Walking down Washington street, I found myself surrounded by my ancestors. I walked by an older man standing outside of what I assumed to be his business, he stared me up and down as I walked toward him. As I approached the man, he extended a closed fist, “Brotha Man…” I walk by and dap the man’s hand. I feel as if I’ve been given a stamp of approval. Growing up in San Bernardino, I was very aware of the “ills of the community” and how my parents did their best to not raise me around those specific surroundings. Out of that has come a type of paranoia surrounding my identity and my community. Growing up, I was called “White Washed” for talking properly or not “acting black”. This, in turn, has left me feeling invaluable in certain areas. This, mixed with my existential paranoia has prolled my social anxiety to a point that enables me to feel comfortable around people. Coming into my own identity as a black creative, I feel responsible to shine a light on people and movements that are pushing our culture forward. Enter, NoName.
NoName is an incredible artist from Chicago with a proclivity for words and home-cooked meals; preferably Vegan. Her words reflect the aesthetics of her childhood and the community that raised her. Famously, she took to her Twitter page to express her feelings towards the music industry and the consumers of her art, a mostly white audience who “support” her music but treat her as an Other and diminish her experiences.
This was met with extreme criticism, from all sides. Black fans voiced their concerns about not getting any more music and critiqued her decision to take a step away from a toxic system, which is a microcosm of the country we live in. NoName dedicated herself to gaining as much knowledge from like-minded writers who have battled with the same oppressive system. After sharing what she’s learned and de-programming what this capitalist society teaches us; she decided to “quit music” to focus on her new venture, NoName’s Book Club.
The Book Club focuses on books from POC writers whose contents are tethered by their consistent expression about the constraints of the system. They highlight two books each month and hold a meet up where members can come in and discuss the works of the month. I had the privilege to attend the meet up in Los Angeles. I walked into the Reparations Club to a crowd of caramel and chocolate faces turn and look up at me. I nod, and they continue to introduce themselves as I find a chair in the back. The Club is founded and ran by Jazzi McGilbert, a former fashion editor. The place feels like Home and smells like my grandmother’s living room. I’m sitting next to a collection of hair care and beauty products proudly stating who they’re for.
After the mic had been passed around and everyone had introduced themselves and a book that inspired them; the guest of Honor, Morgan Parker began taking questions from her book, “Magical Negro”. She was vulnerable and energetic, eager to learn and give information. A discussion about mixed relationships was catalyzed from a question about her poem, “Matt”. Ironically enough, a white man mistakenly walked into the meeting and almost immediately turned around and walked out. “Matt!” shouted Morgan. The room erupted into an Apollo theatre-like roar. Synchronicity only the universe can bring. After a while, it’s time for Morgan to read excerpts of her book. She preludes by saying she’s unable to read one due to personal trials. The room snaps their fingers as she’s finishing each work. Her last poem is titled, “Now More Than Ever.” Before she reads it, she says that she usually ends the poem in a very dramatic way and that she’ll restrain herself for this crowd. The poem essentially is about Time and blacks’ role as the Other. It meditates on the importance of “Now” and how White people view black struggles through a Schrodinger-like lense. The struggle isn’t happening “now”. It always has and always will happen. Morgan ends with the phrase, “whereas it would appear that the Negro must live the life of the Negro ever, now, and ever and ever and ever…” In the work, the words, “ever and ever” fade into what seems like forever. In the small room, Morgan is repeating, “ever and ever” for 70seconds. The room applauds.
They also discussed “Sister Outsider” by Audre Lorde. This brought a topic that many felt strongly about; struggle and it’s inheritance. An exchange ensued after a member voiced their opinion on black struggle and how that has become an ingredient in the successes of the community. Essentially expressing that we should be grateful for all of the stress because it makes us great. This was a fascinating thing to see. The member was clearly in the minority but instead of chastising and embarrassing the member; they offered their point of view of why they believe that thinking is dangerous and wrong. It was great to see them want to inform and not just allow them to continue in that thinking. After the discussion, NoName calls it a wrap and readies for a group picture. Afterward, the room bustles with chatter and laughter. Members are introducing themselves to each other and getting their books signed by Morgan.
I approach NoName and thank her for all of the work she’s doing and asked if I could ask her a couple of questions. She agrees and says she has to mingle a bit but if I’m down to wait, she’ll be happy to. I immediately say yes and start writing down questions in my notes. She approaches me and asks if we can do it outside, “of course”, I replied. I try to steady my shaky hands as I look at my notes and ask her about the difficulties she’s been dealing with in regards to starting book programs in prisons for POCs. In the meeting, she mentioned how she was discussing the rules with the prison and that everything was fine until she mentioned that the reading material would be specifically for black inmates. “Absolutely not” was their reply. The reasoning was that they felt the white inmates would feel discriminated against. On the street, she explained that although it’s a lot of hard work and very taxing, she’s committed and focused on her goal of bringing book club to prisons all over the country. She’s aware of the uphill battle to educate black men in prisons and is constantly finding new avenues that will accomplish that goal.
I ask if her upcoming tour, “The Hypocrite Tour” would incorporate any of the Book Club elements. She laughs and says “No.” Stating it’s just a small 4 show tour and that she’s learned to keep her art separate from her social work. I ask if she plans on fulfilling her promise of “quitting after Factory Baby”. Again, she laughs and says “…I really don’t know, man.” She thinks for a moment and says that it doesn’t feel the same anymore. Being in the industry has shown her ugly truths she’s not comfortable with participating in. She states that being a writer, she doesn’t feel like she’s going to stop rapping because it’s something she loves doing but her focus right now education and enlightenment within the community. Morgan then walks out of the Club and is stopped by NoName to take some pictures before she leaves.
They embrace warmly and thank each other for their respective works. Morgan walks to her car and NoName informs me that she’s needed inside and couldn’t take any more questions. I thank her again for her service to the community and for taking the time to talk to me. I walk around the Club, taking it all in before I have to depart. I thank Jazzi for providing a space for Us where events like this can take place and wish her well.
I’m truly grateful for NoName and her team for being proactive in the community. Actively working with fellow black creatives to inform them of heritage, legacy, and power. She’s achieved a lot since August 2019 and her plans are becoming more and more grandiose. I cannot wait to see what NoName has planned for her career and her Book Club.
You can join NoName’s Book Club!
You can read all of the Club’s books of the month!
You can follow NoName’s Books Club on Twitter!
You can follow NoName on Twitter!
Author: Dwayne Jackson
Twitter
Medium Page