Langston Hughes Centennial, 1902-1967: The beat goes on

New Crisis, The, Jan/Feb 2002 by Graham, Maryemma

Hughes has a special significance for children. Not only did he write a host of books for young readers, but he remains a favorite "recitation" poet.

Tony Medina has written Love to Langston (Lee and Low), an imaginative rendering of Hughes' life. This "verse biography" allows Hughes to speak through Medina, who says, "Langston's was the first brown face I had ever seen looking out at me from the cover of a book - a face that reminded me of my face and the faces of my family."

Medina is one of many who believe that Hughes provides children with a unique opportunity to understand their communities and confirm who they are. "When I was young, Langston was painting my world with words, both plainspoken and lyrically sweet and sassy," he says.

Writer Mariahadessa Ekere Tallie finds Hughes' "simple elegance" important for her own poetry. "His legacy inspires us to see writing as a form of resistance and an act of love," says the New York poet.

Mississippi-based poet Charlie Braxton agrees.

"Hughes made the collective voices of working-class African Americans sound so eloquent in his work. ...It is a tradition I gladly follow."

If Hughes' literary practice had pointed the way, it was left to those who came later to explain a complex sensibility that had escaped critics, with the notable exception of Sterling Brown.

Award-winning poet Elizabeth Alexander regards Hughes as "our first guide to thinking about a poetics that literally incorporates the blues and jazz into poetry as form as well as subject matter." According to Alexander, writing in a Hughes tradition occurs when you "try to hear and feel the blues as a constant undercurrent." While most poets see the obvious in Hughes, Alexander's focus on poetics takes us in a different direction.

"He was a master of economy," she says. "His best lyrics, such as `Dream Variations,' hit their mark without an extra ounce of fat - a kind of lushness in economy."

When another generation of Black critics and writers sought a new way to talk about their critical explorations and expositions, they coined a new phrase, "the Black aesthetic," a defining feature of the Black Arts Movement. With the decline of that movement, however, we are still struggling to understand and articulate the practical aspects of a process that sustains a rich oral tradition. Just how is it that diverse elements of African American culture transform from their southern folk roots, merge with the fast-paced life of the city, reshape what is heard and/or seen in print, and give the spoken word, either alone or with music, the upper hand?

The answer is not so clear. Still, each generation seems to find its way in this world of expression, setting its own pace and priorities, finding its own voice. Washington Post book critic and writer Jabari Asim notes that the "post-integration generation" is one with many voices, multifaceted and "without a strong manifesto." He quickly adds, however, that "the absence of a prevailing sense of urgency should not lead one to deem the new generation of poets as apolitical or apathetic."