Poetry Slam Keeps King Legacy Alive

Memories of the Children’s Crusade. A vision of alien visitations in the future. Invocations of superheroes. Fist-raising calls for change. These were all part of the 28th annual Z Experience Poetry Slam on Monday, part of the Yale Peabody Museum’s celebration of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.‘s legacy of social and environmental justice.

It capped two days of free events at the Peabody’s facilities and the New Haven Museum, supported by the state Department of Energy and Environmental Protection and Citizens Bank.

The event began with an open mic nimbly hosted by poet Croilot that aptly reminded everyone in attendance what the day’s celebration was for. 

In introducing his poems, Malcolm Ashley, who graduated from Yale in 1981, explained that his father had been a veterinarian, a rare example of a successful Black businessman in the South ​“at the height of American apartheid,” he said. ​“When the Klan came to kill my father and us,” it was Martin Luther King, Jr. and others who alerted federal authorities to the dangers Ashley’s father faced, and who got the family protection. Years later, when Ashley attended Yale, he recalled critics saying he was ​“not fit to be here.” As a rebuttal, he beamed as he looked across the audience in the crowded auditorium. ​“You are all beautiful, and this is beautiful,” he said.

He recalled being a part of The Children’s Crusade, and being told then that ​“what you do will liberate future generations.” He saw some evidence in the room that some of that had come to pass, even as ​“the struggle continues,” he said. The poem he read reflected this long personal experience. ​“We must fight for America by fighting for justice,” he said. ​“Let’s have more words and less bullets.”

One reader read a poem about living under the burdens of the stereotypes associated with Black men, both in the way people feared him and in the ways he was not allowed to show his feelings. Another reader delivered an ode to Coretta Scott King. Another poem dealt with the concept of time, and how in traditional African societies, time is sometimes perceived as happening all at once. He imagined a future in which reparations occurred, and America became a White-minority country, and aliens finally made contact (“you’re surprised they’re Black”). Yet another poet explored the history of racism and colonialism. There was a poem riffing on a deck of cards (“if his mind is on the club, he’s not ready for a queen; if she’s looking for diamonds, she’s not ready for a king”) and another about the fear of passing another generational trauma to unborn children. A few poems argued for peace.

New Haven-based poet J‑Sun took a minute to say that ​“I believe Dr. King is with us, and if he saw this now, he’d be happy.”

Poet, musician, and host Ngoma then took the stage to begin the official slam. He explained the rules. The poets would be competing for $1,000. The competition would last three rounds, with a couple poets eliminated in each round. The poets had three minutes to complete their poems. Five judges would grade their performance on a scale of one to 10, Olympic style; their scores would be determined by throwing out the lowest and highest scores and adding up the middle three. Without further ado, the slam began.

Jaden Alexander started off the slam with a poem about the dangers he faced as a Black man from inside and outside his community. ​“Why can’t I grow old?” he asked. ​“It’s funny how red, white, and blue represents freedom until they start aiming at you / Let me guess — you don’t have a daddy neither.” His score of 27.4 set the bar high.

Yex came out with a poem about how she should have named her daughter Amber, after amber alerts, but then doubled back on that. ​“If I named you Amber they would have renamed you Medusa,” she said. ​“I should have named you Amber, but you are much more precious than a stone.”

T’Challa Williams entered the fray with a poem about the point of poetry. ​“Disruption is the purpose of art,” she said, and went on to call out those who went only halfway. ​“You social media loud, but I never see you in any crowd,” she said. ​“That beat that you hear is the warriors calling. What are you waiting for?” Her call to revolution charmed the crowd, but ran a little over time. With a penalty applied, she got a score of 27.5.

Lyrical Faith came out swinging. Her poem about Black women and the entwined histories of racism, medicine, and birth control (“We were forced to give birth to the science of gynecology”) landed hard on White women suddenly upset that their reproductive rights had been taken away with the overturning of Roe v Wade. ​“Welcome,” she said, ​“we’ve been expecting you.” Her fiery performance earned her a nearly perfect score of 29.4.

Ray Jane had a poem about the killing of Black people and the spiritual toll it took to bear it. ​“Convince me to be privileged that we are still living,” she said, while watching the deaths of others on cell phones. Mark Lippman decried fascism in a burst of allyship. James Ellerbe riffed on the phrase ​“strange matter” to tease out a poem about race relations. 

Slangston Hughes called out poets who preached one thing and did another, and who pulled their punches for the sake of furthering their career. He mixed in the titles of TV shows throughout. ​“Nobody wants to be Malcolm in the middle of Harlem,” he said. ​“When it comes to political issues, you’re just Black-ish.” He concluded: ​“I will always love poetry and I’ll always love people, but I think I’ve had enough of poetry people.” His raucous performance pleased the crowd and the judges, but went over time, giving him a score of 28.6.

Goddess Tymani Rain emerged as the winner of the first round, however, with a full-throated call for revolution that also succeeded in addressing seemingly all the issues of the day at once. She brought down the house. The audience response made her perfect score of 30 almost mandatory, and the judges obliged.

The second round saw the field of nine poets narrowed to six. Yex described an encounter with Jesus, bringing home the idea that his teachings are more radical than most of his followers are comfortable with. James Ellerbe reminded the crowd that everyone is a superhero. ​“Let no one steal your cape,” he said. Ray Jane offered a poignant metaphor of Americans as the cringing children of an abusive parent who wrought havoc abroad while poisoning the kids at home. Lyrical Faith dove into code-switching when talking to Black and White people, describing it as being bilingual, ​“like living in the same world with two different tongues.” Goddess Tymani Rain got into the darker side of entertainment. ​“If I get casted in a casket, make sure you share the video,” she said. ​“The only difference between suicide and martyrdom is press coverage.”

Slangston Hughes, however, earned a perfect score for a poem about a game he and his daughter played when they were tired of being ground down by racism. ​“Fuck White things,” he said, from Elvis to half of soccer balls to sour cream to an unedited Google doc. The crowd — regardless of race — dissolved into laughter at the absurdity that also underlined a serious point. Going into the third and final round, Hughes was now the poet to beat.

With four poets remaining, Lyrical Faith dug into lessons she learned in the protests of 2020.

Ray Jane sallied forth with an expression of Black pride.

Goddess Tymani Rain talked about the exhaustion of dealing with Black trauma without anyone seemingly trying to change it.

And Slangston Hughes ended on a note of sincerity, about learning to love yourself. HIs heartfelt performance worked like his comedy did, earning another perfect score and first place in the slam. As Ngoma said, quoting the title of his own book of poetry, ​“I didn’t come here to tap dance.” By hitting hard and digging in deep, the poets in the Z Experience slam reminded everyone of the importance of honoring Dr. King’s legacy, and continuing his work toward a fairer world.