Inspiration

I find inspiration in so many different places. Sometimes that inspiration compels me to create, and other times that inspiration compels me simply to live more wholly.

My husband Gregory is the most beautiful inspiration that I can conceive. There is nothing sweeter than seeing his face in the morning, early while he is still sleeping, his chest rising and falling gently. He is a model of reinvention of self, and he makes me want to create images of hope.

My parents inspire me with their unwavering stability and support. My mom is beautiful and fierce while my dad is devoted and strong. Throughout their thirty-seven-year marriage, they have continued to nurture me in a way that keeps me blooming. I am so blessed to have them.

My brother Michael inspires me to laugh and lift. His dedication to the community pulls him into coaching and mentoring activities even though his work is constantly calling him. His laughter is contagious, compelling me to drop my front and to just be silly.

My eighty-five-year-old grandfather, who, with his sixth grade education, is the wisest man I know, inspires me. He’s inspired me to get as much education as I could while silently reminding me that just because one is not lettered does not mean that s/he is not learned.

My godparents, Odell and Mary Patterson, inspire me with their warmth. Until his death in October of 2000, my godfather walked in the Lord’s path, and his faith kept me grounded more than he could ever imagine. My godmother is the picture of finer womanhood. She never leaves the house without a fabulous hat, and even in her nineties, she can still whip up those melt-in-your-mouth biscuits that she sent to me during my college days at Hampton.

My students inspire me to see with my heart. Throughout my ten years as a high school teacher, I believe that I have been touched by my students as much as I’ve touched them. Lauren, Perry, Monique, Yolanda, Liza, Soha, Tyrus, Dynell, Tracy, Sean, Tomiwa, Celeste, Jacquan, Jessica, Keri, Lindsey, Olawumi, Ashley, "Musky," "Red," and a ton of other students I don’t have enough time or space to name have kept me fresh with their joyful optimism. They are “my kids,” and I cherish them. Seeing some of them limp into my classroom bearing fractured souls has made me want to create a world in which everyone cherishes children. Even if I only succeed in creating this utopia on paper, I need to see it. Someone said that giving birth is our only chance to assist God in a miracle. When I look into the faces of my 14, 15, 16, 17, and 18 year-old “crumb-snatchers,” I know it’s true.

Looking through the pages of the past, historical figures have inspired me. Former slave Booker T. Washington’s simple message of clearing one’s desk at the close of each day has helped me to maintain some semblance of sanity in my workspace. Educator Mary McLeod Bethune’s vision and foresight shows me that sacrifice for a larger cause is noble. Jamaican scribe Claude McKay teaches me that even protest can be dignified. I don’t think that we give enough credence to our elders. The way I figure, if someone has lived to reach a certain age, they must know something good. That goes back to what I wrote in SKY. Even in a pile of mush, there’s a kernel of truth.

Through doing the radio show, I’ve had the honor of speaking with a lot of authors after having read their works. Fiction and non-fiction works have left messages imprinted on my heart and soul. I’ve wept for Toni Morrison’s Pecola. I’ve applauded the three doctors (Sampson Davis, Rameck Hunt, and George Jenkins). I’ve admired Alice Walker’s Grange Copeland. I’ve empathized with RM Johnson’s Jayson. I believe that good literature is supposed to change the reader somehow, so it is my hope that readers will embrace Song and find inspiration in her.