Two well-respected poets, Gil Fagiani (1945-2018) and Ntozake Shange (1948-2018) who contributed to 2Leaf Press recently passed away. While their work was aesthetically different, they shared one commonality, that is, to create meaningful humane stories that connect to readers. As they each leave behind a lasting legacy in letters and literary activism, they will be truly missed.
In the few short years of 2Leaf Press (six years to be precise), in addition to our 2LP authors, we have published over 190 contributors in our anthology series, 2LP EXPLORATIONS IN DIVERSITY. So, as you can imagine, it’s difficult to keep track of the comings and goings of all of our writers.
So I was surprised and sorry to hear of the passing of Queens-based poet, essayist and activist Gil Fagiani on April 12, 2018, at the age of 72. He was a contributor to WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE WHITE IN AMERICA (2016), and BLACK LIVES HAVE ALWAYS MATTERED (2017). Gil became known to me during my brief association with Maria Mazziotti Gillan in the mid-nineties as part of a core group of writers who are dedicated to documenting and writing about the Italian-American immigrant experience.
Italian-Americans are rarely thought of as civil rights activists, but it was Gil’s early exposure to racism and anti-Italian bias, coupled with the attitudes of his enlightened mother that would come to influence his later devotion to activism and multiculturalism, and ultimately, poetry. Actually, he wrote some very good poetry. His book, A Blanquito in El Barrio – A White Boy in Spanish Harlem, is an excellent collection of poems from 1966 through 1969 that offer a rarefied view of Puerto Rican culture in East Harlem by a white guy from Connecticut who was an addict/activist. It provides a survey of sixties New York and the drug scene that characterized it, as well as impressions of immigrant life. In fact, the immigrant life of the Nuyoricans that Gil wrote so poignantly about in this volume, would eventually lead him to revisit his own Italian immigrant roots. As one reviewer put it, “A Blanquito in El Barrio is that rare good thing name— a necessary good book.” For Gil, it appears that it was more than just a book, it was a way of seeing the world, head on. He spent the latter part of his life mapping these different cultural experiences with Italians, blacks, Puerto Ricans and yes, even drug addicts, into literary spaces of poetry and prose. I suppose it is also probably the reason why he saw fit to become a founding member of Italian Americans for a Multicultural United States (IAMUS).
Gil Fagiani’s poetry collections.
So I must confess that I was somewhat surprised when he submitted work for WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE WHITE IN AMERICA – good poets do not necessarily make good prose writers – but as usual, Gil defied convention. In his piece, “What Does It Mean to Be White in America: My Multi-Metamorphoses,” Gil brings to the fore his trademark poetic skills: harrowing stories with unadulterated honesty that challenge not only himself, but the human condition in an accessible language that makes readers uncomfortable. Squirming in their seats. Forcing some of them to confront themselves. Forcing them to see the world “head on.” I remember my co-editor, Sean Frederick Forbes and I immediately accepted his work for the book.
Gil’s poem, “Miss Johnson is Dead,” which appeared in BLACK LIVES HAVE ALWAYS MATTERED, was selected by the editor, Abiodun Oyewole (who insisted on including poetry in this volume), because of its simplicity in the telling of a story. More importantly, while Gil exemplified the irony of Miss Johnson’s life, he did not degrade her or her humanity, rather, he recognized the value of the “ordinariness” of her life. It is this bare bone honesty seen through a third eye that cannot be learned or acquired, it is something that comes from deep within, a human characteristic surely lacking in the world we live in today.
Writers write and publish to be remembered; for some it is an obsession, with many of them leaving behind poorly written and/or forgotten works. Thank goodness Gil has left behind a meaningful body of well-written work; poems and prose that expose and challenge the human condition to be read and studied for years to come.
My belated condolences to his wife Maria, his family and friends.
Poet, performance artist, playwright, and novelist Ntozake Shange passed away on October 27, 2018. Aged 70, she died in her sleep at an assisted living facility in Bowie, Maryland. She had been ill for a long time, having suffered a series of strokes in 2004. Even though Ntozake had trouble speaking and moving about, she remained optimistic by creating new work. In fact, Jesús Papoleto Meléndez had contacted her to write a blurb caption for his forthcoming book, PAPOLiTICO, and then she called me to verify the edits. I still have the message Ntozake left me about the his book.
If anyone were to ask me who my favorite black women poets are, Ntozake Shange would be on the top of my short list. In the mid-seventies, as the Black Arts Movement was gasping its last breath, Ntozake bounded onto the scene as this unconventional young black feminist who wrote and performed poetry. If Lorraine Hansberry belonged to the older generation, Ntozake belonged to me. When she was performing snippets of her poems in New York City, I had gotten a hold of the first mimeographed version of what would become her award winning play, for colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf. When the book finally published in 1977, I wandered all over lower Manhattan to find the book because it had quickly sold out. I learned and performed her poems at the local dance company in my neighborhood (Corona-East Elmhurst in Queens), and saw her play at the Booth Theater at least three times. This play, for colored girls, was unlike anything I had ever read or seen, and was totally relatable. Calling it a “choreopoem” — a term Ntozake coined to describe her groundbreaking dramatic form that combined poetry, dance, music, and song — it became an instant classic. Performed by an ensemble of seven black women, the play is comprised of monologues, movement, and poems that together describe the pain and struggle women face because of racism and sexism. I was a hard core fan.
A sampling of for colored girls theater posters and artwork.
Ntozake would go on to win several awards, including the Obie Award, Outer Critics Circle Award, and the AUDELCO Award. for colored girls, which premiered in 1976 and was Ntozake’s first work and most acclaimed theater piece, has been continuously performed in colleges and universities, art spaces, and theaters throughout the world.
To be honest, I did not care for the film adaptation, but did keep up with some of her other works, like Spell No. 7 and Nappy Edges, but they would not have the same effect that for colored girls had on me. Besides writing, Ntozake would teach at numerous universities throughout her career and was the recipient of honors and awards including fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, the Lila Wallace-Reader’s Digest Fund, and a Pushcart Prize.
Although we knew some of the same people and knew of each other, I never met Ntozake. But I didn’t have to meet her, and have no regrets one way or the other. It’s because I met her through her poetry, music and dance, which is the reason why writers write, to share a sense of themselves, which really shined in her work. Equally important, Ntozake was a champion of black women and girls, and in her trailblazing, she expanded the sense of what was possible for other black female artists. In her passing, she will be remembered for her generous support of a number of organizations and artists as well as a voluminous body of work that includes plays, novels, poetry collections and children’s books, which no doubt will remain a vital part of the American literary canon.
