Out of the Fog: A Christmas and New Year’s Wish

Posted on December 19, 2017 by Leslye Joy Allen (Ayọ)

Photo of Bank of America Building by
© Leslye Joy Allen

While driving in the early morning hours in my beloved city of Atlanta, I saw the usual signs of city growth: traffic that can make a Nun cuss, shiny new buildings, massive construction everywhere, people bustling off to work, school and the airport, and homeless people huddled under bridges.

When I witnessed the top of the super large Bank of America Building on Peachtree Street, its steeple-shaped illuminated top seemed to hang in the air in our unusually heavy fog. If I did not know anything about this building or if I was a kid with a vivid imagination, the sight of that lighted steeple would have given me the best fantasies of flying saucers and aliens.

As I took that quick snapshot of the top of the Bank of America Building it made me think of the Star in the East. Even when I looked at the top of this building and recognized it in the distance, I knew that what I saw was only one component of the building. Maybe it was the brightest component, certainly the top of it. But it wasn’t hanging in the air by itself. So here is something to think about:

Puerto Rico, Dominica and St. Johns, Virgin Islands still have no electricity. There will be no Christmas lights and there probably will be no lights on New Years’ Eve. These tan and brown and black human beings have been without power for over 14 weeks at this writing. And just like the homeless in downtown Atlanta, many folks stay on these islands to protect what little possessions that they have left after hurricanes. They take cold showers when they can, and eat food prepared from makeshift kitchens. You may not give a damn about any of this because it doesn’t directly affect you, but it actually does. You may not care about all of these people of color, but you will because they are necessary in ways you may never have imagined. Remember, no one gave a damn about a homeless brown couple–with the wife being very pregnant–in Bethlehem over two thousand years ago, either.

For much of the past year, many of us have whined and moaned about the current state of affairs in Washington, D. C. We have often exhausted ourselves with tales of political misconduct and malfeasance and sexual impropriety. We have listened to racist, sexist, homophobic, and misogynist rhetoric. And at times, I have to say, I wondered when (or if) anyone was going to get tired of feasting on all of it.

It’s not that these evil things don’t exist; they do! Yet, in our well-meaning attempts to publicize many of these problems, we often perpetuate our own lack of resolve to change any of it simply by believing that ranting about it on social media does anything more than help us blow off some steam. We often forget that much of this nation is built off and on the backs of people who now lay on the streets in cities all over the nation and throughout Latin America and the Caribbean. In 2018, let’s plan to get out and stay out of the fog long enought to recognize the rest of the building; and that the top cannot and never has stood without the support from all those floors and a steady foundation.

That’s it for the year folks. If you didn’t understand this post, I’m sorry, but that’s it. I’m tired, happy, at times anxious, exhilarated by our capacity to triumph, glad about the women who no longer ask permission to be great or to do the work they were born to do. I know we can change anything we want to change. But we can’t do any of it in a fog. Peace.

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I Owe Ted Turner and my Maternal Grandmother

Posted on October 12, 2017 by Leslye Joy Allen (Ayọ)

by Leslye Joy Allen

Back in the day in Atlanta, Ted Turner, the TV mogul, was keen on making sure television shows like Jacques Cousteau’s nature shows stayed on the air. Turner believed in the preservation of our natural environment. He drove an economy car and at one time he had an office without air conditioning. This was his contribution to not contributing to dirtying up our environment. When I was a teen, I thought he was just another eccentric White multi-millionaire. Yet, when I listened to his reasoning about cleaning up the environment, he made so much sense.

Now, my late maternal grandmother, Lorena Wilkes Wilson was born in 1886. She lived through the Atlanta Race Riot of 1906 when she was a student at Clark College (now Clark Atlanta University). I remember that sunny, warm, Fall day when I was in my teens. A large flock of birds swarmed our front yard. I heard them. “Some bad weather is coming,” Grandma said. “It’s probably going to snow,” she said. I looked at her confused, “Grandma, it’s almost seventy degrees outside. Where is the snow coming from?” She stared back. “The birds know. They plan for bad weather. So when you see a swarm of them, you can be sure some bad weather is on its way.” Well…

right after that week of unseasonably warm temperatures, the snow came just as Grandma predicted. A well-read, well-educated Black woman from a small Georgia town she was. I remembered that my grandmother was born before there were any weather men and women on TV. She relied on nature to tell her how to prepare for bad weather, when to plant, and how to dress. I also remembered how cool Ted Turner was talking about saving animal populations and not disturbing the food chain. Yet, I also remember people being turned off by things like recycling and driving economy, rather than luxury, cars. Most people I knew then really didn’t want to hear any of this.

As I currently watch reports about one hurricane after another, about how deforestation has destroyed our natural speed bumps, I am grateful to Grandma and Ted Turner. I wonder what people would think or say if I told them that I recently spoke with a scientist who told me that almost all of us are consuming tiny bits of plastic every time we eat seafood because we have dumped so much plastic on the ocean floor that the fish are now infested with much of this plastic. The scientist said there was a guy working on some technology to clean up that ocean dumping ground. Yet, I honestly hope that what I just wrote made you a little sick to your stomach.

I hope you will recycle your bottles and cans and papers rather than throw them in the trash. I hope you will think about the health and well-being of future generations. And I hope someday that one of your children or grandchildren writes about you and thanks you the way I have to thank Ted Turner and my maternal Grandmother. They both taught me to pay attention to and to respect all of creation on and in the only home we have; and to treat this home like the temporary home that it is and one that I must share with all of creation. I hope you will too! Àṣé!

I’m still not blogging as much for a while…So, you are welcome to read my older blogs until I return later (trust, there is some good stuff in my archives at my blog)…I have to get my dissertation finished, and blogging and responding to every little detail is not on the agenda…In the meantime, stay focused, and stay woke, and for God’s sake don’t fall for the easy answers because the news media is full of “easy answers.” Do your research. Think for yourself. Peace and Blessings. I will see you when I see you. — Leslye Joy Allen

Rituals, Theatre, and Transformative Goodness

Posted on February 6, 2017 by Leslye Joy Allen (Ayọ)

Adinkra symbol of transformation.

By Leslye Joy Allen

The first time I met theatre expert Paul Carter Harrison, he distinguished “theatre” from “drama” as theatre being the story that always contained some form of ritual and symbolism whereas drama simply told a story. It was a bit more complicated than that, but I still remember that discussion. It made me think of essays I read about how theatre began among us humans as rituals and performances designed to appease the gods or God. Theatre was birthed in belief, in belief in something higher and more potent than ourselves, and that we all had a responsibility to this entity or entities higher than ourselves. This thought has popped in my head off and on for the last two weeks…and today I think I discovered why this notion of ritual as theatre and theatre as ritual all designed to bring favor from the gods or God is so potent and timely…

Today I met a fiftyish White woman from Minnesota who told me that several cities in Minnesota solved their transportation problems by “building freeways through Black neighborhoods and business districts.” Then she said, “they destroyed those neighborhoods. There is a documentary about this but I can’t remember the name of it.” I then mentioned a former classmate who was writing his thesis about such a topic. She was genuinely angry about it and talked about how unethical it all was. “I’ll take Atlanta’s traffic to that kind of destruction any day of the week,” she said.

After she and I exchanged a few mutual comments about the late Minneapolis-born Prince, she asked me what was my discipline and I told her “History” and that my dissertation topic was about theatre. Then she mentioned the Penumbra Theatre in Saint Paul, Minnesota and our conversation was off to the races. I also had a conversation with a young man from South Africa that had moved here and lived on my side of town. “I love it, here!” he said. He and I had a conversation that ranged from the problems of the old South African government to recent politics to the status of women. He also mentioned that he had a hard time with sexism since everyone came from the body of a woman. I reiterated that I always meet talented, respectful young Black people every single day. So what does this have to do with theatre and rituals?

Here is something I would like you to think about, and it ties in with theatre as ritual, and the rituals found in theatre and everyday life. When one attends the theatre, one typically leaves with a different perspective. No one leaves a theatre the same way that they came in. Sitting in the dark of that theatre and watching performers suspend reality and portray characters other than themselves is in and of itself a ritual for performer and audience member alike. One is literally transformed by witnessing what is done on stage. One can get into the habit of going to the theatre, but a ritual is not a habit. A habit is something you do almost by reflex, almost involuntarily, and it may or may not have any particular benefit to you. You just do it because, well, you’re in the habit of doing it; and that might not be a bad thing, but a habit does not originate from the same source as a ritual.

A ritual is deliberately done; it follows a deliberate pattern in order to produce specific results. Rituals create order, or at least make us feel that there is some order to the universe and the world we inhabit even in the midst of chaos, which is why human beings created rituals in the first place; and also why human beings can become so alarmed when certain rituals are not followed to the letter.

Today I discovered my own ritual. Someone asked me how I end up having these stimulating conversations with people who are often complete strangers like the woman from Minnesota and the young man from South Africa. Well, maybe it is because I don’t really meet strangers. Yet, it is also due to my determination to not become a news junkie that feeds on bad news and controversy. And to avoid bad news and controversy these days, one must deliberately turn off the television and internet and smart phone, and look for the truth, or at least find some balance between the real truth and the truth that is often manufactured for us. So consider this…

The word “theatre” comes from a Greek word meaning “the seeing place.” The seeing place was where you went to witness performers deliver the truth and wisdom. Well, the truth is that, in spite of what you see in the media, there are so many nice, thoughtful people out there. Most of these people will never be on the news. You have to look for them where you are; and you often find what you deliberately look for. Make that a ritual. Àṣé.

A Few Hyperlinks…

Posted on January 17, 2017 by Leslye Joy Allen (Ayọ)

by Leslye Joy Allen

I have to thank my academic and theatre families for reminding me that what I say and do matters more than I think it does. They remind me to keep pressing on. For those that asked, here are the archived hyperlinks to some segments of WABE’s Closer Look with Rose Scott and Jim Burress that I participated in as an Atlanta historian and as a native Atlantan of my beloved hometown. Just click on any of the titles/hyperlinks below and then scroll down to listen to these archived programs on SoundCloud. Thanks to all of you for your support. Enjoy!

June 6, 2016: Closer Look: Emory’s New President; Muhammad Ali; And More

August 12, 2016: History and Rebirth of Manuel’s Tavern

Sept. 22. 2016: Closer Look Special: How The 1906 Race Riot Changed Atlanta

Jan. 3, 2017: Closer Look: Kasim Reed’s Legacy; Community Planning; And More

March 2, 2107: Morning Edition: Can We Communicate History Better During Black History Month?

Sacred Places

Posted on December 5, 2016 by Leslye Joy Allen (Ayọ)

By Leslye Joy Allen

Tropical Blue Ocean Water (public domain)

I was among the people supremely delighted at the decision of the Army Corps of Engineers to halt any further construction of the Dakota Pipeline on Sunday, December 4, 2016 until further study of its environmental impact on the water supply in that area. I am not going to preach about the fact that eventually that pipeline would have negatively affected the water supply. You can read my previous blog “A Time of Drought,” to get an idea.

For environmentalists, like myself, this was an incredible victory because for the first time, in a long time, the environment was front and center. The many Native American nations, along with military servicemen and women, environmentalists, and peoples from around the globe were involved in this protest. Often protests of this nature compete with news stories about who-wore-what to some awards show or the endless stories that moan and groan about things some people obviously have no intention of doing anything about, else they would not spend so much time moaning and groaning about them in the first place…

This time something as precious as water was at the forefront; and access to clean water is something that everyone can understand, even when they are less informed about other matters related to the environment…

Now, what I am about to say here might stun a few folks…

What a lot of people often fail to recognize is that in almost every instance where the earth or air or water has been disturbed or polluted, whether it is to extract oil or some other resource or to build some structure, there has almost always been some violation of the sacred, some disturbing of something that meant something precious to someone or to some group of people…

For my Atlanta readers, you might know, or might need reminding, that underneath a portion of Interstate 75-South lies an old cemetery filled with the graves of Black folks, our brothers and sisters. Where Interstate 75-South meets Cleveland Avenue lies a marble marker that designates the graves of roughly 1,700 former slaves who were buried in Gilbert Cemetery which had been created as a burial place for slaves in the early 1840s.

Because the area around this grave came to be known as “Plunkett Town” which was still occupied by poor, rural Blacks as late as the 1960s, the graveyard there did not illicit much concern until work crews from the Georgia Department of Transportation discovered the damaged burial grounds while building Interstate 75. By the time of the discovery, the graves had already been disturbed, and the plans and money to build that highway were already in place. No one considered the graveyards to be more important than building a much-needed highway. What has been left there is a marker letting people who bother to look know that they are driving over a graveyard…

This is exactly what we all have been doing to Native Americans’ sacred sites ever since Europeans arrived on these shores, eventually and forcibly transporting millions of Africans here to perform heavy labor as slaves…

This is not a moral judgement, but rather food for thought. Too often we—and that includes environmentalists as well, and I am just as guilty—do not think of water as anything other than something that will come out of a faucet when we turn that faucet on. And as long as we can pay our Water Bill, we seem assured that when we turn that knob, water will come out…

But go pour a glass of water. Look at it! Say a prayer to it! Respect it!

The Standing Rock protest that has temporarily halted the Dakota Pipeline might not have converted any new environmentalists; I know too well from experience that a lot of people do not want to be inconvenienced in any way, even if that small inconvenience will help clean up the environment, or at least slow down the toxicity of the natural environment…

Yet, we all need to stay on guard because this battle may come up again as a new president moves into the White House in January 2017. However, for the time being, recognize what this protest and this small victory has made us all pay attention to: respect for the dead and for the most precious resource on earth: water. If you are not humbled by this, I do not know what else to tell you except that you will eventually be humbled by this, whether you want to be or not.

Àṣé.”

Leslye Joy Allen

Social Commentary, History, Theatre, Jazz, and the Environment

Category Archives: Atlanta