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Issue date:
February 11, 2001
They're the
pride of a generation. Cultural icons. Now, in a historic
event, USA WEEKEND unites today's leaders with the young talents
who will carry the dream into the 21st century.
In 1903,
educator and historian W.E.B. Du Bois pondered "the strange
meaning of being black here in the dawning of the 20th century."
Now, a new group of talented people defines the black experience
at the dawn of a new millennium.
For this USA WEEKEND exclusive, respected leaders in fields
ranging from film to fashion to education hand-picked talented
up-and-comers whose work they admire. The goal: Dialogue that
will help inspire future generations to carry on the challenge.
So sit back, eavesdrop and enjoy a unique front-row seat on
history.
Go to top
Theater
August Wilson
and Javon Johnson
Playwright August Wilson, 55, has made a career of documenting
the black experience, winning Pulitzer Prizes for Fences
(1987) and The Piano Lesson (1990). In December, on
the opening day of King Hedley II, his eighth play
in a series of 10, Wilson sat with Javon Johnson, a 27-year-old
playwright from Anderson, S.C., to discuss the politics of
black theater.
 |
| Johnson,
left, with Wilson on the set of Wilson's King Hedley
II at Chicago's Goodman Theatre |
August Wilson:
I first got involved in theater in 1968, at the height of
a social tumult. I was a poet. I got into theater in Pittsburgh
with the idea of using [it] as a tool to raise consciousness,
politicize the community.
Javon Johnson:
Mine was more of an accident. I was very observant. The theater
allowed me to tap into that inner spirit and those powers.
A.W.: I'm
trying to take culture and put it onstage, demonstrate it
is capable of sustaining you. There is no idea that can't
be contained by life: Asian life, European life, certainly
black life. My plays are about love, honor, duty, betrayal
-- things humans have written about since the beginning of
time.
J.J.: I
helped start a theater in Chicago, the Congo Square Company.
A flyer came out that included my play Hambone. It
labeled me as an African-American playwright. I looked at
the other writer bios; they were labeled playwrights. It bothered
me. Why can't I just be an artist? My generation is conscious
of this question.
A.W.:
As are we all. You have to make your own definition of yourself.
That's crucial. When I do interviews, I am expected to become
some sociologist. I have to speak to the condition of black
America. My preference would be: Let's talk about theater.
Let's talk about art. The fact that I am black is self-evident.
J.J.:
I've always been apolitical. I wanted to ask you: How much
responsibility I should own up to as far as representing the
African-American community?
A.W.: The black power movement of the '60s tried to force
people to write about certain things. What comes forth from
you as an artist cannot be controlled. But you have responsibilities
as a global citizen. Your history dictates your duty. And
by writing about black people, you are not limiting yourself.
The experiences of African Americans are as wide open as God's
closet.
J.J.:
It's a struggle to tell our stories because of the need for
validation. When we look at material written by whites, we
don't question it, and they're not insecure.
A.W.:
As soon as white folks say a play's good, the theater is jammed.
We have to get to the point where our reviews are just as
much validation as anybody's.
J.J.:
I'm going to adopt yet another one of your phrases: "The struggle
will continue ..."
A.W.: No
question about it, you have the gift. But along with it comes
the responsibility.
 Online Extra: Click
here for the complete interview transcript
-- Moderated by Ralph Wiley, author of Why Black
People Tend to Shout
Go to top
Education
Ruth Simmons
and Cecilia Elena Rouse
 |
| Simmons,
right, hosted Rouse at Smith College in Massachusetts. |
When Dr. Ruth
J. Simmons, 55, arrives at Brown University in
July, she will become the first black president of an Ivy
League institution. The Houston native, a divorced mother
of two, calls her ascent an accident of history, reasoning
it was bound to happen sometime. She's more excited by the
promise of her protégé, Cecilia Rouse, 37, a
Princeton economist from Walnut Creek, Calif. The two charted
a course for the future of black education last month in Simmons'
office at Smith College.
Ruth Simmons:
The economics of education is one of the most important things
we have to deal with. If we don't, we aren't going to have
the citizenry we need.
Cecilia Rouse:
Which comes back to the economic situation of the families,
and making sure the families can support their children going
to school from an early age. But what makes a school good?
For all of the research we do, we have little understanding
of what that is.
R.S.: The
important thing is to give students the tools to be educated,
but, more than that, to give them every encouragement to succeed.
C.R.: There's
some evidence if you look at an African-American and a white
student with the same SAT scores coming into college, the
[black] student's more likely to drop out. Why? They're coming
in equally prepared. There's this great unknown the country
hasn't come to terms with, which is the legacy of slavery
and racism in society. It comes into play in a way we don't
fully understand.
R.S:
Exactly. And what historically black colleges do is invaluable.
Were it not for those institutions, educated African Americans
would be far fewer in number. I ended up going to a historically
black college [Dillard University in New Orleans] because
I wanted to major in theater. And I didn't want to be relegated
to playing black roles in a white university. It was a wonderful
experience.
C.R.:
I want an institution to [teach] the love of learning, the
importance of independent thought, respecting what others
believe and, therefore, promoting informed dialogue.
R.S.: I
want lots of successful models that are different. Because
we're very different. I want a kid coming from Nevada
to be able to find his way to a small place that has a special
mission unlike any other.
Online Extra: Click
here for the complete interview transcript
-- Moderated by Harry Allen, "hip-hop activist"
Go to top
Cinema
Spike Lee and
Lee Davis
 |
| Davis,
left, with Lee on a Manhattan soundstage |
Ever since Spike
Lee first stirred up moviegoers with his 1986 indie
sleeper She's Gotta Have It, Hollywood hasn't looked
at black-themed films quite the same. Lee, 44, who went on
to direct 15 features, including the controversial School
Daze, Do the Right Thing and Malcolm X,
was nominated for two Academy Awards. Throughout his career,
Lee has made it a point to express the divergent views of
the black community, to tell stories that generate talk. But
he's almost as famous for discovering new talent. His latest
find is Lee Davis, 33, one of Variety's 10 Screenwriters
to Watch in 2000. Spike produced Davis' 3 A.M., out
this year. They recently met to discuss the landscape of black
cinema.
Spike Lee:
When I started, Michael Schultz was the only black director
working. You had Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy. That was
it. It was Hollywood Shuffle and SGHI that really
changed the landscape. That's when you had a lot more black
films being made. The technology has helped, too. Today, we're
shooting feature films with [digital camcorders]. And also
DVDs. You can use those as learning tools. With freeze frame
and bonus features, they're like repertory theaters.
Lee Davis:
My father used to take me to movies all the time. That's when
I started falling in love with film. I always used to write
stories throughout high school and college.
S.L.:
[To succeed as a director], you've gotta have talent, drive,
luck and time. You want to be recognized, especially when
you're a young talent and not taking a particular slant. Otherwise,
you're just regurgitating what's out there.
L.D.: Because
of Spike and [a few others] in the '80s and '90s, we've been
able to get a chance to [tell] the types of stories we want.
But it's still tough to get them made. The Hughes brothers
are making From Hell -- and no, I don't think in the
'80s two brothers from [the 'hood] would be directing a film
in Prague about Jack the Ripper -- but it took them five years
to make that film.
S.L.:
Of all the arts, black cinema is way behind. There's a reason
we're behind: because of how much it costs to finance and
distribute movies. We should strive to equal what we've done
in music and literature. I'd like to see more African-American
women directors. More of our stories, not the same old thing
again and again. Not all black people live in the city or
come from a single-parent home.
L.D.:
Diversity only comes about when you have people courageous
enough to give it a shot and say, "Let's try this. Is it going
to make $300 million? I don't know. But let's make this story."
Online Extra: Click here for the complete interview transcript
-- Moderated by Craigh Barboza, USA WEEKEND associate
editor
Go to top
Literature
Nikki Giovanni
and Edwidge Danticat
 |
| Danticat,
left, met with Giovanni at a Washington book store |
Renowned poet
Nikki Giovanni first gained prominence in the late
1960s as a voice of the Black Arts Movement. Now a University
Distinguished Professor at Virginia Polytechnic Institute
and State University, Giovanni hails the work of Haitian-born
novelist Edwidge Danticat, 32, as "sheer genius." Danticat
is the author of three novels, the first of which, Krik?
Krak!, was a finalist for 1995's National Book Award.
The two swapped words on the state of black literature at
the Politics and Prose bookstore in Washington, D.C.
Nikki Giovanni:
What I enjoy about reading anything you do is you're
a strong woman. I like courage. Because things have to be
said.
Edwidge Danticat: The women in my family told stories. I was
shy; I couldn't raise my voice in the chorus. I started writing
stories, and when I moved to New York [at 12], I was encouraged
to share them.
N.G.: [Today's
black writers] have a community they no longer have to be
self-conscious about. You can do that trashy stuff Rosalyn
McMillan does, Terry's sister. You can do any number of things.
E.D.: There
no longer has to be only one person in each category. There's
not the idea that this publishing house only has to take one
[black writer].
N.G.: My
generation came with a level of burden. We had to overthrow
a lot. It's what Langston Hughes said: "We will express our
own dark-skinned selves." We were aware of representing a
group.
E.D.:
I hear people saying, "I don't want to be a black writer.
I want to be just a writer." I don't think it's a detrimental
label. I know people who struggle against it, against having
their book in a certain section at a store. One is not a generic
person. If they are, they are going to end up with a generic
book.
N.G.:
I grew up with a hundred books you should read before college.
I [am] a big fan of an expanded canon. You've got to read
Frederick Douglass. You've got to know Souls of Black Folk.
How could you be educated, white, black [or whatever] and
not know one of the most beautiful books ever written? Of
course, you have to read Toni Morrison. But how can you not
know Ernest Gaines -- everything he ever wrote? Gaines is
the most marvelous writer to never win the Nobel Prize.
E.D.:
I'd like to see our own Nobel. Not that I want to exclude
others. But to have the Gwendolyn Brooks award be as cool
to get as the Pulitzer -- I would like to see that in 30 years.
Online Extra: Click
here for the complete interview transcript
-- Moderated by Michele Hatty, who covers arts and culture
for USA WEEKEND
Go to top
Fashion
FUBU and Willie
Esco Montanez
|
Willie
Esco Montanez, above, and FUBU founders Brown, left,
John, Martin and Perrin
|
Years ago, black
youth wore Tommy Hilfiger and Timberland boots
in ways that reconfigured the prep-wear and mountain gear
to fit in the urban jungle. Now those same kids have grown
up to make clothes for themselves. FUBU, founded in 1992 by
Queens natives Daymond John, 30, Carl Brown, 29, Keith Perrin,
29, and J. Alexander Martin, 30, was ranked No. 2 among New
York's largest minority-owned companies in 2001 by Crain's.
Another is Esco, run by 32-year-old Willie Esco Montanez.
We spoke with them about the business of fashion.
Keith Perrin:
I'm that same kid looking for the [hot new style]. I am the
consumer. The problem is getting [department store] buyers
to understand. Lemme tell a buyer new Bentleys are in this
color and that's why it'll be hot, and he'll say, "These kids
ain't buying Bentleys." He doesn't understand our customers.
Willie Esco:
The thing about designing is you want to have your own label,
but you may just be doing $2 skirts for the rest of your life.
You gotta be willing to be happy with that, if you love designing.
J. Alexander
Martin: All designers shop twice a year in Europe
and [throughout] the States to see what's out there.
Carl Brown: Whenever
you meet people you check their shoes, cuffs, laces, details,
collars.
Daymond John:
A lot of times we'll wear [some other designer] just to see
how many comments we get from people on the street.
K.P.: The
sweater Willie's wearing right now isn't Esco. He might wear
that for only three hours.
W.E.:
That's part of a designer's education. Back in the day, we
used to just get a sweatsuit and throw a logo on it. Now we
shop for fabrics, colors -- everything.
Online Extra: Click
here for the complete interview transcript
-- Moderated by Touré, whose book of short stories,
Life in Soul City, will be published this fall
Go to top
Religion
Calvin Butts
and Darrell Griffin
|
|
 |
| Butts,
left, calls Griffin "a model of whee religious leadership
is heading in the 21st century." |
Dr. Calvin Butts,
51, outspoken pastor of Harlem's Abyssinian Baptist
Church, is a longtime advocate of economic self-determination
in the black community. Since 1989, Abyssinian's development
branch has overseen $75 million in urban renewal projects,
resulting in 600 housing units. Butts called on the Rev. D.
Darrell Griffin, 35, of Chicago's historic Oakdale Covenant
Church, to discuss religion's evolving role.
Calvin Butts:
Leadership in the church is about meeting people's needs.
It's congruous with the ministry of Jesus: feeding the hungry,
clothing the naked, housing the homeless. Rev. Griffin's ministry
is exceptional because it's in keeping with the best business
practices.
Darrell Griffin:
The black church has always been the center of the community.
Whether or not the church is prepared for its increased role
in community development, it will step up. Think about the
civil rights movement: The church wasn't equipped to deal
with the legal aspects. As we get more into community development,
we have to invest in our infrastructure. We need to hire individuals
[with] expertise in community development -- fund-raising,
social workers, educators. Even parishioners are a resource;
they have just never been "tapped." They've taught Sunday
school or organized church events. Now we're saying, "You
run a business. Why don't you teach us? You're a lawyer. Hold
a legal clinic at our church."
C.B.: It
all takes second seat to advocacy on behalf of poor people.
If the mayor says, "We have the land to develop 200 units
of low-income housing. As long as you and I get along, you
can have that development." That means I have to keep quiet
while the police are running unchecked through my community.
But I can't. That's one of the things that makes Rev. Griffin
different. He doesn't sacrifice the prophetic ministry to
meet an immediate social need.
D.G.:
That's right. Everything we do must educate and empower. The
moral foundation is so important, because this is tough work.
We're out in the heart of the community. It's not always glamorous,
the rewards are sometimes few, but this is a calling.
Online Extra: Click
here for the complete interview transcript
-- Moderated by Minna Proctor, now working on a book
about the ministry
Go to top
Business
Ken Lombard
and Denita Willoughby
|
|
 |
Lombard,
left, and Willoughby agree blacks should not be wary of
the corporate world.
|
In 1994, Kenneth
Lombard, 46, became president of Magic Johnson
Development, a black-owned company catering to disadvantaged
neighborhoods. Today, MJD is a business empire with $500 million
in property. Lombard has secured joint ventures with Starbucks
and T.G.I. Fridays and helped build a hugely successful chain
of multiplexes. Recently, he spoke with Denita Willoughby,
34, director of business enterprises at Pacific Bell, about
the bifurcated position black businesspeople find themselves
in today.
Ken Lombard:
I started my career in corporate America, with IBM. A lot
of people feel like they don't want to work for anybody and
that corporate America is bad. But [that training] is absolutely
imperative. That's not to say if the opportunity is right
[for you to start your own business] that you don't jump.
But make sure you've developed the skills to allow yourself
to succeed.
Denita Willoughby:
To be a successful entrepreneur, you also need that financing
component. And unfortunately, most African Americans don't
come from wealthy families. We don't have a directory of black
venture capital companies willing to provide seed capital.
K.L.: You
need to study the [financing] options and look for someone
with expertise. There's no need to reinvent the wheel when
you can hire someone successful and pick their brain to see
if there are ideas you can carry forth.
D.W.:
It really makes me proud to know we have an African American
heading Fannie Mae. We've got Ken Chenault at American Express.
Ray Wilkins as the CEO of Pacific Bell. Sylvia Rhone at Elektra
Records. Charles Childers at the head of Nortel. When you
have black senior executives leading major corporations, it
sets a path.
Online Extra: Click
here for the complete interview transcript
-- Moderated by Jeannine Amber, a freelance writer
|
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As
part of Black History Month specials, see Javon Johnson from this USA WEEKEND article,
on 
