Will North - SAIC CLASS OF 2020 GRADUATE WEBSITE

What Day Did You Know Yourself?

What day did you realize that the little boy in the mirror was you?
That the grinning child matched your every movement, each gesture
Was it a sudden, shocking revelation?
Or did it come about in bits and pieces?
Whenever that day was, forever after, you knew him.
When you got up in the morning to brush your teeth, he was there.
When you wanted to measure how much you had grown over the summer, he was staring back at you.
Sizing you up. Comparing you to those other kids in that mirror world of his.
When you practiced how you would get the pretty student’s number
Just the right balance of respect and swag
How to time it so that the other kids in 5th period don’t see
Of course, that one junior sees everything and makes a scene ☹!
The young man greeted you at that mirror when you were preparing to move out the house. Go off to school and learn some things.
That adult life was yours!
When did it happen?
When did you realize that you weren’t the person you dreamed you’d be?
Was it a sudden, shocking revelation?
Or did it come about in bits and pieces?
Did the man looking back at you like what he saw? He wasn’t grinning any longer.
He wasn’t jumping in and out of your sight like he did when you were a toddler.
He was questioning you.
How were you staking up to the people in that mirror world of his?
What was the measure of the one staring back at you?
Whenever that day was, forever after,
What would you do about it?

Ushindi Series, Photo by the artist

No Marker

I dream you
I want to know how to know you
Beyond sight, I call your name
You, who were the Grandfather of my father’s father
You, who built life in Houston when it was more a hamlet than the metropolis it would be
How might I know you?
Not only your victories, but your failures, your setbacks
What made you the man you were and through that process, what was in you that was passed to the rest of us?
The 1890 city directory lists you as a driver living at 1012 Bingham
At that point, you had purchased the land and lived there with your wife for decades

You two had twins late in life
Soon after they were born, she would proceed you into eternity
You all lived through furious times

I have so many questions without answers
Did you celebrate Juneteenth?
What were your thoughts of Camp Logan?
What did you think of your sons’ desire to make their way through Baseball?
Were you an involved Father?
Were you supportive or aloof?

Whatever your qualities, my father’s grandfather wanted to remember you
Naming was a way to assert control in a volatile world
This obsession with naming our sons after those we love…
The desire to be reminded of our antecedent when we call our children’s name
You didn’t initiate this tradition, but your name was carried on

Of course, you had made your transition decades before your grandchildren were born and they would never know you in person
But your name was carried on by your son’s second son
What was it about you that your own son hoped to remember?
I never had a chance to meet him on this side

How sad that the entirety of our lives can be reduced to a single line in a city directory
What justice does that designation bring you?
What honor does it bring us?
How do you feel about your descendants?
Why don’t they know you?

Ushindi Cover 1, Pencil, 30 x 22 in.

Ushindi Cover 2, Pencil, 30 x 22 in.

A Question

You don’t think I work with you to feel good about myself, do you?
I am not here because I am a nice guy
That isn’t why I get up in the mornings to join the others and build with you and your brothers.

When parents and boys assume we work with “Bad Kids,” I protest.
I tell them what we do isn’t unique.

Cultures around the world and across time have had systems of initiation to prepare youth for adulthood. Such traditions serve the purpose of preserving a community by instilling their values into the next generation.

They always knew this work was necessary

Our work is only a continuation of that tradition.

You were missing for weeks and now you return to tell us you caught a case? Charges were filed because of choices you made? What is your life to you alone?
The younger boys look up to you
The older ones worry about you
You aren’t alone
The best in you adds to the rest of us

If you are gone, how are we to move forward?

Who will replace the elders among us? Who will replace me?
Again, I don’t work with you to feel good about myself!

How could I feel good when I see Black boys behind on the major academic measures in our city? Being relatively “bad” or “good” as individuals doesn’t matter much if the masses are locked out of promising futures.
Your fate is not yours alone.
What will become of them?

How could I feel satisfied when I work with other organizations that are sustained almost exclusively by women?

This isn’t balanced

I ask myself, where are the men?
I certainly see an abundance when I visit the prisons in Huntsville
Locked outside of possibilities for themselves
I see others around town, alienated from the institutions of our community
This is a great imbalance
These conditions are unsustainable

In the end, maybe it won’t matter.
You tell me you know you are making “bad” choices but continue making them.

I want you to want more for you

Ultimately, my feelings don’t matter. Maybe my efforts won’t either.

Perhaps the older generation will pass into eternity without their replacements.

But doing nothing isn’t an option for me and it shouldn’t be for you.
The imbalance grows
Our fates are tied together
They need you
I need you
You are too important to fail.

Ushindi Cover 3, 30 x 22 in.

Ushindi Cover 4, Pencil and collage, 30 x 22 in.

A Message to My Son

I dreamt you
Before you were born, I imagined the kind of person you’d be
I knew your name
From early childhood, I was asked if I would one day name my son after me
Would I one day continue that legacy?

I don’t look at it that way, I never have. I view the act of naming and renaming as a process of refining
We do our best to instruct our sons with the hope that they will go beyond what we could be
So that each successive generation would have less of the bad and more of the good

On the day you were born, I declared that you were my son and that I would always fight for you

I haven’t forgotten that promise
I will never stop fighting for you
The relationship between your Mom and me didn’t work out but we both love you

Regardless of those circumstances, I will always fight for you
I will continue to be there and challenge myself every day to be the father you deserve

I once heard an official speak of the love he had for his deceased father who had also held public office

While some loved this man and others loathed him in the public arena, the son knew him as Dad
Their last words to each other were about the love and pride they had for the other

What greater honor could a Father hope for from his child?
How much could someone work to achieve that honor?

In your eyes I see rivers I will never cross
As I put you to bed, I touch your hair and kiss your face
I know you will make your mistakes
I don’t expect to agree with all your choices, but I will fight for your freedom to make them
You will feel joy
And pain too

I can’t shelter you from that
As much as I wish I could, I realize I can’t protect you from every heartbreak or set back
I don’t know the path you will walk or where you will fall

What I know is that I will do all I can to be there to help you back up
I will fight for your freedom to live a life on your own terms.

Ushindi Series #2, Photo by Casandra North (artist's mother)

The Four Heads

Allison came ashore in 2001
She drifted a bit and then lingered over town
They say the lingering is what caused the most destruction
Wide spread flooding, billions of dollars to the medical center and downtown
But as with everything else, the people moved on
Insurance claims were filed
The city would be rebuilt better than ever!

We would recover, it would be as if Allison never happened
In many ways that was true
Still, while some areas were rebuilt, others were swept away
The old church was one of them
It sat across the street from our family homestead for generations
It was on its last leg before Allison

After the storm, the church was torn down
Replaced by the odious site of four large heads
These weren’t just any heads; however, they were the heads of VERY important men
These heads were fashioned in the likeness of two fathers of Texas and two Presidents of the United States
They were placed there to greet travelers heading downtown on I-45 from northern parts

A notable landmark near my ancestor’s house, Houston

The project would go on to be known as Statesmanship Park but more people call them Mount Rush Hour

Soon after, new multistory town homes were born while more and more shotgun homes were killed
More and more residents were erased
And replaced

The neighborhood that my family lived in from the time of my Grandfather’s Grandfather was deconstructed

The place was reconfigured beyond recognition

But we all knew this was going to happen
Why didn’t any of our leaders care?

Were the heirs too busy bickering among themselves to notice the crisis on the horizon?
Perhaps they were too concerned with getting through the present to be concerned much about the past

Or the future

The only bulwark against this encroachment was old Henry
The second son of Willie North and the namesake of the first of our line
He just sat on the land that he collected over the years
No development, no revitalization, no selling
Just letting the land be.

The first of our line obviously valued owning and protecting that land
Perhaps Henry carries more from him than just a name
Just letting the land be.

Ushindi Cover 5, 30 x 22 in.

Groundings, Photo by the artist

Will North is a cultural worker based in Houston, Texas. Through his writings and artwork, he explores intergenerational connections in shared spaces. His recent work grew out of conversations he had with adolescents in community-based mentoring organizations. From these conversations, he was left with more questions. What are the lessons that are essential for these children to safely navigate this world? How can he take the best of prior generations and successfully utilize it in the service to the next? The resulting installations entered the world as large figure drawings, essays, and poetry that engage the history of the independent Black press.