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The Worlds of Ntozake ShangeAND DIGITAL STORYTELLING

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Our digital future–archives/Shange/ICP

by Kim Hall 0 Comments

We have short-term and long-term planning to do at the beginning of class!  We will be changing the syllabus to accommodate Shange’s visit on 10/22-10/23.  Instead of going to the Schomburg, we’ll have our introduction to the Shange papers here at Barnard. (As I was reading the forward to for colored girls . . .  and her description of “plundering notebooks” and calling friends in search of the “somebody anybody sing a black girl’s song” poem, it made me wonder in how many places Shange’s “archive” resides.)

Obviously, we’ve read quite a bit already, but I thought it might be nice to have a common reading we might discuss with her. A couple of (short) candidates:
1. From Okra to Greens: A Different Kinda Love Story, which A Daughter’s Geography says was originally performed by BOSS at Barnard College.

2. boogie woogie landscapes, first presented as a one woman piece which scholar *Lester calls a “continuation of for colored girls”.

 

 

 

 

The longterm planning is more challenging. I have to schedule the Spring seminar. The ICP sessions are three hours. It’s possible (I think) to do it at our current time with an extra hour, but I’d like the brainstorm some possible times from between 8-5 since the Schomburg archives are only open during those times. Remember that we won’t be having regular classes towards the end of the semester.

for colored girls, a movin’ work

by Kim Hall 9,432 Comments

First edition of the poetry collection edition of for colored girls, Shameless Hussy Press

We had seen posters advertising the piece months before we headed to midtown; Shange’s face, as painted by Paul Davis, had been plastered around the city. We hadn’t seen a black girl’s body promoting anything literary since Kali published her book of poems, in 1970, at the enviable age of nine. You couldn’t have mistaken Shange, with her head scarf and multiple earrings, for a jive tastemaker; her style wasn’t very different from that of my four older sisters, who took African-dance classes and swore by “Back to Eden. — Hilton Als

 

I wonder if Ntozake Shange knew how prescient she was when, at the end of for colored girls have considered suicide when the rainbow was enuf, the cast intones, “this is for colored girls who have considered suicide/ but are movin to the ends of their own rainbows” (88).   Since for colored girls . . . appeared on Broadway in September 1976, women have moved to “the ends of their own rainbows” by recreating the magic of fcg on college campuses and in theaters across the world.

Narration through Poems & Photography

by Michelle 3 Comments

In For Colored Girls who have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf, Ntozake Shange writes

but bein alive & bein a woman & bein colored is a metaphysical

dilemma/ I havent conquered yet / do you see the point

my spirit is too ancient to understand the separation of

soul & gender / my love is too delicate to have thrown

back on my face (45)

This passage towards the end of the choreopoem pulled me to think about the different ways that Shange has been able to narrate the complexities of being a black woman. She is able to convey pain, sisterhood, power, mundaneness, creativity, etc. through words and movement. While it is a different lady who narrates different situations, they all come together at several parts of the poem and interact with each other. This gives a sense of individuality (or isolation, the feeling that you are the only one experiencing these situations) but also discourse (the ladies form a sisterhood of shared experiences).

This form of narration reminded me of a photo series by Carrie Mae Weems. Titled “The Kitchen Series”(1990), the photo series also does an incredible job of narrating a scene with few props and sequencing. The photos take place at a kitchen table with a low hanging light, centering a black woman (Weems, herself) doing a series of activities in each photo. Many things remain constant in this photo series, such as the kitchen table, the tones of the photo, the angle of the shot, and the black woman. But each scene conveys a different situation through the small changes in props and people.  These subtle changes encourage the audience to draw connections between the photos but to also think about the person and the place in creative and different ways. Through this technique, Weems is able to narrate the complexities of black womanhood. Below are just a few from the series, but it highlights how Weems is thinking about the different aspects of being a black woman. Some photos highlight herself to be a partner (lover), a distressed self, a friend, a mother, a sexual being, etc.

I am interested in thinking more about Shange and Weem’s process of creating that has lead them to be able to accurately reflect and portray what they feel and see without reducing themselves or situations into tropes. Many of the scenarios and situations they present are familiar and shared but encourages the audience to think more about the complexities rather than reduce it to just that scene.

Dance: A means of survival and a revelation of truth

by Nadia 2 Comments

I really like Clarke’s question in her blog post “Sweat, Truth and Survival:“In what ways does Shange characterize truth and survival as “one”?” There are probably several lenses through which one could tackle this question and here I will attempt to offer one.

In the readings we have done thus far, dance is key for liberation of the black woman and Shange’s choreopoem “for colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf” continues to express this idea.

In the first poem “dark phases,” Shange shows the importance of giving women a voice and the opportunity to be heard. Not only does Shange give voice to the “dark phases of womanhood/ of never having been a girl” (17), but she also encourages the audience to be intimate with the woman’s story, to “sing her rhythms/ carin/ struggle/ hard times. sing her song of life” (18). As the audience becomes familiar with the woman’s song, so does the woman herself who has “been dead so long/ closed in silence so long/ she doesn’t know the sound of her own voice/ her infinite beauty” (18). As for colored girls progresses, one discovers that the woman’s voice dwells in her body.

Soyica Diggs Colbert’s article “Black Feminist Collectivity in Ntozake Shange’s for colored girls…” talks about how black women’s bodies are sexualized and demonized. However, she goes on to say, “Rather than trying to assimilate into a system of desire that diminishes the shape of the black woman, Shange suggests that in order to find her voice she needed to accept her body. Dance was part of the process of moving toward acceptance.”

More than self-acceptance, dance is a means of survival.

“we gotta dance to keep from cryin/ we gotta dance to keep from dyin” (29)

“there is no me but dance/ & when i can dance like that/ there’s nothing that cd hurt me” (57)

Dance is a revelation of truth because it embodies a woman’s very essence, which is something that cannot be fully expressed in words. The lady in purple says “to come wit you/ i hadta bring everything/ the dance & the terror” (58). “[the lady in green] is Sechita and for the rest of the poem dances out Sechita’s life” (37), revealing the goddess of creativity and love through movement.

Dance also reveals truth because it makes up for the limitations of language. Dance, unlike spoken language, has the ability to live in silence, in “melody-less-ness” (17).

So, how does Shange characterize truth and survival as ”one”? She does this by showing dance is survival and dance reveals the truth. However, a question I would like to explore in future blog posts is, “What is truth for us as readers and for Shange?”