[a conversation with the ignorant black.]

As explored previously within Borders, Bridges, and Boundaries, poetry can act as a contact zone as well as a bridge between cultures. Through reading The Wind Shifts, we as an audience gained the ability to learn a little about the Hispanic and Latino cultures through the portrayal given by the various artists. The poems included comprised of various opinions of cultures, from embracing the Latino heritage, to rejecting assimilation, as well as a general confusion on being on the "in between." By reading this particular anthology, the intended population gains an insight on the struggles within the Spanish-speaking community, allowing the people to form a connection and thus eroding the xenophobic barrier that has evolved and continuously reinforced with every terrorist attack. A similar education has been created and reinforced with A Capella,  a collection of Mennonite poems.

I must admit, I did not know what to expect when I first picked up this particular anthology. Previous to attending Goshen College, I had never even heard of--never mind encountered--a Mennonite before. Upon doing a little bit of basic research, I discovered that they seemed to be conservative individuals who held peace as a strong value, as well as volunteer work, in order to become as Christ-like as possible. It seemed simple enough, and so with attending the college, my presumptions seemed to be accurate. When I attended my peace-making seminar class, that is when I learned that there wasn't just one group of Mennonites-- in fact, there are a number of subcultures, varying the spectrum from erratically liberal to excessively conservative. In addition, the traditions changed by state as well as by the original country one's family emigrated from. These changes are reflected in A Capella as well, ranging from Julia Kasdorf's "Mennonites" to David Wright's "A New Mennonite Replies to Julia Kasdorf." There are even strange and "forbidden" concepts to write about, like Di Brandt's "nonresistance, or love Mennonite style." No matter what the case, I was shown time and time again that even though the Mennonite culture is a culture far different from my own, there was something for me to learn, understand, and eventually love. The poetry acts as a bridge and allows me to make connections between something that is completely foreign to me, and something I know very well: my identity and values.

So in writing my own poem based off a form discussed in A Capella, I found it easiest to take the Jeff Gundy route. My first drafts began with mere imitations of "How to Write the New Mennonite Poem," and I thought it best to focus on the length of the poem, as it focuses on a number of references made by Julia Kasdorf in her "Mennonites." However, upon the third or fourth draft, I discovered this was not the case. It was simply too difficult to explain everything about an African American, especially when there is not one clear view of the race. Instead, when I decided to focus on one particular subset (in this case, the rude and ignorant African Americans who are subject to today's stereotypes and actively fulfill them), I found it much easier to write, and thus it brings me to this draft. I am sure as of this moment it is still incomplete, but considering that my audience (in this case, my peers) seemed to be able to relate in some context, I feel that I may have reached my goal. Within my poem, I am writing as both an outsider and an insider. I am providing inclusive criticism to my own ethnicity and the contradictions that exist within it. The plight of the modern African American is having to choose between remaining ignorant to stay accepted by the culture, or to embrace education and diversity and thus be considered the ultimate evil, White

And my poem is as follows:

Oftentimes, we remember to write about Martin Luther King, Jr.
How he saved us from tyranny and oppression,
singlehandedly delivering us from segregation with talks of “I have a dream!”
If we’re lucky, we might remember Rosa Parks and
sitting on the bus makes us no slave of the white man. 

The white man made us who we are,
stealing us from Africa and placing us here in America.
Let’s pretend that the temptation for guns and new technology
didn’t make us sell each other out.
It’s not like we’re reliving our past mistakes right now. 

In fact, let’s blame everything on Caucasian authority.
They’re the whole reason why we can’t get a job.
The only things we can do in life are play golf, slam dunk, and shoot bullets.
Females can pop babies and get welfare, too.
Don’t forget the child support. 

Celebrities are made when you go on Maury or Jerry Springer,
not so much when you graduate from high school or stay abstinent.
As long as you praise Jesus, you can get away with almost anything.
Except, of course, being white.
God forbid you act white. 

And that can happen if you commit the following sins:
You use that “white people speak.”
You dress conservatively instead of “showing those curves.”
You prefer to straighten your hair rather than keeping it natural.
But most importantly, you don’t “get your nails done and your hair did.” 

If you appreciate anything as a Black,
know that you will not take anything from the White man!
You will not take his stereotypes, his ignorance, or his name-calling.
Nor will you take his jobs, his education, his family, or his stability.
You will stay in the negative, where you belong.