Don't Cry, Scream

by Haki R. Madhubuti, Gwendolyn Brooks (Foreword)

In this classic collection of poetry, the reader will find a bold poem for each crucial issue of Black life.

Genres: Poetry

64 pages, Paperback

Published June 1, 1992

Reviews

[Matt Knox]

An interesting collection capturing the spirit and politics of the Black Power era: Haki Madhubuti (or at the time of its writing, Don Lee) is provocative, passionate, humorous, but sometimes confusing and culturally dated. While these poems are laden with meaning it's often hard to tell what he's trying to express - what is he saying about white people or whiteness by rendering it as "whi-te"? What is he saying about black people or blackness when he refers to them as "blackpeople", "blackwoman", "blackman" or "realpeople"? Who is a "negro", that is, in contrast to a "blackperson"? Who are the "unpeople"? This ambiguity demonstrates why poetry can be both so evocative and so imprecise: artists tend to have politics too laden with their sense of aesthetics. Similarly, Madhubuti's poems about "blackwomen" express tension. On the one hand, he seems to view them in a somewhat patriarchal manner, defined in relation to blackmen ("blackwoman:/is an/in and out/rightsideup/action-image/of her man..."); on the other hand, he mocks those blackmen who would use their "revolutionary" credibility to extract sexual favors ("she really had it together/when she said:/go fuck yr/self nigger."). Given the occasional use of casual homophobia to insult assimilated blackmen ("another pipe-smoking faggot/who lost his balls in/a double-breasted suit/walking thru a nadinola commercial/with a degree in european history.") and antisemitism ("jew-town prices") it is easy to imagine that Madhubuti could have some less-than-progressive ideas about gender roles. And what of the Third World? A founder of Third World Press, Madhubuti expresses interest not only in the liberation of Africans, but the entire colonized world from white supremacist domination. However, he belittles the communist elements of the black liberation struggle, seemingly for abandoning their own people to "get it on" 1960s-style with Chinese women. And, perhaps worst of all, he has unkind words for The Beach Boys.

But enough of its message, because while this collection is intensely political and sadly still relevant to our age (though being a whi-te person, I'm probably not its intended audience), it's fine poetry to boot. Its style is unique, though sometimes unnecessary and exaggerated ("bom bom bom bom bom/bom/bom/bom/bombombombombombombombom"); Madhubuti's use of rhythm (or lack thereof) is jarring and mechanical in the best way. These poems are charged with an intensity that is difficult to achieve in the medium, and despite the grand themes they interject the flavors of everyday life into the call for militant struggle. It's very of-the-times without coming off as corny (most of the time - but I'm also a sucker for the ridiculousness of that era). Overall, I enjoyed this collection quite a bit, even if I found its message and style sometimes forced.

"blackpeople/are moving, moving to return/this earth into the hands of/human beings."