In 2004, my husband (then boyfriend) and I attended a Martin Luther King celebration at the University of the District of Columbia. It was the beginning of the second semester of our first year of law school and we had no business being anywhere but the library. However, it was also the beginning of our relationship so in an effort to score brownie points (and other things new boyfriends hope to score) he convinced me to go by stating one simple fact: Sonia Sanchez would be there.
My favorite poet.
Understand, I have loved Ms. Sanchez since I was a teenager. I remember reading about the Black Arts Movement and learning about her, Nikki Giovanni, Amri Baraka and all the trailblazers of black literature and art in the late sixties and seventies, a time when art was an underutilized but amazingly powerful means of resistance. Nothing communicated the sentiment of the civil rights struggle better than art. I remember wanting to pump my fist and write poems about injustice and mourning civil rights leaders that were assassinated long before I was even alive. I loved it all but I really loved Ms. Sanchez.
But instead…
My mouth went dry and I stammered, “I… uh… you don’t understand… I luh you, uh, here my book…” To this day, my husband lies and tells me it wasn’t that bad but I assure you it was. Almost ten years later, I can still see her assistant standing beside her unable to contain his laughter.
What can I say, I’m a fan.
I dug Shake Loose My Skin out of my bookcase the other day. I was looking for a poem to send to a friend who needed some good words in her life. I was flipping through the book when I was side tracked by her autograph. She wrote: Walk beautifully, my sister! In love/struggle/peace, Sonia Sanchez.
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Apparently I needed some good words too.
Faye McCray 
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