Jason Reynolds's Blog, page 21

Day 2 of 30

MY GRANDDADDY HAD

hands

that could get to the root

could till

and tend

and shuck

and scrap

and dig

and break

broken things

fixed

My granddaddy had

hands

that could do things

hands

that grew things

National Poetry Month, Day 1

So, today begins National Poetry Month, which for me and all my geeky poetry friends, means party time. Every year there is this challenge to write thirty poems in thirty days (which is hard and downright ridiculous, honestly) but this year, I’ve decided to give it a go!

CHA-LAWNGGGGEEEE

THE SADNESS

is just so hard

to explain.

Imagine waking up

and someone,

a stranger,

has you strapped down,

has pliers shoved

into your mouth,

gripping a tooth

somewhere in the back,

one of the big

important ones,

and rips it out.

Imagine the knocking

in your head,

the pressure pushing

through your ears,

the blood pooling.

But the worst part,

the absolute worst part,

is the constant slipping

of your tongue

into the new empty space,

where you know

a tooth is supposed to be

but ain’t no more.�

DC, MD, VA come check me THIS Monday!!

LA!!!

Only for procrastinators!

So, I’ve got all the social media thingys, but the one I’ve never really gotten into, is tumblr. Until now.

www.procrastinationjason.tumblr.com

NO this tumblr is not taking the place of this blog. This is my home base. BUT anyone who knows me knows I’m interested in…EVERYTHING and this tumblr gives me an opportunity to curate a space. My kind of space. It’s filled with all the things that keep me from doing the work I need to be doing…writing. And my hope is that it will help you procrastinate and keep you from whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing at work. I mean, if you’re gonna procrastinate, why not preoccupy yourself with awesomeness?

Check it out!

Tour Dates

More info to come shortly!

Come show your faces!

WHEN I WAS THE GREATEST in stores NOW!

Check out my interview on Saint Heron!

Go here, to check out my interview on Saint Heron (Solange Knowles’s brainchild) where the awesome Naima Ramos-Chapman asked me about the making of WHEN I WAS THE GREATEST as well as what my favorite dance move is, what sound I make when I’m writing, and a ton of other interesting tidbits! There’s even video!

I have to say this was the most fun I’ve had being interviewed by far!

My First Kiss

Well, her name was Delores, but everybody in the neighborhood called her DeeDee, which was a little weird for me because that’s also my older sister’s name. Anyway, DeeDee and I were in my room, under my bed. Let me explain. In eighties there were these beds that (I actually think this style was a carryover from seventies) had drawers connected to them. So if you pulled all the drawers out, it left a hollow space underneath the mattress. Like a fort. So DeeDee and I were in that space. The fort space.

There was no discussion. No planning. DeeDee just pressed her face against mine and shoved her tongue in my mouth. Her whole tongue. And…I stopped breathing. Totally forgot that I could breathe through my nose so instead, in a panic, I just held my breath while DeeDee tongue-stabbed my face like a maniac. I’m not even sure our lips were touching.

Finally, when it was over, which was when I pushed DeeDee off me, I gasped for air as if I had been underwater. As if I had been drowning. DeeDee smiled. I smiled too, feeling a sudden rush. To this day I’m not sure of that rush came from the kiss, or from the fact that I survived suffocation.

We were seven. And we never kissed again. But I’ll never forget that first one, when she almost killed me. Under my bed. Thanks DeeDee, wherever you are. You changed my life forever.

Thanks Ebony.com for the shoutout!

Check it, check it, check it outtttt!

BOOM!

Pick up WHEN I WAS THE GREATEST wherever books are sold!

Black History is…interesting

Let me correct that. Black History is amazing, but our connection to it every year around this time is interesting. We boast our heroes and ancestors, grateful for their sacrifices and achievements, as well as the strides that have been made due to their work. And that’s GREAT. But a bit short-sighted. At least to me. Black History is about the mere existence as a black person in this country, each of us, past and present, adding a bit more water to a deep, deep well. My mother was the first black woman to hold the top position at her job. You’ve never heard of her, or her company, but because of her, another black person has a shot at that position now that my mother has retired. Even those of us who “go astray,” the ostracized and ridiculed, though seen as toxic and embarrassing, they too are part of this rich history. Amos & Andy, a show that displayed us as clowns and buffoons was in fact the first black sitcom. There would’ve been no Cosby show if it wasn’t for Amos & Andy. Sometimes there’s purpose even in the poison.

My point is, Black History is a never-ending quilt. Different squares, patterns, colors, stitched together to provide shelter and warmth for the present and future. And though some squares may seem more intricate, more vibrant, without the square it’s attached to, it’s simply just a handkerchief. 

Therefore, EVERY square is valuable. EVERY square is woven into this history. So let’s celebrate, not only the big names — the bright squares — but also our individual families, our private stories, and our personal and communal steps toward, first, self-acceptance, as well as racial equality.