Black Oak Read online

  Publisher’s Note

  Rendering poetry in a digital format presents several challenges, just as its many forms continue to challenge the conventions of print. In print, however, a poem takes place within the static confines of a page, hewing as close as possible to the poet’s intent, whether it’s Walt Whitman’s lines stretching to the margin like Route 66, or Robert Creeley’s lines descending the page like a string tie. The printed poem has a physical shape, one defined by the negative space that surrounds it—a space that is crafted by the broken lines of the poem. The line, as vital a formal and critical component of the form of a poem as metaphor, creates rhythm, timing, proportion, drama, meaning, tension, and so on.

  Reading poetry on a small device will not always deliver line breaks as the poet intended—with the pressure the horizontal line brings to a poem, rather than the completion of the grammatical unit. The line, intended as a formal and critical component of the form of the poem, has been corrupted by breaking it where it was not meant to break, interrupting a number of important elements of the poetic structure—rhythm, timing, proportion, drama, meaning, and so on. It’s a little like a tightrope walker running out of rope before reaching the other side.

  There are limits to what can be done with long lines on digital screens. At some point, a line must break. If it has to break more than once or twice, it is no longer a poetic line, with the integrity that lineation demands. On smaller devices with enlarged type, a line break may not appear where its author intended, interrupting the unit of the line and its importance in the poem’s structure.

  We attempt to accommodate long lines with a hanging indent—similar in fashion to the way Whitman’s lines were treated in books whose margins could not honor his discursive length. On your screen, a long line will break according to the space available, with the remainder of the line wrapping at an indent. This allows readers to retain control over the appearance of text on any device, while also indicating where the author intended the line to break.

  This may not be a perfect solution, as some readers initially may be confused. We have to accept, however, that we are creating poetry e-books in a world that is imperfect for them—and we understand that to some degree the line may be compromised. Despite this, we’ve attempted to protect the integrity of the line, thus allowing readers of poetry to travel fully stocked with the poetry that needs to be with them.

  —Harper Design

  Dedication

  THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO TWO OF

  MY BEST FRIENDS AND BIGGEST

  INSPIRATIONS, ZAIRE AND ZULU.

  MAY YOU BOTH GROW TO BE BLACK OAKS.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Publisher’s Note

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Brave Hearts

  Billy Porter – Actor

  Black Thought – Wordsmith

  Colin Kaepernick – Civil Rights Activist

  Jamaal Bowman – United States Representative

  Kerry James Marshall – Visual Artist

  Killer Mike – Rapper

  Dr. Marc Lamont Hill – Academic

  Ryan Coogler – Filmmaker

  Champions

  Barry Jenkins – Filmmaker

  Big K.R.I.T. – Rapper

  Edmund Graham III – Higher Education Administrator

  Eric Hale – Teacher

  Excell Hardy Jr. – Business Consultant

  Jericho Brown – Poet

  LeBron James – Professional Basketball Player

  Tristan Walker – CEO, Walker & Company Brands

  Dreamers

  Chance the Rapper – Rapper

  Harold Green III – Poet

  Hebru Brantley – Visual Artist

  Jason Reynolds – Author

  Kevin Fredericks – Comedian

  Matthew Cherry – Director

  Theaster Gates – Potter

  Tyler Perry – Film Industry Executive

  Guardians

  Charles Booker – Former Kentucky House Representative

  Dwyane Wade – Retired Professional Basketball Player

  Harold Green Jr. – Retired Courier

  Mahershala Ali – Actor

  Orlando Cooper – Laborer

  Rev. Dr. Otis Moss III – Pastor

  Swizz Beatz – Music Producer

  Tobe Nwigwe – Rapper

  Humanitarians

  Harold Green Sr. – Printer

  Dr. Henry Louis Gates Jr. – Scholar

  John Legend – Singer

  Kehinde Wiley – Visual Artist

  Kylar Broadus – Attorney

  Pharrell Williams – Music Producer

  Rev. Dr. William Barber II – Pastor

  Ta-Nehisi Coates – Writer

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author and Illustrator

  Also by Harold Green

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Introduction

  Very early in my life, I could feel how influential Black male role models were for me, external and immediate ones. Just as much as I was inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Nelson Mandela, and Michael Jordan, I was equally impressed by my father, grandfather, uncles, cousins, and coaches.

  My father’s writings were my initial introduction to poetry. He would write poems for my sister and me and often call us Princess and Prince, affirming and reminding us how powerful and regal we were. It was such an endearing act, and the inclusion of those regal themes subconsciously built us up in a way that nothing in the world could ever decrease our self-esteem. We were always reminded that we were heirs to whatever kingdom we so desired. He also birthed a certain passion in me for music. The way certain songs moved my father was different from what I had seen from anyone else around me. I learned that music is a language and not just a source of entertainment.

  My grandfather Harold Green Sr. is a very clean man. He is a vintage southern gentleman from New Orleans. Even his yard clothes are pressed and proper. His house was the gathering spot for his block, and he was the handyman, cook, and peacekeeper for the neighborhood. My grandfather introduced me to the importance of community. Both my father and grandfather showed me the value in just saying hello with a smile and helping when our services are needed; my grandfather specifically, and unknowingly, demonstrated to me that the community will take care of you if you take care of it.

  My uncle Marvin was the first person I knew with rims and a sound system. He would pick me up in his gray Chevrolet Trailblazer, playing Tupac or Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, and I thought I had been transported into a John Singleton film. He played every sport I aspired to, loved the University of Michigan, kept a fresh pair of Jordans, and would often take me to the barbershop. He introduced me to what was “cool.” My uncle Reggie would take me to the Art Institute of Chicago, speak about films I had never heard of, and always had some statement art piece on his wall. He introduced me to a certain liberation of being a Black man with a love for the arts, allowing me space to be more open-minded. Being exposed to fine art early on helped me appreciate it, create it, and relate to those who love it as well.

  One of the most important lessons I learned from the men closest to me is the value of friendship. I knew my father, grandfather, and uncles had lifelong friends who always seemed to bring them joy. I watched from a courtside view how significant those friendships were to them as they laughed and confided in one another. It seemed to me that one of the most crucial resources these friendships provided was not just joy but a sense of comfort. To know and be known for decades, and still be loved for who you are, when you have stood at your tallest and fell to your lowest, is an incredible feeling. I know. I learned very early how critical friendships are
for Black men to not only survive but to feel understood as well.

  I have made long-lasting friends with other Black men at every stage of my life. Carlton in elementary school, along with our best friend Joshua, were the first sleepover crew I had. We navigated the Chicago streets and the public school system at such a formative age while creating memories I will never forget. In middle school there was Kerel and Excell. I met Excell when I moved to the south suburbs of Chicago at the start of middle school. When my mother acquired a job near our new home and could no longer transport me into the city every morning, Excell’s father gladly offered to take me to school every day for the next two years. Excell and his dad are among the most gracious people I have ever met.

  There are my homies from high school: Orlando, Mike, Danny, Brandon, Dave, Ronnie, and Eric. They each have their own stories that I think could be their own books, but the way that we looked after each other, made each other laugh and feel protected during those four years, will forever remain in my heart. My college roommates Steve, Ed, and Larry at Grambling State each believed in me and my dreams of becoming a professional artist and agent of change on campus, and they gave me the confidence of ten men.

  Making long-lasting friends as an adult can be tricky, but not with Binkey, Malari, Adrian, Bradley, Pierre, and Paul. Binkey and Malari were the first brothas I met on the open-mic scene in Chicago, and two of the most talented. They are older than me but never held back on complimenting me or including me. Adrian and Bradley are both renowned photographers who saw me for me so quickly and so well. Their lenses are still just as sharp today. I’ve known Pierre since Grambling, and he has since become one of the most reliable friends I have. And while I’ve known Paul since middle school, the man he is today is what makes me proud to call him my friend. He has shown me how inspiring growth can be, and how loving someone more than yourself can be so powerful—leading to more love in your life.

  I have realized how essential it is to communicate with these men for our friendships to continue and thrive. I tell each one of these Black men, “I love you,” because sometimes we forget how important it is to hear that and be reminded of that in a nonromantic relationship. To know that you are valued just for existing and striving to be your best self is a relief in an often stressful and dismissive world. These men are fathers, brothers, professionals, community advocates, partners, dreamers, and friends, and I have had the honor of discussing the wholeness of these men with them. What a pleasure. They do not run from the love I have for them, or the power it has to change them, and that is beautiful. They are beautiful. As a friend, I am the listener, affirmer, storyteller, and celebrator. Those are a few of my superpowers, and I really hope to put them on full display in this book.

  I wrote Black Oak because I want to expand on the language that Black men use to speak to and about each other. One thing I’ve learned in all my friendships is how to be comfortable affirming other Black men and how imperative it is to cheer each other on when we are pushing the narrative forward. Every Black man in this book has intentionally put his Blackness on display, went out of his way to uplift or assist other Black people, or knew his Blackness was a part of the grading rubric for his success and never tried to erase it. Those characteristics alone, in addition to being outstanding humans in other ways, is worth cheering for.

  I want us to be more comfortable rooting for each other no matter sexual orientation, disagreements, or status. Whether we admit it or not, there is an extra level of special that we feel when we are acknowledged by our brothas. Black men have an unspoken language that exists in the types of handshakes, head nods, and compliments that we give each other. I love our cryptic union, but I also believe in the power of clarity. I wanted to look my brothas in the eye and tell them they are special and deserving of so much more with this book.

  This project was mentally conceived shortly after Black Roses because I love balance and because I knew how inspiring it would be. I have not seen many, if any, projects like this, and I truly believe that if I had come across something like this growing up, I would have been inspired. I would have wanted to be a Black Oak. One of the most special memories I have while rolling out the digital campaign for this project before it became a book was watching Dwyane Wade repost the video I did in honor of the excellent job he is doing as a father. The way he has decided to love his child became the center of many negative and hateful opinions of what being a father should look like. As a brotha with two children of my own, I wanted to celebrate him in this way to combat those who were presenting the opposite energy.

  As I wish with Black Roses, I would love to see Black Oak turn into volumes of works because I can’t see this topic being superfluous in the foreseeable future. But what I hope you do with this collection is look further into each of these brave and dedicated men yourself. I know someone’s story will touch you in a way that you weren’t expecting. Even with the figures whom you may already know a lot about, take a deeper dive. I call the research I did for each person in this book “sitting with them,” and I gained so much emotional and biographical insight. I hope you sit with some of them, too. I also listened to a John Coltrane compilation titled “Work from Home” every time I sat down to work on this book. I’m not saying that you have to do that, but if you feel moved to do so, it may enhance your experience while reading this book or researching these men.

  As Black men in America, we have enough hurdles to clear. I want this book to help show us how unity and brotherhood can help us not only clear those hurdles but assist us to soar higher than we imagined. So let’s help these Black men soar by lifting up their names now:

  Barry Jenkins, Big K.R.I.T., Billy Porter, Black Thought, Chance the Rapper, Charles Booker, Colin Kaepernick, Dr. Henry Louis Gates Jr., Dr. Marc Lamont Hill, Dwyane Wade, Edmund Graham III, Eric Hale, Excell Hardy Jr., Harold Green Jr., Harold Green Sr., Hebru Brantley, Jamaal Bowman, Jason Reynolds, Jericho Brown, John Legend, Kehinde Wiley, Kerry James Marshall, Kevin Fredericks, Killer Mike, Kylar Broadus, LeBron James, Mahershala Ali, Matthew Cherry, Orlando Cooper, Pharrell Williams, Rev. Dr. Otis Moss III, Rev. Dr. William Barber, Ryan Coogler, Swizz Beatz, Ta-Nehisi Coates, Theaster Gates, Tobe Nwigwe, Tristan Walker, and Tyler Perry.

  MR. PORTER’S POWER

  ODE TO BILLY PORTER

  What a Herculean feat

  to break apart stereotypes,

  then build yourself back up

  after the fight of your life.

  With your past, present,

  and fantastical future.

  But Billy is a believer,

  a fighter,

  and a doer.

  You turned

  what they called liabilities

  into assets.

  Demolish the antiquated ideals of manhood,

  but make it fashion.

  Shine on ’em, Sun God.

  May a little of your gold

  fall on their tongues

  so they never speak so cheap again.

  Spread your wings,

  show us your cape,

  teach us fly.

  May a little of your glitter

  fall upon their eyes

  so that they appreciate

  the finer things.

  Be the ying

  and the yang.

  Show us

  how boldly you’ve mastered balance.

  Show us

  how to conquer our fears,

  but make it fashion.

  Blur the lines

  by continuously stepping over them—

  in your pumps.

  Remind them

  you are not spectacle.

  You are talent.

  When you stand on that red carpet,

  you are not timid—

  you are tower.

  You are present

  and that’s power.

  BLACK THOUGHT PROCESS

  ODE TO BLACK THOUGHT

  The Tyrant, Mr. Trotter:

  I’ve never
seen

  someone make bullying

  look so beautiful.

  The fine art

  of being a backbreaking boss.

  The way you make words

  work for you.

  As soon as they punch in

  they get punched in the mouth.

  Folding over

  and contorting

  to your demanding delivery.

  Finding a way to fit

  to your form.

  Function finds flexibility.

  Nimble becomes the norm.

  The words behave in a way

  that make me believe

  that even though

  you rip them apart

  with barbaric force—

  just to build them back up

  to new structures

  of their past standard,

  they don’t want to let you down.

  I don’t know

  if it’s Stockholm syndrome,

  but those battered exiles

  flung from your tongue’s island

  sure are fond of you.

  I’ve never heard

  them sound so precise.

  As demanding as you are,

  they should be thankful for you;

  because I just don’t recall

  them ever working that well.

  I think we can all learn a lesson

  from the way

  you have taken jurisdiction

  over your diction.

  The lesson?

  The words work for you,

  so be wise in how you employ them.

  COLIN’S PROPOSAL

  ODE TO COLIN KAEPERNICK

  We are programmed to believe

  when a man gets on one knee

  that he is proposing.

  We also feel secondhand embarrassment

  when that proposal is rejected.

  Sometimes, we even find ourselves

  in an unwarranted rage:

  “How could they say no?!”

  On September 1st, 2016,

  Colin Kaepernick proposed to the United States—

  she said, “No.”

  Very few were embarrassed,