I am so proud to attach the video of the poets reading their work created in response to Captive State: Louisiana and the Making of Mass Incarceration. The Historic New Orleans created a fantastic exhibit, and they were generous hosts to us as we explored and tried to put words on to what we were seeing.
The poets who participated (left to right):Sha’Condria “iCon Sibley, Gian Francisco Smith, Karisma Price, Jessica Kinnison, Kelly Harris-DeBerry, Christopher Louis Romaguera, Dr. Stacey Balkun, Dr. Mona Lisa Saloy, Louisiana Poet Laureate Alison Pelegrin
Not pictured, but instrumental to this event, is the incredible Dr. Megan Holt, pictured with myself, and, to my right, AE Rooks at the Louisiana Book Festival.
Here are my opening remarks:
Poetic Reflections on Captive State: The Making of Mass Incarceration in Louisiana
Here are my opening remarks:
I am outraged, but I will begin with thanks.
My name is Alison Pelegrin, Louisiana Poet Laureate. I am grateful to each and every one of you for being here this evening.
Thank you to Megan Holt–for her incredible vision and the legacy she is creating with Words & Music and One Book One New Orleans and for working with me to bring together this incredible lineup of poets about to lift their voices–Karisma, Kelly, Jessica, Gian, Mona Lisa, Sha’Condria “Icon,” Gian, Chris, Stacy
I am thankful to the Captive State Advisory Board for undertaking the telling of this most difficult history of mass incarceration in Louisiana in such a way that demands our attention.
Thank you to Eric Seiferth and Jessica Dorman from the Historic New Orleans Collection for collaborating over a period of months as we worked to make this event a reality.
Thank you to the Academy of American Poets for a Poet Laureate Fellowship that was made possible by funding from the Mellon Foundation.
Thank you to the Foundation for Louisiana, who was first to offer support as I began this work.
Thank you to Marianne Fisher Giorlando who walked the walk with me en route to the poetry group at Angola that first time.
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Sometimes poetry begins in silence, in a place outside of language. The first time I moved through the Captive state exhibit at HNOC I had no words at all. I wanted to run and hide. I couldn’t even think of what to write on a post it note in the reflective space that followed.
What does one say in response to the systemic racism and targeting of minorities–black and brown men especially–that have led to Louisiana’s position as the incarceration capital of the WORLD? How do we wake up and move through our days? It’s the same question you might ask of warfare or grief–how does the world go on while others are forgotten in the stifling dark?
I have no idea how Louisiana can even begin to answer this question, but I will say that my growing knowledge of so many different people and groups working for those impacted by the “justice” system gives me some sort of feeling. The easy word would be hope. And now I am turning it to the poets, because we are capable of dreaming and getting loud telling it how it is and listening is a good place to start.