Mark Anthony Neal's Blog, page 426
October 29, 2018
'The Cash Ceiling: Why Only the Rich Run for Office -- And What We Can Do about It

Published on October 29, 2018 09:43
I've Done my Work: Ida B. Wells and The Women Pushing Back Today

Published on October 29, 2018 09:32
October 28, 2018
“somebody/anybody / sing a black girl’s song”: Remembering Ntozake Shange by Lisa B. Thompson

“somebody/anybody / sing a black girl’s song”: Remembering Ntozake Shange by Lisa B. Thompson | @DrLisaBThompson | NewBlackMan (in Exile)
somebody/anybody sing a black girl’s song bring her out to know herself to know you but sing her rhythms – Ntozake Shange, For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf
I walked into Ntozake Shange’s classroom at UCLA as a senior English major. The lecture hall was packed to the brim and buzzing with loud talk and silent nods of acknowledgment. It seemed that everybody black on campus was in that room—not just the poets, but the BSA crew, the jocks, the Black Greeks, even the math majors. We all signed up so we could be blessed by her theatrical genius. I sat in the back nervous and excited waiting for the woman I worshiped since I was a nappy headed middle school girl in the Bay Area.
I’ll never forget hearing the For Colored Girls commercial in 1978 on KDIA—Oakland’s black radio station: “without any assistance or guidance from you i have loved you assiduously for 8 months 2 wks & a day.” Denied a ticket to the show by my mother because I was “too young for all that” I found a way to buy a copy of the book. Every weekend I showered my girlfriends with angst and drama filled performances as the Lady in Green.
On that sunny morning at UCLA Ntozake Shange glided into the room like royalty. No, that’s not right. Not like royalty, she entered that room as royalty. She began the class with a free-write; she asked us to write whatever we liked for a few minutes. Students grabbed their notebooks and that buzz of excitement switched to a thick beat of concentration. We were at work in the presence of a queen. I sat there and wrote non-stop until she called time. She invited us to take the floor to share what we created. The room fell silent.
I don’t know what gave me the gall to stand, but I did. I read to that room the first monologue I had ever written in my life. In that few minutes I transformed from a poet to a playwright. Ntozake Shange’s presence in that room and her presence in American theater changed the course of my life as an artist. Her bold work and spirit gave me permission that I didn’t know I was waiting for as a colored girl who was in love with words and the worlds that they create.
Shange’s class was memorable for so many reasons, too many to share here. I’ll end with two. She invited one of her friends to visit class because he had a new play opening in Westwood. Her friend was George Wolfe, and his play? The Colored Museum. Yes, she shared her magnificent friends with her students. That is why I try to do the same with my own students. I’ll never forget the final day of class. We met in the theater and she shared her new work in progress. It was chillingly brilliant work that brought the AIDs crisis for black people into sharp relief. She was fierce and unapologetic about telling deep truths in ways that linger with audiences long after the curtain comes down.
I always assign Shange’s choreopoems, and books when I teach playwriting or my Staging Black Feminism graduate seminar because it’s important for those coming up now to understand how she revolutionized theater while also helping to shape the course of black feminism. When I saw Ntozake Shange two years ago she was kind to say she remembered me from that UCLA class. She congratulated me on the upcoming Crossroads Theatre production of Single Black Female. That night I told everyone within earshot that I was her former student and that I owed her a debt of gratitude for my career as a playwright. May her light continue to shine in the work of the artists inspired by her groundbreaking contributions to black feminist theatre and black culture.
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Lisa B. Thompson is an award winning playwright, teacher and scholar. The University of Texas at Austin professor is the author of Beyond the Black Lady: Sexuality and the New African American Middle Class and the plays Monroe, Underground, and Single Black Female . The world premiere of her play The Mamalogues will be staged in August 2019 at Austin’s Vortex Repertory Company co-produced by Color Arc Productions.
Published on October 28, 2018 07:24
October 26, 2018
How Slick Rick And Queen Latifah 'Breathed Life Into Hip-Hop' In 1988

Published on October 26, 2018 20:34
In Soul Food Cookbook, Chef Carla Hall Celebrates Black Culinary Heritage

Published on October 26, 2018 20:27
Republicans Split a Black College in Half in Extreme North Carolina Gerrymandering

Published on October 26, 2018 19:57
"Sorry, I'm Washing My Hair" — Rhea Dillon Explores the Particularities of Afro Upkeep

Published on October 26, 2018 19:39
Robin DiAngelo: Being Nice is Not Going to End Racism

Published on October 26, 2018 19:14
Historian Nell Irvin Painter: Going to Art School for Undergraduate Degree After Retirement

Published on October 26, 2018 19:11
The Future of Art According to Carrie Mae Weems

Published on October 26, 2018 19:03
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