DASHIKIS AND WAR PAINT
I watched as the greatest symbols and silhouettes of hope I’ve ever seen let glee drive them into a joyful madness. There were no politics, no malevolent motives, no need to build identity with the tattered remains of another; just movement, just dainty dances, just the need to enjoy the moment others. It was an Eden thousands of serpents could not taint. It was a place where there was no I, me, he, she, they, them, or us. There was only we, something so pure that the thought of its corruption made me nauseous. The blend of Kendrick Lamar’s words and the sounds of bliss echoed through the building, once a church and still one, in a way. I was just another teenager in a circle of teenagers who watched as other teenagers danced. One boy was in the middle, moving with fluidity and intensity. The rest of us vibed to the music. Next to us was a row of chairs where people sat, talked, and relaxed. In front of them was a stage where DJ Reezy backspun every time Lamar said, "Martin had a dream." To the left of Reezy was a light-skinned giant with short dreadlocks in front of the microphone. Reezy cut off the music and the dancing stopped; everyone focused their attention to the giant on the stage.
"What up? Welcome to the first slam of the PYPM slam season. My name is Vision and I am the creative director of PYPM. How many of you have never been to a slam before?" Almost half the crowd raised their hands. "Well, let me break it down. A performer comes up and says their poem in three minutes or less. They get a ten second grace period and then they get points taken off." He pointed to a table where three older people were sitting. "Those are the judges. Their job is not be influenced when they score; your job is try to influence them when they score. If you hear someone say something you like, that really hits you, snap your fingers; says yaaas. Not that classy yes. No. Get ratchet with it. Say yaaas poet. Yaaas, speak. Let the dude on stage know that you feel what he’s sayin’. Now, we’re going to do an energy check. When I say ‘PY’, you all say ‘PM’. PY!!"
"PM!!!"
"PY!!"
"PM!!"
"Now, when I say, ‘Team Black’, you yell, ‘dashikis and war paint’ as you take your fingers and move them over ya’ face like you’re putting on war paint. Now don’t say ‘aww’ you just drank a cool beverage, say ‘AWWWW’ like you’re doing a war cry."
"Team Black," he screamed.
Putting imaginary war paint on our faces we all screamed, "Dashikis and war paint AWWWW!"
Slam poetry is a combination of acting, writing, and sometimes music. The first thing that probably comes to a person’s mind when they think of a poetry slam is some hippie asshole saying some bullshit that sounds deep as another hippie asshole plays the drums. Both hippie assholes are in some coffee shop surrounded by more hippie assholes, enchanted by these wastes of breath. These are the people who give slam poetry a bad name. Hopefully, the slam poetry gods smite all hippie assholes who think they’re poets and make a Sylvia Plath-style poem out of their souls.
Real slam poetry is supposed to make a person feel whatever the poet is feeling. It should be an empathic connection. The poet’s words should reverberate in the audience. Slam was started in the mid 1980’s by a construction worker and poet named Marc Smith. Poetry reading had become dull. It represented generations that were either dead or dying. Poetry would tend to drone on and on. Smith decided to find some way to liven it up. He started a series of readings at a jazz club in Chicago. He made the time limit three minutes so that the poetry wouldn’t drag on and to challenge the poet to keep only the essentials of their message. It was in 1986 that Smith went to the owner of a jazz club called the Green Mill, Dave Jemilo. He asked him if the club could host slam poetry competitions weekly. Jemilo agreed and on July 25, 1986 the Uptown Poetry Slam, the first official competition for slam poetry, was formed. The Green Mill became a haven for creative minds and today is like the Vatican for slam poets. Slam poetry spread through America like a fever, and by 1992, it had expanded to seventeen cities. In 1999, Poetry Slam Incorporated was founded, an organization which hosted poetry slams all over the country.
We were all in a back room away from the crowds and the music. A group of teenage poets gathered around Vision. "So, listen: tonight give it your all. You are on that stage to tell your stories. Those three minutes are about you and what you have to say. Judges be judging; don’t give a shit about them. Just go up there and don’t be fake; don’t pretend to be someone that you’re not. Like Jamarr Hall, said, ‘don’t say a poem in monotone like you weren’t screaming as you wrote it.’ It’s not about winning. It’s about sayin’ what you have to say."
Greg Corbin, the founder of PYPM, walked in as Vision finished his speech. He was a medium build, caramel-skinned man in his mid to late 30s.
"Greg, you got anything to add?" Vision asked.
"I want each of you to ask yourself why you’re on stage. Are you on there because you have something that you want to express, or are you just up there because you want to win? I’ll tell you right now, if you’re just up there because you want to win, then you ain’t going to get very far. Yeah, this is a competition, but this ain’t about who can get the best scores from the judges. It’s about you all having an outlet to say what you go to say. So when you go there, just relax and do what you came here to do."
Writing slam poetry is different than writing anything else. Slam poetry is meant to be said out loud. Though it can translate well into a traditional poem, it is not meant to. Spoken word has a certain cadence that cannot be seen, only heard. That cadence is also where the acting component of the art form comes in. The only time that a slam poem can be said in monotone is if the poem calls for it. A slam poem should be read with emotion. Simply reading some words from a paper is not enough when performing spoken word. Poets have to make the audience feel the emotion behind the words. If a poet just speaks as though he is giving some lecture s/he doesn’t want to give, then no one is going to listen. Depending on the crowd, s/he could even get booed off the stage. If a poem is an angry poem, then that anger needs to be projected. If it it’s a sad poem, then project that sadness. How a poem is performed is just as important as what it says.
When writing a slam poem, it is important to think about the audience. While the piece should be authentic, the audience also needs to understand the message of the poem. Slam poetry is just as much about the listener as it is about the poet. A slam is a form of communication between the two, so if one cannot understand the other, then the entire purpose of the slam is not accomplished. This does not mean to write entirely for the audience, just to keep them in mind while writing.
I’m on stage. It’s probably the fiftieth time that I’ve performed, yet my heart still beats like it’s my first. I close my eyes, trying to calm down as I wait for the crowd to become silent. After a few minutes, the crowd settles. I open my eyes and everyone is focused on me. I begin to speak:
It is my belief that in the first thirty seconds, people decide if they feel like listening. In those first thirty seconds, the poet needs a line that will keep them hooked. It doesn’t have to be the most groundbreaking line ever written; it just has to be able to catch the audience’s attention.
This is what it’s like being a spoken word poet that stutters
When my voice sounds like a scratched cd
When performing poetry is the equivalent to playing basketball with a broken hand
Feeling the rhythmic tune of your words mixed with snaps and cheers when syllables become too complicated for my tongue and then I then I then I
Trying to fight through it but the harder I try to be beat that word out the more it becomes a child kicking and screaming as it’s dragged out
That word is comfortable there so it will not come out unless I make it
I start to hear snaps from the crowd which is a sign that I’m doing well.
When I finally manage to yank it out i i i tt so sou sounds som some llii ke ke th this
For a second I want to stop the poem and explain to the crowd that
Grr Grr: Is me trying to say great
AAhh Ahh: Are similes and metaphors that would resonate in their ears if not told
by a broken voice box
and Rrr ee: Means that I am trying to express myself but it is difficult with a tongue designed to bully me out of speaking
At the last line, the crowd explodes with snaps, stomping feet, and cheers.
Since I can’t and there isn’t a translator app for gibberish the meaningful ideas I was trying to say become jargon
Slam becomes less poetic and more of a battle with me fighting against my own speech
It’s frustrating
To be able to illustrate untold stories that need to be told without being able to tell them
For speaking to feel more muscle exercise than muscle memory
To sound like I’m having a stroke when I’m just trying to speak
I get jealous of other tongues
Envious of the way language smoothly rolls off them
Why can’t mine do the same?
It has the same shape and color
Yet their tongues have the magical ability to speak without speech therapy or practicing in the mirror
For them, speaking is as simple as tying their shoes
But for me, it’s like trying to shoot the wings of a fly blindfolded while riding a horse
At the end of the poem, they clap because they’re supposed to. But I know it’s only because they are supposed to.
Slam poetry is not about winning; it’s not even about being good. It’s about self-expression, whether with others or in private. It’s an art form which is shapeless until someone gives it form. It gives freedom and the courage to be who you are. Slam poetry is the poetry of this generation. It gives a voice to those who listen to the melody of Childish Gambino, The Black Keys, and Kendrick Lamar. It gives a voice to those who ride the train at midnight. It is our poetry.
Jaylen Pearson is a sophomore English Major with a concentration in Writing. When he is not reading comics or playing video games he gets some writing done.
