My favorite poet, Nikki Giovanni, died this week. She was 81 and battled cancer on and off for for years. As a student at Mississippi University for Women, I helped host her, picking her up from the airport and introducing her for our Black history program. She was incredibly kind. I was astonished that she talked to me like a peer. She worked hard not to cuss during her appearance, which disappointed me as a certified cusser, but one understands contractual obligations.
I recited Nikki’s “I Wrote a Good Omelet” for a poetry contest at Jackson State as a high school senior and came home with a big trophy that tickled my mother. Since high school, I have considered Nikki to be the best-kept secret among Black women poets. Gwendolyn Brooks, whom I met at that poetry recitation contest, was the grand dame along with Maya Angelou. Everyone wanted to read their work for school or church events, while Sonia Sanchez was for the intellectual crowd. No, I thought of Nikki as my poet.
As we have seen from the outpouring this week, Nikki Giovanni was not a secret. She was internationally beloved. My 17-year-old self didn’t know it, but it turns out that I’m a lot like Nikki. She was generally joyful, with headlines about her transcending reminding us that she centered the joy of being Black. Recently, a friend told me that I was “very joyful,” which made me happy because we certainly have enough foolishness going on right now. Nikki was a cusser, as y’all know. I love the Lord, and I cuss a little, and like her, I love to cook because gathering for food is a low barrier to entry for spreading joy.
She loved being a Black woman and once said she highly recommended it. I agree wholeheartedly.
There’s a lot of talk among Black women about the goings-on in this country. Many of us have announced that we are turning inward, no longer trying to save the rest of the world. I’m unsure if that will come to fruition. I’m uncertain if we can do it despite blinding disappointment and betrayal. Time will tell. Nikki was a long-time English professor at Virginia Tech. She was among the first to sound the alarm about the young person who would eventually go on to murder 33 people in the April 2007 massacre on that campus. Nikki knew his writing and classroom behavior were not just odd or eccentric. She knew he was dangerous, and she told higher-ups just that. Because of our lived experience, filled with hyper-vigilance, Black women see trouble coming years and sometimes decades before other folks, yet even with that unrelenting knowledge, we still make room for joy.
Time will tell if we can stop trying to save everybody. I do know that Black women can’t save America from itself. We’ve tried. It doesn’t work, but we can teach America something. We can teach them that joy and love of fellow humans should guide us and not fear of one another. Nikki lived big, open and honest, and that’s what I hope for each of you during this season. I hope you can live out your truth joyfully and gratefully.
Correction: The above headline originally misspelled Nikki Giovanni’s last name. We deeply apologize for this error.