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The Worlds of Ntozake ShangeAND DIGITAL STORYTELLING

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Traditions Feed the Soul

by Perry O'Parsons 2 Comments

The first chapter of If I Can Cook/ You Know God Can gave me some things to think about; like about the varying degrees to which holidays carry meaning for different people. This is something I have never really thought about. It had never occurred to me before that holidays that get the most attention and deference are not for everyone (no holiday is). Placing value on one set of traditions A. creates the expectation that everyone else will feel the same about those traditions and B. that those traditions are somehow superior or more important than any others. This could be incredibly demoralizing to anyone who does not subscribe to those traditions and/or their value-systems.

This makes me think about nationally-recognized holidays. How does that work? Who is deciding what should be recognized as a national holiday? Like… thanksgiving?? I do love cranberry sauce on turkey, but why do we eat it on thanksgiving? And WAY more importantly, WHY do we get a week (or about a week) off for thanksgiving? That week off says “this  holiday is important and should be celebrated” and as we know Thanksgiving has some devastating and violent baggage attached to it.

That all being said, for those who might be ignored or harmed by the observation of certain national holidays, there is great pride and strength to be found in reclaiming holidays. As Shange writes in If I Can Cook/You Know God Can: “And so, black-eyed peas and rice or “Hoppin’ John,” even collard greens and pig’s feet, are not so much arbitrary predilections of the “nigra” as they are symbolic defiance; we shall celebrate ourselves on a day of our choosing in honor of those events and souls who are an honor to us.”(7) I think this quote gets to heart of what If I Can Cook is about. Shange is celebrating her traditions, her loved ones’ traditions, and the traditions of the African Diaspora, by exploring the stories behind these recipes she gives them recognition that that they do not get from, for example, the united states government.

Additionally, by documenting these recipes and their stories, she is creating a record for future generations to refer to in order to understand, and establish their traditions. Holidays such as Christmas, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, and easter are often discussed or taught in American schools, meanwhile hundreds, probably thousands of holidays which may be practiced/observed by students in an American classroom, are not taught.

The same principle is at work in chapter one when she cooks a traditional New Year’s Eve meal for her daughter. She is giving her daughter a solid ground to stand on, an assurance that someone came before her, and by carrying on their traditions she is supported by them. Lots people in America don’t necessarily have to think about this dynamic. People who unquestioningly subscribe to the holidays and traditions observed by the government, by those currently in power, are given this support. They don’t have to look for it. Some might say, who cares? It’s just a silly matter of holidays and when school is out for winter break. But, as Shange seems to get at in “What’d You People Call That?” the human soul is fed by traditions and history. She says, “Though I ate alone that New Year’s Eve, I knew a calm I must attribute to the satisfaction of my ancestors. I tried to feed us.”(9) She is feeding her daughter’s soul now, and giving her means to feed it for years to come. Something she might not be given otherwise, or may not discover for many years. What a gift to give your daughter! 

 

Below I’ve listed two Wikipedia pages that I make me realize how many different holidays, which many of which are likely practiced by people in America, are ignored by the designation of Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter etc. as national holidays.

Here is a picture of one of the covers of If I Can Cook.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_immigration_statistics

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lists_of_holidays

feminine imagination

by Melissa 1 Comment

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Womanspirit is a feminist publication that is made up of collections of short-stories, poetry, manifestos, and essays written by women who were part of a creative and political community that centralized spirituality in anti-oppression work. Their statement of philosophy emphasizes the interconnectedness of social justice, spiritual empowerment, and self-determination. Each piece in the publication is concerned with spirituality as a crucial component of structural anti-oppression work and interpersonal healing and community building. Women offer up spells and rituals in their writing as a mode of imagining new possibilities for collective liberation and as a practice of healing and tending to intimate concerns around relationships between women — which include mother-daughter relationships, romantic partnerships, friendships etc.

 

In a poem titled “Full Moon Ritual”, the author explores the concept of self-making through nature. The moon serves as a symbol of feminine power and as a source of light and energy. Divinity, nature, and womanhood are linked in their life-giving force; a force that fosters utopic imaginings of liberation and collective joy. The moon, in its cyclical rhythms and “distinctive patterns”, parallels the cycle of menstruation, symbolically linking the life-giving cycles of womanhood and nature.

 

Our power is for creation and recreation of our

lives, of the world,

of life as we live it day to night, night to day

Nature, in its fecundity, is the source of (re)creation and constant rejuvenation. The feminine imagination offers similar possibilities of (re)creation in its life-giving force. “We have the power to create a rebirthing of our own”. I take this to mean that in activating the feminine impulse through creation, we can attain a state of renewal. For me, this feminine impulse and imagination is not one that is bound to corporeal conceptions of menstruation and reproduction, but that also extends to the imaginative realm of creation. Shange’s literature utilizes this feminine impulse to create narratives that gives voice to our memories and hopes. Literature that mobilizes this impulse offer us the opportunity to imagine and (re)create the world according to principles of collective liberation and empowerment.

decolonizing the diet

by Sophia 0 Comments

The first chapter of If I Can Cook / You Know God Can addresses the effects of food’s presence and absence. When there is a shortage of food, the first efforts made are simply to nourish —in any way possible, as soon as possible. Efforts made to eliminate food insecurity, whether within in the United States or outside of it, almost always move away from native culinary traditions, as the cultural associations that they carry are intimately tied with infrastructures that created and propagated the insecurity in the first place. In other words, attempts to eliminate hunger inevitably lead to the elimination (if merely inadvertent) of culinary traditions personally associated with it. That it is inadvertent is critical; the pain of hunger is urgent, fundamental, and quickly becomes a matter of life or death with the passage of time. The general condition of food insecurity carries with it its own urgency; even if not hungry in a given moment, there remains the looming possibility that one might be thrust into that life-or-death-condition at any time, and be dramatically inhibited from meeting the demands of daily life —the meeting of all of which and more are necessary for the removal of one/one’s family from this position of precarity.
So with this in mind, no one —those who find their home in ‘American food’ and those who don’t— thinks to consider the health lost in the abandonment of native food traditions, and the possibilities of food beyond essential daily calorie replenishment and into realms of spiritual healing, unity within and across cultures, and ritual acts of decolonization. Shange wonders
“if the move to monolignualize this country is a push for the homogeneity of our foods as well. Once we read American will e cease to recognize ourselves, our delicacies and midnight treats?” (5)
Food serves a deeper need than physical nourishment, even when focusing on physical nourishment is all we can afford. Just as African-Americans in Philadelphia hesitated to celebrate the American Declaration of Liberation while the Fugitive Slave Act was in effect, they especially hesitated to do so with potato salad and golden or blanched flesh melon.
In support of the contemporary social justice project to “decolonize your diet,” Native American activist Winona LaDuke emphasizes that
“The recovery of the people is tied to recovery of food, since food itself is medicine—not only for the body but also for the soul and spiritual connection to history, ancestors, and the land.”
In this way, as Shange articulates,
“black-eyed peas and rice or ‘Hoppin John,’ even collard greens and pig’s feet, are not so much arbitrary predilections of the ‘nigra’ as they are symbolic defiance; we shall celebrate ourselves on a day of our choosing in honor of those events and souls who are an honor to us” (6-7).
Even those who are fed —the slaves no longer slaves— are provided food historically tied to victories of their oppressors. Even those who are fed are still hungry for food whose history and semiotics is their own.
She quotes Bob Marley’s “Them Belly Full (But We Hungry)” to explain this.
“Dem belly full, but dey hungry/ A hungry man is an angry man.”
The popular interpretation of this is a warning against allowing Jamaica’s poor to go hungry —which is certainly not untrue. But here Shange uses it to better articulate the deeper hunger that remains even after the little Hatian girl eats every one of the cookies in the red-lettered American box. The song asks the listener to forget their troubles, sorrows, sickness, and weakness through dance, which, like cooking, is a personal, pluralizing, and culturally-motivated strategy by which to reclaim the body.

The Holiness of a Cookbook

by Nicole 1 Comment

While reading both Shange and Mae’s cookbooks I took time to think about the ways in which cooking is important in my family. The first thing that came to mind is the cookbook that my mother keeps which contains recipes from my grandmother and great grandmother and some of our current favorite dishes. To be honest, my mother really does not do too much cooking, my grandmother was the cook in our household until she passed away. My grandmother is no longer here to cook for us, so having a catalogue of her recipes is like preserving the memory of her existence in our household. Her recipes are proof that she did not leave us empty, but left behind ways of nourishing our bodies. This way my grandmother can continue to fill our stomachs despite her not physically being here. Now my mother’s cookbook, our cookbook, is not the same book my Nana (great-grandmother) used. My mother has updated the book itself, but the recipes on cards and sometimes scraps of paper are still the same. Shange writes that “[c]ooking is a way of insisting on living,” I also think that recipes themselves are a way our elders insist on continuing to live with us after their passing (If I Can Cook/ You Know God Can, Ntzoake Shange, 70). This is how we refuse the idea that black culture is static and was ruptured during the Middle Passage. The fact that black people can pass down recipes and see the similarities in traditional dishes among different peoples of color prove that “[w]e are not folklore,” (Shange, 32).

It resonated with me when I read that Mae does not cook with measurements and relies on the feel of things. Reading this reminded me of what I’ve seen in my own home.

And when I cook, I never measure or weigh anything. I cook by vibration. I van tell by the look and smell of it. Most of the ingredients in this book are aproximate. Some of the recipes that people gave me list the amounts, but for my part, I just do it by vibration.  Different strokes for different folks. Do your thing your way. 

(Vibration Cooking, Verta Mae, xxiii)

In my family’s cooking all of the recipes from my Nana and many of those from my grandmother are without certified measurements. Many describe using a tea cup as a measure. Now, what size tea cup, I have no idea. I believe that is what Mae describes as “[d]different strokes for different folks” cooking,” (Mae, xiii). Deciding to not use measurements also makes cooking a learning experience instead of following someone else’s formula. I believe that this is how the act of cooking becomes nourishment in itself, that making your own food is akin to the magical-like home remedies in Sassafrass, Cypress & Indigo. Not only is the food nourishing, but the process of cooking and creating on your own terms is liberating.

 

Below are some photos of recipes from my family’s cookbook:

 

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(My great grandmother’s recipe with measurements adapted by my mother)

 

IMG_6230

(My grandmother’s recipe)

IMG_6232IMG_6231

(My Aunt Gwen’s Recipe)

 

 

 

A Recipe & Letter of Love

by Danielle 1 Comment

This was my second time reading Shange’s Sassafrass, Cypress & Indigo. I looked more delicately at the recipes woven throughout the story. They are the yarn through which Hilda Effania/Mama stays connected to her daughters after they leaver her house. With the first line of the novel in mind (“When there is a woman, there is magic”), I think, especially as a child, there is a magic in motherhood. Mama knows how to heal wounds and almost always has advice that reassures. But as her daughters grow older and leave the nest, Mama finds that some of her advice seems to have staled (though, not for a lack of trying) in reaching the new lifestyles her daughters are living on their own. At moments when Sassafrass & Cypress are more distant from their mama’s hopes for their future/livelihood/womanhood, they find comfort and connection in her recipes.

Cypress has a recipe—My Mama & Her Mama ‘Fore Her: Codfish Cakes (Accra). The ingredients have immortalized over time, bridging the connection and comfort of generations; Mama’s recipes are magic that transcend time and space. Cypress is across the country from her home but—through cooking—in dialogue with the love of her maternal roots.

Mama’s Kwanza Recipe (for Sassafrass): Duck with Mixed Oyster Stuffing

1 duck, 5-7 pounds, cleaned & seasoned                        1 medium onion, chopped

1 pan cornbread                                                                   1 teaspoon paprika

2 tablespoons butter                                                           1 ground red pepper pod

1/2 cup celery, chopped                                                      1 dozen oysters (medium)

Salt & fine black pepper to taste                                       1 cup pecans, chopped

Wet the cornbread, break into bits and fry in the butter with the celery and onion. Add seasonings. As mixture gets crisp, add oysters & pecans. Stuff your duck & bake in a 450° oven for 15 minutes, then lower to 350° and bake 15 minutes for each pound. Baste every 15 minutes. Don’t forget to cover the bottoms of the pan with water, and be sure to keep the duck tightly covered until the last 15 minutes, when the skin can be brown.

 

Mama is pained that Sassafrass trades in Christmas for Kwanza (“When you said you weren’t having Christmas, I kept wondering where I had failed”), but she sends a recipe for her daughter’s holiday feast. Mama’s love and recipe from home transcends distance, and takes a seat at her daughter’s table. It’s her way of participating in her daughter’s life without physically being there. The recipe name (“Kwanza” replaces “Christmas”) Mama coins speaks to how recipes are like letters constantly in dialogue; they are conversations not fixed, but alive and shaped by the artists of each generation.

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Throughout reading the novel, I listened to Martha Reeves & The Vandellas album Dancing in the Street, and I thought I’d share my favorite song!

Revelations on Carnal Intellectuality

by Nadia 1 Comment

Shange’s visit gave me to the opportunity to ask her questions and connect the dots between ideas I have been developing throughout the semester. I was able to address issues I have been struggling with in my previous blog posts. These issues included questions Professor Hall and Tiana had in response to my blog post “Dance: as a means of survival and a revelation of truth” which was a response to Clarke’s blog post “Sweat, Truth and Survival.”  They asked,

“What kinds of truth does the body contain that aren’t as accessible in other ways?”

&

“What  does truth mean (in my, Clarke or Shange’s  writing)?”

I wrote my previous blog post in an attempt to understand why and how dance is so central to Shange’s work as a writer. I started to gain a greater understanding of Shange’s idea of truth when I asked her what the relationship was between dancing and cooking. I noted that she writes about cooking in From Okra To Greens as a mode for survival and self-preservation in a similar way to which she writes about dance in her other works.

I particularly observed this in the way in which she talks about cooking in “From Okra to Greens / A Different Love Poem / We Need a Change.” In  this poem she writes:

i lived in her kitchen/ wit greens i cd recollect

yes the very root of  myself

In response to my question, Shange said that cooking and dance are connected to her because both allow her to participate in a tradition of people of color that has existed for centuries and therefore, allows her to feel connected to people of color throughout time and throughout the world.

I began to understand the centrality of dance as I marveled at how dance, for Shange, cannot be separated from anything else in her life. Even in her discussion about cooking she mentioned that she dances in the kitchen while cooking. For Shange, the completion of a thought cannot be expressed in words, but rather is completed with a gesture. While writing, she dances in her seat to the tapping of the keys or to the rhythm of the music she is listening to. Shange’s response reminded me of her concept of carnal intellectuality which is a way of knowing that can only be processed, understood, and expressed through the body. Therefore, truth for Shange may have less to do with what is said, but rather what is felt and experienced.