Yolande Cornelia “Nikki” Giovanni Jr. — poet, writer, activist, educator — passed away on December 9, 2024 at the age of 81.
It is impossible to have a discussion about poetry and not include Nikki Giovanni at the forefront. The impact of her prolific words is far-reaching and never flinching. Ms. Giovanni was a prominent figure in the Black Arts Movement, a cultural renaissance of Black nationalism at the beginning of the civil rights era. Her two debut poetry collections, published in 1968, Black Feeling, Black Talk/Black Judgement, served up unapologetic and militant calls for racial and social justice and earned her the designation “Poet of the Black Revolution.”
Along with fellow titan poets such as James Baldwin, Amiri Baraka, Audre Lorde, Ntozake Shange, and Sonia Sanchez, she helped shape this transformative movement. However, like many women involved in it, Ms. Giovanni often found herself at odds with the male-dominance of the movement.
Despite this, she carved out her own identity as a renowned poet and intellectual. Small in stature but her presence was commanding. Her voice, unlike any other, was known for her timing and cadence. Her poems have the power to make you see what she’s saying – feel it and become it.
Revolutionary is word that described her world view and she never held back on what she believed. In an interview she did with Los Angeles Review of Books, I found her thoughts on Donald Trump very profound:
“I think you have to compare Donald Trump to Adolf Hitler. I think that Trump is evil, and I think that he is a murderer. We continue to see him encouraging war as we continue to see his greed. So, as bad as I thought Richard Nixon was, and I was glad he resigned under threat of impeachment, and that was led by representative Barbara Jordan, I think you have to look at Trump for what he is — he is evil.”
Well, she said what she said.
I started writing poetry as a child, after I read her poems. Her words lit a fire inside me and taught me how to love myself, love my skin, and my history. Ego Tripping is one of her most well-known poems and starts with this:
I was born in the congo
I walked to the fertile crescent and built
the sphinx
I designed a pyramid so tough that a star
that only glows every one hundred years falls
into the center giving divine perfect light
I am bad
I sat on the throne
drinking nectar with allah
I got hot and sent an ice age to europe
to cool my thirst
My oldest daughter is nefertiti
the tears from my birth pains
created the nile
I am a beautiful woman
This anthem concludes just as powerful as it started:
I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal
I cannot be comprehended
except by my permission
I mean . . . I . . . can fly
like a bird in the sky . . .
The first time I read this poem, I was about 10-years-old and I couldn’t believe how bold it was. It’s truly an anthem for Black women. It is meant to inspire unapologetic pride in their lives. The rhythm of each line grabs you and won’t let go. There is a version set to music. Ms. Giovanni clearly recognized the power of spoken word. She made several recordings of her poetry set against a gospel or jazz backdrop. No one conjures words like that.
Many years ago, Ms. Giovanni visited Kansas City for a talk and poetry reading. It was one of those I-had-to-be-there moments. I arrived at the venue and patiently waited three hours which gave me plenty of time to rehearse what I always wanted to say to her.
When the time came, I froze. It was beyond a starstruck moment. It was more like a God-filled, legacy moment. My younger self showed up that night, because it was her that needed a word. Ms. Giovanni’s smile was comfortable and strong. She knew exactly who she was, and at that time, I didn’t.
I managed to ask her one question: “On the page, how do you know who you are?” She looked at me and said, “More than likely, you already know. But you keep writing, and writing, and writing, and you’ll know. That’s all you can do.”
It was simple but resonated with me, because it challenged the fear that I had of pouring myself out on the page for the world to see. But I’ve since learned that is what the poet’s job is, so that others can see themselves.
“My dream was not to publish or to even be a writer: my dream was to discover something no one else had thought of. I guess that’s why I’m a poet. We put things together in ways no one else does.”
This time last year, I watched Going to Mars: The Nikki Giovanni Project, directed by Michèle Stephenson and Joe Brewster. What was most poignant for me was how Ms. Giovanni was reconciling her relationships with her son, granddaughter, and wife Virginia C. Fowler. She was intentional about the time she spent with them and what she was passing on. Throughout the film, her boundaries were clear and she stood ten toes down on what she wouldn’t talk about or explore further. For example, she completely refused to remember one of her most famous poems about the death of Martin Luther King.
Ms. Giovanni’s career spanned more than five decades, and gave Black women a fearless voice through poems, essays, anthologies and children’s books. She explored race, gender, and civil rights that shaped our generation and continues to shift our culture.
Yet, all we have to do is rest in her bounty of work; everything we want to know from her is in a poem. Whether it’s about herself, about someone else, how she feels, or what she should, could or would do. How blessed we are to have been a witness of her fierce pen.
Rest in peace.
