Poetic Tongues/Fabu
Blended Histories
Designated months where we, as Americans, focus on specific celebrations that are not included in everyday life, give us a deeper level of introspection and understanding about their deliberate omission. When we have entire months centered on one subject, it indicates that important history/herstory is missing from a holistic American education. All people living in this country have contributed to the well-being of America. February is Black History Month. March is Woman’s History Month. April is Poetry Month. I am a Black Woman Poet.
I take particular pleasure in these three months, following the beginning of a fresh New Year, as a rare and glorious opportunity to honor the unique pieces of myself, and to explore facts about who I really am alongside other Black people, other women, and other poets. I name myself as Black first, woman second and poet third. Truthfully, the order of my complex identities’ changes throughout the years from childhood to adulthood.
I was born in Mississippi, and as a baby, traveled with my parents across the country for my dad’s military assignments, I was my name, Phillis. I only knew myself as Phillis, when I looked at my face in a mirror and lived a few young years inside a little body. As a little girl, my parents gave me tremendous gifts, My parents gave me love, safety, laughter, faith, along with providing my basic needs for food, shelter, clothing and to continuously be able to think, pray and learn. There was stability in our home, until I was twelve, when my father left for Viet Nam.
These benefits were never easy for Black parents to acquire for themselves nor to hand down to their children. Their own education, careers and personal lives, were extremely limited by systematic segregation, especially in the 1930’s and 1940’s when they were born. That my parents and your parents sacrificed to hand us legacies of resilience, success and better lives is miraculous. I did not realize in early childhood that I was a color first and that others would think of me as inferior, because of the color of my skin. I did not know this, nor was I injured by it because my family was a protective shield.
I was aware, from 6 to 12 years, that I was limited as a girl by not being allowed to do everything boys, particularly my brother, could do. There was a set of rules that I was made to follow only because “you are a girl.” This was hard since it bothered my sense of fairness as I was first born. Why should my younger brother be able to have more freedom than me? I also grew up in the “ wear dresses” generation. Although I like dresses, I still wanted to run, jump and be physical. while wearing a dress, which was not approved as “lady like.” I am happy that decades later, my great niece wears shorts under her dresses so that she can like dresses but not exposing her underwear, while she is jumping, dancing, whirling around as a happy girl child. Her innocence and her freedom are preserved.
As a teenager and young adult, I identified as Black first. I chose to elevate this part of me as a symbol of pride and a barrier against skin hatred. As an adult, I learned the significance of my parents giving me a childhood foundation where I had the encouragement to think profoundly, be creative, and pursue an education about the truth of Black people. I am full of faith and vision because of them and proud of who I have matured to be. I studied Afro-American and African Literature, and African Languages and Literature because my parents treasured intellect and education and I wanted to research our origins. I promised my mother I would finish the PhD I started at UW Madison, after completing two master’s degrees here. Instead, I extended my knowledge further by completing a PhD at the University of Nairobi in African Women’s Studies. As an older adult, I am uniquely Fabu Phillis.
As for poetry, I was born a poet, just like I was born a Black girl /woman. Writing in general, and poetry specifically, is the thread that binds all the intricacies of myself together. As I move towards being in the community of our beloved elders, I continue to define myself as Black Woman Poet while prioritizing my identity as a mother. This is Women’s History Month and an invitation to take time to explore one’s gender and the specialness that comes with who you are. If you are not a woman, this is an invitation to explore the blessings that girls/women bring to your life and have contributed to every aspect of this country.