When we’re finished with our homework, Lee Lee says, “You want to hear my poem for Natasha Ramsey? I’m still working on it, but I think it’s almost finished.”
I listen to Lee Lee read her poem, and I want to say something more profound, but all I can think of is, “Wow, Lee Lee, that’s really good.”
“Thanks,” Lee Lee says. She sets her notebook down and looks over the poem again. “I want to do something with this.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Everyone’s poems in class were so good. Seems like a waste to just write them and no one hears them except us.”
When Lee Lee says this, I think about Mia’s gallery. “I have an idea,” I say.
For the rest of the night we think up a plan to have an open mic and art show in honor of Natasha Ramsey. We get so caught up with our idea that we plan every detail. Lee Lee will be the MC. She’ll open and close the event with two of her poems. We’ll ask students from her school to come and share their poems too. I’ll have some of my art on display, and hopefully we can get some other visual artists from local schools. I’ll ask Josiah if he’ll be our social media person and help us promote it.
Lee Lee says, “Should we charge people to get in and give the proceeds to Natasha’s family? I heard there’s some kind of fund where people can donate to help with the cost of medical bills.”
I think about the benefit gala and all those people coming up to me, giving me their cards, saying, “Call me if you need anything,” and “Keep in touch.” I tell Lee Lee, “I don’t want any excuse for people not to come, so let’s not charge. But we can sell the art. I know some people who will buy art for a good cause.”
We are all ready to choose a date when we realize we haven’t even asked Mia if she’ll host the event. I sure hope she meant it when she said her gallery was for the people.
67
renacimiento
rebirth
I’ve been combining moments from different photos, blending decades, people, and worlds that don’t belong together. Knitting history into the beautiful, bloody tapestry it is.
Emmett Till meets Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown.
Rosa Parks and Sandra Bland talk with each other under southern trees.
Coretta Scott King is holding Aiyana Mo’Nay Stanley-Jones in her arms.
The faces lie on top of newspaper articles and headlines, only I take the words from the headlines and spell out new titles, rewrite history. Make it so all these people are living and loving and being.
68
legado
legacy
1805.
Lewis and Clark and the rest of the explorers reached the Pacific Ocean in November. They established Fort Clatsop, near Astoria, Oregon, and stayed there for the winter. On March 23, 1806, they headed to St. Louis. The eight-thousand-mile journey had ended.
After all those days searching for the Missouri River, after being trusted to carry a gun, after being listened to, after having some kind of say, York returned to St. Louis with the others.
The others were welcomed back as national heroes.
They were given 320 acres of land and double pay.
But York? He didn’t get anything.
And maybe he was okay with that. Maybe he knew getting land and money was out of the question. But could he keep his freedom? Could he continue to walk the earth, going where he pleased, having a say, being part of a community? When he asked for his freedom, Clark said no. Clark said, “Who does this slave think he is?”
All York wanted was to be close to his wife, who lived in Kentucky. All York wanted was to hold on to that feeling, that feeling when you stand at the ocean, letting the water rush up to your feet and run away again. That feeling of looking out and not being able to see an end or beginning. That feeling that reminds you how massive this world is, how tiny but powerful humans are.
1816.
Clark eventually gave York his freedom.
I wonder what it would have been like if York had received that land and that money, and his freedom. What would he have built? Would he have left it to his children? Would they have done something with it and passed it on, and then their children’s children would have passed it on? And isn’t this what the man in the Money Matters workshop was telling us when he was explaining how it is that some are rich and some are poor?
Isn’t that how it works? You pass on what you were given.
But York, what could he give?
69
trabajar
to work Mia was so excited about our idea that she decided to call up a few of her friends, and now we have three professional artists who’ve donated their work for the event. We also put a call out to local high schools for students who want to submit work. Mia is in charge of all that, thank goodness. All I have to focus on is making my piece. I thought since Lee Lee has a poem written for the occasion, I should take inspiration from her poem. We’ve been in the kitchen all day, working. Lee Lee is revising her poem one last time, and I am working on the images.
The only noise in the kitchen is her pen on the page crossing out and adding in, writing and rewriting stanzas, mixed with the slicing of scissors, the tearing of paper. On and on we go until the sun meets moon.
70
arreglar
to fix
Mr. Flores tells the class we will be working in pairs today. He puts me and Sam together. “These are your conversations for the activity,” he says. The words on the cards are written in English. It’s up to us to say them in Spanish. The answer key is on the back of the card. He gives each pair three cards with different conversations on them. “It doesn’t matter if these are or are not your real answers,” Mr. Flores says. “The point is to practice having conversations.”
Sam bites her lip and picks up the card that’s on top.
Sam: “Jade, ?qué vas a hacer esta noche?”
Me: “Voy a ir a bailar. ?Quieres venir?”
Sam: “?Me encantaría!”
Me: “A las diez.”
Sam: “?Buenísimo!”
And then we switch roles. But instead of saying what’s on the card, I talk to her in my own words.
Me: “Lo siento.”