Pero en Zafiro, vi algo distinto: sus respuestas en la entrevista eran crudas, directas, honestas y profundas, quizás ofensivas para algunos. Para ese entonces ya Zafiro fue como un bote que me sacó de esos mares profundos donde me dejaron los Booker T. Washington, W.E.B. Du Bois, y Alex Haley, y me llevaba a la orilla intelectual donde se resumía toda esta literatura en una sola historia, la del individuo en medio del grupo y su papel dentro de el.

Julie, mi esposa actual, en aquel entonces solo nos reuníamos como amigos para compartir intereses profundos, yo por la lectura y ella por la poesía y la literatura. A ella le hable de mis impresiones sobre Zafiro y quizás sintió que sería para mi importante conseguir todo lo que ella había escrito y me regaló otra revista, Poets & Writers (Poetas & Escritores) en la cual aparece en su portada y lleva una entrevista muy personal e intima.

En aquella entrevista, Zafiro marcó la relación entre el individuo y la sociedad, la percepción del sexo, y el papel del individuo dentro de el. Sus observaciones e análisis—inclusive dentro de la literatura—eran tan profundas pero a la vez, casi violentas, como en el caso de este intercambio con la entrevistadora:

[Entrevistadora]: When Hemingway’s protagonist in “To Have and Have Not” is asked by his giggling white spouse what it was like to have sex with a black woman, he says, ‘like nurse shark.’”

[Zafiro]: One of the effects of being perceived as an animal—a sexual animal, like nurse shark—is repression of your sexuality. So while African Americans are not going to become puritans, we may become something worse fending off this puritan projection of animalism by becoming its opposite. There is a very real danger of killing our selves, committing sexual suicide, because we are trying so hard to be nice….An animal, a distinctly sentient creature, represents sex, which is life—and of course the opposite of that is death.”

Pero lo que quedó conmigo mucho después de leer la entrevista era este intercambio, la cual me llevo a leer Push, la novela que explora el tema de abuso sin miedo y sin apologías:

[Entrevistadora]: Can you tell me why America hates her children?

[Zafiro]: “America Eats Its Young.” That’s the title George Clinton gave a Funkadelic album. The first thing that comes to mind is what a youth-oriented culture we are and at the same time how we despise actual youth and how disenfranchised youth really feel in this country. We have this aging country, obsessed with youth, at the plastic surgeon. So while we want what young people have, we don’t want them.

El libro me marcó al leerlo porque la autora estaba viva, y hablaba el lenguaje contemporáneo que yo entendía. Pero yo supe que no era fácil para ella el logro de tomar posesión de este lenguaje, como había dicho “[T]he world I was in didn’t have a voice.” En su escritura, sus protagonistas siempre se encuentran en la lucha de encontrar su propia voz.

Hablaba en voz alta de personajes que de una manera u otra los veía y no estaban distantes de sus mundos. La autora se eleva en sus faltas, como también la protagonista en su libro. Push (Empujón en español) es para mi una historia sobre la violencia de afuera hacia adentro, de in-igualdad e injusticia. Nadie está a salvo de esta situación; es el fuerte contra el débil. Sociedad, clase, sexo, y raza juegan un papel central que lo envuelve y lo cambia todo. Este cambio y transformación dejan huellas internas, invisibles y duraderas. Nadie actuá por si solo. Víctimas y asaltadores, buenos y malos; ambos son lo que son debido al otro. No es una historia que nos hace sentir bien, ni aquella literatura de pordiosero a rico y de un final feliz para siempre; es, sin embargo, una historia que te obliga a mirar hacia afuera y te arranca la virginidad del quienes somos o de quienes nos podemos convertir en fracción de segundo en circunstancias difíciles. Los personajes viven aquí entre nosotros, en este mundo civilizado.

Poco después de haber leído el libro, Zafiro ofreció una lectura en Nueva York. Me di a la tarea de ir a verla frente a frente. La reunión fue breve, pero cordial. Tome algunas fotos (que ahora no encuentro) y me autografió su libro que ahora es mio. Ver al autor y hacerles preguntas directas sobre mis dudas es una experiencia imprescindible; es como dice un viejo refrán en español “verificar la lista con tu billete.” Es conocer la persona detrás del libro y su humanidad.

La película basada en este libro, saldrá a la pantalla muy pronto y llevará como título “Preciosa,” que es de hecho el nombre que le da el autor a la protagonista. Ésta forma parte de los filmes que serán presentados en el Festival de Cine de Nueva York. Las criticas han sido favorables y se espera que sea una película taquillera en su género. Hasta el momento ya ha vendido todas las taquillas para su presentación en el festival. Por mi parte tres cosas yo espero: una, es poder ir a verla, dos, es encontrar a alguien quien nos cuide a nuestra preciosa Mariel Paloma, y tres, que no me defraude ni el uno ni el otro!

Interview Excerpts from Poets & Writers, January/February 2000.
Quote from A&U, July 1997, Issue 33

Text & Photos: Francisco Collazo
Translation: Julie Schwietert Collazo
[vease abajo para la version en espanol]
**

“Every time we go out, you act like you’ve just gotten off the boat like a refugee,” my wife jokes.

But really, I think she’s right.

It’s hard to go out in New York City without finding something new or interesting. It doesn’t matter how much time you’ve lived here. When we come home from traveling, we always have to familiarize ourselves with the city again. It’s strange; I suppose you don’t have to do the same thing in most other places.

It was only recently that I learned about the New York City Police Museum. During a tour of the city in a double-decker bus, our tour guide mentioned the museum and pointed out its location.

Today, we decided to visit it. Though relatively small, the museum could expand its existing collection with even more interesting objects. It’s a place that’s likely to be very interesting for anyone who wants to know about the history and evolution of the NYPD. Nevertheless, the museum has also been under heavy criticism from city historians, who accuse curators of avoiding the exhibition of items that might be controversial, yet which are also part of the city’s police history.

The museum is housed inside the building that served as the city’s First Precinct, which is located in lower Manhattan near Wall Street. The building itself is a testament to the NYPD’s history. And today, the area is convenient to several subway lines and other services, including banks, restaurants, and shops.

Among the items displayed is a collection of police uniforms from the 1800s to the present day. There’s a replica of a prison cell, an extensive arms collection (including a pistol used by Al Capone), a wall of accused criminals’ photos, taken around the turn of the century, and a collection of items salvaged from the debris of the September 11 attacks.

The museum offers a quick glance inside the department and is a great place to visit with kids during downtime. You can see the entire museum in just over an hour. It’s an ideal place to escape the intense summer heat, the winter’s cold, or to take part in the lectures and family programs the museum offers.

I’ve lived in this city more than eight years and I can’t stay that I know it top to bottom. Everything here happens quickly and without notice. Every summer is like arriving to the city for the first time. I still have the same curiosity about New York that I felt the first day. Lectures, open air concerns, and activities of every type cover the city, from north to south and east to west. The faltering economy has hit the city hard, causing it to scale back the activities it’s offered in the past, but there’s still life pulsing in this city that never sleeps.
**

Cada salida a la ciudad de Nueva York es como si acabara de llegar en un bote como refugiado-me dice mi esposa.

Y creo que es verdad.

Es difícil pasear la ciudad y no encontrar nada nuevo o de interés. No importa cuanto tiempo vivas aquí.

Cuando viajamos fuera de Nueva York por unos días, al regresar tenemos que familiarizarnos de nuevo con esta ciudad. Cosa esta muy extraña y que no sucede con muchas ciudades en el mundo o mejor dicho en muchas otras ciudades.

Hasta hace muy poco no conocía de la existencia del Museo de la Policía de Nueva York. Fue durante un recorrido por la ciudad en esos buses de dos pisos que escuchamos al guía de turismo mencionarlo y señalar el edificio donde se encontraba.

Hoy hemos decididos visitarlo. Este museo aunque relativamente muy pequeño, podría en mi opinión agrupar aun mas cosas interesantes. Es un sitio que puede ser de mucho interés para todo aquel que quiera saber sobre la historia y evolución del departamento de la policía en esta ciudad. Sin embargo, este museo esta bajo fuerte criticismo por parte de los historiadores de la ciudad, quienes lo acusan de no exhibir hechos de naturaleza mas controversiales que también son parte de la historia de este departamento policial.

El museo se encuentra localizado en el edificio que sirvió de Precinto Numero #1 en la parte baja de Manhattan cerca de la Calle Wall. Lugar muy conveniente por su transportación y servicios: bancos comerciales, café, restaurantes, tiendas y librerías de todo tipo.

Este pequeño lugar es un eslabón clave con el pasado de este departamento. Aquí se exhibe una colección de uniformes de la policía desde el 1800s hasta el presente. También muestra una replica de una celda para prisioneros, una colección de armas, incluso una pistola usada por Al Capone y fotos de detenidos con su fichas y cargos criminales, videos y objetos recuperados después del ataque del 11 de Septiembre del 2001 en las ruinas de los gemelos en el bajo Manhattan.

Este museo es una pequeña mirada dentro de este departamento y un buen lugar para visitarlo con niños durante tiempo de oseo. La visita en su totalidad se puede hacer en un poco mas de una hora. Un buen sitio para escapar el fuerte calor del verano, el frío del invierno o para participar en las lecturas y programas que allí se ofrecen.

Han pasado mas de 8 años que vivo en esta ciudad y no puedo decir con toda seguridad que la conozco de arriba abajo. Todo aquí sucede tan rápido y sin aviso. Cada verano es como si arribara a una ciudad nueva por primera vez. Me siento con la curiosidad del primer día. Lecturas, música al aire libre y actividades de todo tipo cubren la ciudad de norte a sur y de este a oeste. La decadente economía le ha dado un golpe fuerte en comparación a lo que ella ha ofrecido en el pasado, pero todavía le queda vida a la ciudad que nunca duerme.

Text & Photos: Francisco Collazo
Translation: Julie Schwietert Collazo
[vease abajo para la version en espanol]
**

Julian Bond (l), Cornel West (r)

The atmosphere was full of emotion. The participants represented diverse professional and social backgrounds: Wall Street investors, social workers, and students from different schools and universities. Whites, blacks, Latinos; men and women of all ages. Personalities from different organizations and television, like PBS journalist Tavis Smiley. They all arrived early, filling the room.

Dr. Cornel West was accompanied by Julian Bond in conversation at Barnes and Noble at a special presentation celebrating 100 years since the foundation of the NAACP.

The bookstore seems more like a church as the shouts of attendees fill the space: “Amen!” “Hallelujah!” “Praised be the Lord!” and “Preach the truth, Brother!” The call and response typical of the Black church characterizes the audience reaction as West and Bond talk about the historical antecedents that gave rise to the NAACP and which justify its continued existence: the lynchings in Illinois in 1908, the recent situation in Philadelphia, where black children were asked to leave an exclusive pool at a white country club. They mention Biblical passages: Matthew 25. Corinthians 2.

Julian Bond (l), Cornel West (r)

Once again, I can appreciate how important and moving it is to see and to be in the presence of a skilled orator, however controversial he may be. West jokes, he accuses, he self-criticizes. The conversation is more intense with each minute that passes and the atmosphere is electric. “Brother” and “sister” are heard again and again, and people pass out membership forms and informational brochures. It’s easy to see how individuality is lost here; the orator dominates and it’s difficult to resist his call.

From my place at the back of the room, the scene evokes the image of a war room where generals are planning their strategy for victory. The words “terrorism,” “attacks,” “blows” and “invasion” are heard more than once, underscoring the need to be prepared.

The conversation between West and Bond, held on July 15, was just part of a larger series of events occurring throughout the US to commemorate the NAACP’s founding, including a visit from President Obama to New York City. Their appearance at Barnes and Noble was also intended to promote West’s memoir, Living and Loving Out Loud, which will be released on October 15, and another book, NAACP: Celebrating a Century 100 Years in Pictures.

As a reader and an editor, I’m constantly amazed by writers’ propensity to depend upon superlatives to describe people, places, and experiences.

Photo: designwallah

If everything is “the best” or “the most,” what’s left as least or worst… or in between?

I’ve decided to collect all the superlatives I come across in the month of May. The purpose? To see if the use of “best of”/”most of” is really as common as I think it is, and then, to reflect critically on what it means to classify everything in categories of extremes.

I won’t be going out of my way to look for superlatives–I’ll just be collecting them as I come across them.

If you find any, feel free to send them my way. I’ll post my findings here at the end of the month.

Text & Photos: Julie Schwietert Collazo
*

Since returning home from celebrating Carnaval in three of Brazil’s cities, I’ve written about Carnaval Beyond Rio and the darker side of this national celebration.

One of my favorite Carnaval memories, though, is of the kids of Pelourinho.

In Pelourinho, the Carnaval celebrations are by the people and for the people, and kids are an important part of the party.

It seems like they get started early!

I could have spent the whole afternoon watching and photographing these precious, precocious toddlers.

Parents may not be wearing costumes, but, like Halloween in the U.S., they take the time to dress their little ones in special outfits.

Some of the costumes I saw were Indians, clowns, queens, princesses, pirates, witches.

So many of the kids seemed naturally photogenic, not yet touched by self-consciousness that creeps into all of us at some point, no matter where we were born. When I aimed the camera at the little boy above, he reached into his pouch and pulled out a handful of confetti…extending his hand towards me.

The kids would dance with each other or alone, with music or without. Later, I’d notice many of them asleep on the shoulders of their parents, exhausted from the day’s fun.