For the past three months, I have interned in the research department of Urban Upbound, a nonprofit organization that provides services to public housing residents in Queens, New York. Urban Upbound supplies this community with tools and resources needed to achieve economic mobility and self-sufficiency; their vision is to help residents break cycles of poverty. They primarily serve the Queensbridge Housing Development, which — with its 3,142 apartments — is known as America’s largest operating public housing project.
Master of Arts in Urban Studies Candidate Paula Bonfatti Lima
In New York City, there are over 607,000 people living in public housing developments under the New York City Housing Authority (NYCHA). 110,000 (18.1%) of these residents are children under 18 years old. Historically, public housing developments have been criticized by the mainstream as isolated, low-income urban population. Some critics contend that this housing creates vertical structural poverty in socioeconomically depressed neighborhoods. In addition, critics charge that these concentrated pockets of poverty are subject to high crime rates, unemployment and low turnover. However, NYCHA has 328 public housing units throughout the City’s five boroughs and serves 175,747 families, and has committed itself to playing an important role in fighting urban poverty and leveraging economically vulnerable communities.Continue reading NYCHA, Representation & Service Provision: A Student’s Perspective→
For the full text of “Albanza,” by Martin Espada, visit the poet’s website at MartinEspada.net.
In the prose poem “Alabanza,” acclaimed poet Martin Espada honors the forty-three members of Local 100 who died in the attacks on the Twin Towers on September 11, 2001. These workers staffed the Windows on the World restaurant, located at the top of the North Tower.
The first two stanzas of “Alabanza” begin with deft, quick portraits animated by the music of bread and eggs: a cook from Fajardo whose blue eyes echo Spanish and American invasions of Puerto Rico. The tattooed “oye” on his shoulder, an exclamation that shares shades of meaning across several languages and cultures, underlines the transcendence of words. Each worker carries familial histories in bodies as they move through daily routines of feeding customers.
Espada’s next sketches build on these personal moments by intentionally linking histories of structural conquest and labor movements in the Caribbean. The roll call of migrant and immigrant workers listed in this poem serve as remembrance. In its breathtaking diversity, it is also a reminder that our cities are points for labor flows affected by agrarian and trade agreements and military campaigns. Espada avoids commenting on the attacks on the Twin Towers themselves, but instead directs us to the unspoken lives and labor struggles represented in the poem. As the poem opens outward, it moves beyond our imaginations.
Photo features Officer David W. Lim and Urban Studies Graduate Student David T. Boyd (3/9/01)
By David T. Boyd
It’s not often that a series of unrelated occurrences come full circle, especially in connection to the tragic events of September 11th, but a few short weeks ago I made one of the most amazing discoveries of my life. In order for me to properly share this discovery, I’ll need to provide some backstory about my very first visit to New York City.
On March 9, 2001, I came to visit a friend who lived in Brooklyn and spent most of my vacation seeing the touristy areas of the Big Apple. On Wednesday, March 14th, I finally made it to the World Trade Center with hopes of going up to ‘Windows on the World’ and having lunch. Because it had been raining for much of my trip, a heavy fog covered the towers somewhere between the 40th and 50th floors, making it impossible for anyone to see the top while standing on the concourse.
On June 12th, 2015, the Murphy Institute Blog Arts & Culture Editors hosted the first ever Creative Arts Night at the Murphy Institute.
In this video clip, Dr. Randall Horton, Assistant Professor of New Haven College of Arts and Science, explores how his writing life as a poet began during his commuted sentence in North Carolina correctional facility. This talk was part of the Creative Arts panel event in June 2015 at the Murphy Institute.
In tracing his creative and academic path, Horton demonstrates the connections between the creative arts, sociopolitical consciousness and grassroots organizing. He shows how writing programs such as the Cave Canem and the Asian American Writers’ Workshop can serve as alternatives to institutional fine arts programs that are inaccessible to many writers in underserved communities. In providing mentoring and workshop space, these organizations offer much-needed creative instruction and facilitate counter-perspectives to the production emerging from BFA and MFA programs.
Matt Sedillo is a poet, worker and artist living in Los Angeles. His book of poems “For What I Might Do Tomorrow” was released in 2010 by Caza De Poesia. Here, the two time national slam poet answers some questions posed by Arts and Culture co-editor Samina Shahidi.
The poem “The Devil” by Matt Sedillo. Video directed by Elefante.
We’ve been introduced to Matt Sedillo from your poems. What else should readers know about you?
I would like people to know that I am a working artist and a curious soul so I do like to travel. Outside of being an artist, I am also really interested in connecting with people about many of the problems we are collectively facing today.
What is it like to be a young, Mexican-American poet today?
I am based in Los Angeles, so my experience as a Mexican American might be different than someone living in Chicago or Houston or places of recent migration like New York or Detroit. Living in LA my experience as an artist and my general experience as a person on that front is great. I feel rooted in the life of the city in its past, present and future. There is a great scene out here with some many young talented Chicano artists many of them dear friends of mine but there are also deep roots and deep connections with the previous generations as well as the one coming in after me. Thank you for calling me young, by the way. That is happening less and less these days.
What challenges do you encounter (as a poet, and/or additional intersections) and how do you meet them?
As a poet — and I think this is true of most performance artists — it’s sometimes hard to get people to understand that a performance or a service should be compensated. For instance, if I crafted jewelry I doubt people would just ask for free necklaces; it is understood in the production of goods there is expense. That same understanding does not always translate. I imagine plumbers and mechanics are often by family members to help out in ways that a restaurateur might not be asked — again, that’s service vs. physical production. I don’t know. But that is the real primary struggle I face as a poet, just trying to live as a poet. As to the creative part, I am lucky to still have a lot of energy and ideas. I hope that never changes.
Who are your poetry people (i.e., writers who influence you, with whom you organize)?
I work a lot with David Romero and Yazmin Monet Watkins. The three of us have collectively formed Marginalized Voices and were honored enough to present a major workshop at last year’s National Conference on Race and Ethnicity. I also have been fortunate enough to forge a poetic connection and friendship with former San Francisco Poet Laureate Jack Hirschman. Most recently, I co-developed a poetry workshop with current LA Poet Laureate Luis Rodriguez. Luis is an amazing man and I am truly honored to be working with him. He has come into my life several times and delivered so much encouragement. It is hard to believe I am actually now working alongside him.
What would you say to a writer starting out?
I would tell a writer to take serious assessments of their goals and then ask the question “do I truly believe I deserve to achieve my goals?” If you do not believe you deserve to achieve your goals, you will self-sabotage along the way. People are wonderful and full of so much capacity, so much talent, so much latent expression, but we are also riddled with doubt. Those doubts need to be addressed head-on. Once we are firmly rooted in our highest capacities and have the confidence to proceed, things fall in place. Immerse yourself in the direction you most want to pursue and paths will make themselves apparent.
For those who are already in the right head space the more practical advice I can offer would be to create the greatest amount of visibility possible given your current resources, knock on as many doors as possible and collect your work in cohesive formats that are ready made to be sent. Prepare yourself for great things. Prepare yourself to succeed. You deserve to be happy. The world awaits your voice. It just doesn’t know it yet.
“Believing in Iron” and “Against Silence” are poems that speak directly to African American history, lives and labor as they intersect with our domestic and international military campaigns.
Poet Yusef Komunyakaa’s work in part draws from his experiences as an African-American growing up in Louisiana during the Civil Rights movement and later, as an American editor and correspondent covering the Vietnam War. Tyehimba Jess, a promising new voice, connects our current drone campaigns in Pakistan (among other countries) to the growing militarization of our American policing institutions and the impact of both on young people of color in the United States. Continue reading “Believing in Iron” and “Against Silence”→
A conversation about workers, communities and social justice
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