Transcript

I’m Major Jackson and this is The Slowdown.

I’ve a friend from my youth in North Philadelphia who is a successful hip-hop dancer, choreographer, and teacher. Rennie Harris and I don’t see each other frequently, maybe once every decade. When we do, before we fully greet each other, we give each other, what I now call, The Look. Here’s The Look: an old friend recognizes you, and suddenly stops mid-stride, leans back, then cuts their face into an expressive grimace. Everything is inside that grimace. Their eyes squint and lips press together. It looks like they are in pain or that they smell something awful, but actually, it’s a bluesy expression of fascination, one of disbelief, joy, and affection. They might even be… studying you. The Look then continues with a quick beseeching glance left and right, as if they are searching for someone else to take stock of the moment, then they return their gaze back to you. The Look is topped off with a hearty greeting of daps and hugs.

My friend Rennie and I grew up facing serious challenges in our neighborhood, mainly drugs and its resultant violence, which damaged the people we loved and took the lives of others. We look on each other as survivors which sweetens our reunions. We reconnected most recently after his dance company performed in the fall at a contemporary art center here in Nashville.

I know what it took for him to come into his own, not only as an artist, but what it took for him to secure his spirit through his art, particularly against all that could dehumanize and diminish his existence.

That’s the nature of our longest friendships; friends bear witness to our wounds and scars. They know we toughed it out against our own unique battles. The pure miracle of our existence is a testament to our resilience. It’s also the outcome of the love and support we’ve received, which sometimes our persistence hides.

As pandemic restrictions and fears eased, I saw many reunions take place where family members and friends doled out The Look, joyous expressions that said I’m happy you’ve endured. The Looks became soft and caring; the brief moments of speechlessness and awe were poignant and moving.

Today’s poem states a truth about turbulent times. After the sadness, fear, and uncertainty, a group of us will inevitably feel that distinct feeling of having surmounted some great hardship, a suffering that makes life precious, and our friends, treasured. And may I suggest, that to follow this episode, you might queue up “Survivor” by Destiny’s Child.

La Peste
by Marilyn Nelson

In the era of raining boys, a steady downpour
all shapes and sizes of Africans, Asians;
in the era of suicidal pleasure, of shooting-up
oblivion; in the era of handwringing research,
of children exing out father, mother, older sister,
neighbor, teacher, friend; in this era, they will say,
the worst epidemic by far was the gallop of evil
that overtook our kind like the virus from hell.
Its dragon breath passed from heart to heart,
engulfing whole continents with superiority, unwise 
knowledge, and despair. It walked roughshod; it left
a black swath. But here we are, they will say,
shaking their heads with humble awe as others did
after the Black Death, after the Holocaust: Survivors.

“La Peste” by Marilyn Nelson from THE FIELDS OF PRAISE, © 1997 Marilyn Nelson. Used by permission of Louisiana State University Press.