Butts, the founder of African Voices, reminds us that Shange also celebrated this type of “Black Girl Magic”
before it was trendy. At a time when mental illness was rarely discussed openly, Shange was brave enough
to use the word “suicide” in the title of her play for the entire world to see. There’s an old expression that
states, “pain shared is pain divided,” and her work still masterfully unites and seeks to give the voiceless a
space to sit with the pain, and not be so strong that we fear reaching out for a hand to hold. In the spirit of
sisterhood, Ntozake Shange also found a place to placate us with humor, and song. Her own personal story
is interwoven into for colored girls in her effort to remind us that we are not alone. The viewer can see
pain doesn’t just land on dark skin or light skin. Pain is not color struck – it hurts no matter your level of
pigmentation or social status. None of us are truly impervious to pain. Just like in Nina Simone’s song “Four
Women,” Shange makes a case that we should recognize and celebrate our shared survival.
wanted us to protect our stuff: our bodies, our
“ Ntozake
minds and our spirits. ”
Shange’s most popular work makes the claim that we are beyond magical when we find ways to
uplift each other, even if it’s only during a six-week theatrical run. I truly enjoyed my time working with five
talented Black women. While we have all gone on to do our own separate things, there was individual and
collective healing going on when we were together. The monologue I performed includes an unforgettable
and repetitive line: “Somebody almost walked off with all of my stuff.” Ntozake wanted us to protect our
stuff: our bodies, our minds and our spirits. I dedicated a chapter to each of those things in my poetry book,
She Rose: on a journey from girl to Goddess. Somebody will “walk off with all of your stuff,” if you let
them. Every time I repeated that line about theft, I wanted it to be heard in every human way possible, until
the audience felt the urgency of it. Black women are known for performing miracles, but we are human,
and we do hurt. We know when we’ve been disrespected and severed with indifference. Maya Angelou and
Ntozake Shange both taught us how to be rainbows in a cloud. I am a survivor of physical and sexual abuse.
To anyone who’s ever been violated, it may feel like someone almost got away with the core of you, but
you’re still here for many reasons. I think we have more than one purpose in life. One of mine may have
been to participate in a creative rite of passage that was packaged as theatre; a ritual made specifically for
fragile, bitter, and broken colored girls, who should ideally be handled with care.
When you are in the business of transforming and saving lives, you can’t always stay in the shallow
end. Your poems, characters and songs have to tell the truth and it’s not always easy. I want to challenge my
fellow poets, actors and creatives to erase every line that doesn’t. Now more than ever, we need art that is
symbolic of a universal truth and work that heals. I want to thank Ntozake Shange for being a conduit and
spark for my own healing process. I want to thank her for not giving up on me or herself. I want to thank her
for showing us what self-care and compassion looks like. She found us in the corner and covered us in bold
and contrasting colors. She loved us fiercely. May she rest in eternal peace.
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african Voices