Marcel "Fable the Poet" Price

Name: Marcel "Fable the Poet" PriceHometown: Lansing, Michigan residing in Grand Rapids, Michigan.Age: 26Age You First Fell in Love: 21Love Is: A best friendship with the opposite sex. And that means it can be a mother that's a best friend, that's the opposite sex. It could be a sister, it could be a significant other. It's somebody that you trust and adore.I was blessed to meet Fable the Poet during his feature at The Eclectic Truth Open Mic and Poetry Slam, hosted by Baton Rouge's The Poetry Alliance (every Tuesday, 8pm, 427 Laurel Street).  What struck me the most about Fable's writing was his ability to convey raw emotion while performing each piece. He speaks candidly about mental health and the importance of recognizing mental health issues and finding a way to heal. I'm very thankful Fable spoke with me during his visit to Louisiana.You can find more of his work, here.Monique: How old were you the first time you fell in love?Fable: (huffs and laughs) I mean the first time I thought I was in love, maybe 15-16, but when I really fell in love, I was probably like 21.M: And what was the difference [in the type of love] between 15 and 21?F: Being in high school and losing your virginity and thinking that sex has something to do with love. And then actually understanding what it is to fall for a person and having them fall for you.M: So then, what is love to you?F: Love is a best friendship with the opposite sex. And that means it can be a mother that's the best friend, that's the opposite sex. It could be a sister, it could be a significant other. It's somebody that you trust and adore.M: As far as being from Michigan, I've never been and the only thing I know about the state is Detroit, which has this kind of Phoenix from the Ashes story and it's waiting to rise from those ashes. How would you say being from Michigan has molded your life, how you self-identify, being biracial and what does that mean in the Michigan landscape?F: What I always tell people is that I feel like being from Michigan makes you patient. Just because of the way our seasons work, it seems like you go through a long period of cold; where you're waiting to go out, where you're waiting to socialize, where you're waiting to thaw and come back to life, which is actually what it is. I would definitely say it makes you patient.When you say what it means to be biracial, I think it means just to be an individual, just another person. There's really nothing special about it. I would say owning your identity is key to being biracial. If you're like me and grew up in an urban environment, you're always "too dark or too light" for different groups and different people, so it's really just learning yourself and learning your identity and owning it.M: In light of all of these murders and protests, do you feel like your voice has a place in conversations of Black Lives Matter and race issues?F: I feel that any person of color is almost always going to come from the same place. Some people look at me and expect me to be more sentimental or expect me to be more lenient on their opinion because I am mixed and they say, "Oh well, you're going to understand this side of it.", and it's like no, people are still dying unjustly. There's no difference. If you're a person of color, you're a target. I've probably had a gun pulled on me five or six times in my life, growing up back home where we're from and I've had to deal with the law, unfortunately more than times than I would like just through stupid experiences. The police are scary and I think that if you're a person of color, you understand that, for sure. I don't think there is a difference of opinion.M: What inspired you to begin to create?F: I really write for healing. And I write for the youth that I work with because my words help them get through situations they're going through and help them realize they're not alone. Like I said, I grew up [in the] innercity and I had an English teacher who saw I was failing out of school and she said, "I'll make a deal with you; you don't have to do another assignment for the rest of the year if you just turn in a piece of creative writing every single day. It could be a short story, it could be a true story, it could be something you started and just bs'd, I just want to see you write." I was like, "Alright, for sure." And I did, like, a lot of stories, my mom gave me this little book of fables; making animals talk as humans, traditional fables and literature. And I just gave her a lot of stories. She ended up sending me to a creative writing camp at the University of Michigan, The Ann Arbor Slam Team at the time was putting on and they really nurtured me as a writer and got me to where I am. It was the only thing that stayed consistent in my life.M: In terms of writing as healing, what would you say is the most important thing for people to understand in regards to mental health and persons of color? It's definitely something we're often not given the space to talk about. There are so many other burdens that we seem to have to face; where mourning or grief is kind of looked at as a weakness in terms of surviving and living your day to day.F: I feel like you pretty much hit the nail on the head. People of color grow up and they're stereotypically plagued with so many instances; like if you grow up in an urban environment there's a lot of homes that don't have both parents, there's poverty, there's the loss of jobs and the inability to get a job. I feel that a lot of people, especially the older generation, mental illness is just something that's so taboo. They're so used to being like "Hey, pull up your bootstraps and keeping fighting, keep pushing.", that it's something a lot of people don't own and don't recognize. But I feel like it's something you have to recognize because it is a very real thing. And I talk about it pretty crass as someone who was diagnosed with it and somebody that has found the ability to cope with it through writing. Until you learn a way to cope, until you find this medical cocktail that's right for you, until you do whatever it is to make yourself a better person or a more functioning person, that's the issue within itself. People really need to find what works for them.

Love Poems: Mango

[embed]https://soundcloud.com/blackloveprjct/mango[/embed]i wrote this while i ate a mango with my right handi licked the juices that ran down my armmy mouth was full of yellow fruitand i imagined this is how your skin would tasteif i brushed my lips against ithow sweet it isi bite deeper into the flesh,peel the skin with my teeththis is how my mother taught meto eat a mango. this is how her mothertaught her to eat a mango. this is howLiberia taught us to eat a mango.to the bone. sitting down. close to earth.did you know that i see the weather in your eyes?we are in drought, my loveyou have not cried in yearsi want to know the things you've seenshow me your bonestell me real Richmond talesblack kinghow strange it must beto live in a world that does not bow at your feetthey have made a slave of youthey have made a slave of youthey have made a slave of you, my godthey have changed your name from man to niggaand sometimes you've answeredyour world is littered with black bodies searchingsearching for something better than thissearching for a way outsearching for a place to call homethis land of the free wants nothing to do with your freedomit wants you to die a thousand deaths in one dayit wants your sweat and blood and silenceit is the thing this country is made ofblack silence. black sufferance.white houses built by black hands upon red bonesthey have made a slave of youand every day is anotherchance at liberationbaby, get freefind that kingdom that rests inside your headand in the darkest of nightsas the world turns on your shouldersknow that my love is with youit is heavy and aching and patientto the bone. for the soul. close to God.this is how my mother taught me to love a man.this is how her mother taught her to love a man.this is how our bloodlines taught us to love a man. 

Sample Sunday: I Can't Stand the Rain: Of Black Women's Innovation in Afrofuturism and Music

Song: I Can't Stand the RainArtist: Ann PeeblesAlbum: I Can't Stand the RainReleased: 1974, Hi RecordsWriters: Ann Peebles, Don Bryant, Bernard "Bernie" MillerSampled By: Missy Elliott, Supa Dupa Fly (The Rain), Supa Dupa Fly, 1997. The Goldmind/Elektra.[audio mp3="https://blackloveproject.files.wordpress.com/2015/05/01-i-cant-stand-the-rain.mp3"][/audio]I: Do you remember how it used to be?Ann Peebles' single, I Can't Stand the Rain begins with an electronic timbale beating out the rhythm of rain drops as Peebles' soothing voice rolls in like a soft thunder storm; a melancholic and Afrofuturistic rainy day. It is a thick and funky tune that carries elements of pure southern soul and an emerging use of technology in music. 1974 was a year that, aside from a socio-politically ripe environment, saw great movement in the exploration of technology and this translated to music.  There arose space-aged musical exploration in the likes of Parliament-Funkadelic, Bootsy Collins and Sly and The Family Stone.Artists like these were  children of the Jim Crow Era, an important time in the evolution of black music in the United States. They created music that explained the black experience in another dimension; envisioning and creating an environment where black self-expression was fully autonomous of white supremacist ideals, but not completely unaffected by such an environment. This is the birth of  musical Afrofuturism, before the movement had a name. Musicians of this era created not just music but a lifestyle of otherworlds and dimensions; a true mothership connection. What were artists to do but create an otherworld, when racial tension, the Vietnam War and economic disparities plagued so many black communities? Black people were living a strange experience and this experience is heard in the music created.What was not lost in this new sound was the topic of love. As sonically influential as funk and soul are, they were not above being crafted around love. Love is independent of any socio-political occurrence. People fall in love in the middle of trauma and find its light in the darkest corners. Even as Ann Peebles experimented with this new emerging sound, she stayed true to her Memphis soul roots and a good ole love song about lost love and sweet memories. No matter what dimension, this sentiment is relatable to everyone.II: It be me, me, me and Timothy:Fast forward twenty-three years, on May 20, 1997 Missy Elliott released The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)  and a month later the world was gifted with one of the most visually stimulating and innovative music videos. Musically, 1997 witnessed a new sound rising from the ashes of a post Tupac and Biggie hip hop. Many black artists began tapping into methods of self expression that went way beyond the artistic box reserved for black musicians. This is the same year we are introduced to Erykah Badu, Busta Rhymes enjoys a breakout year with When Disaster Strikes, and OutKast were one year nestled into ATLien exploration. So it is here that we see a rise in trend of an 'otherness' in music; a lot of that can be attributed to Missy Elliott and Timbaland.  Together, they created a sound that was not of this world and was something hip hop had not yet seen. It is an electronically charged sound that blends traditional and innovate rhythms of black music.Far from the super sexualized personas of her contemporaries, Missy's undeniable creativity kept her from becoming a slave to her sexuality, as women in hip hop are often forced to do. Missy Elliott's creative genius and self expression  expanded way beyond the parameters of the box many black artists are placed in, measured by pressure from labels and socio-cultural expectations.   The song and video showcased Missy's ability to take complete control of her vision, sexuality and lyricism. Together, Missy and Hype Williams crafted a fish-eyed view of the exploration of Afrofuturism in the 90s. Through I Can't Stand the Rain (Supa Dupa Fly), III: Bringing back sweet memoriesIt is telling and important that Missy Elliott chose I Can't Stand the Rain as a sample. Missy Elliott's generation is the children of Ann Peebles'. The music was the soundtrack of their childhood and when mixed with the sounds created of new black experiences, there came the sound we know to be Missy Elliott. Sitting on top of hills like Lauryn in trash bags and sun glasses. Ann Peebles laid the groundwork for musical experimentation, particularly for black women, who do not often receive honor for their musical innovation. Following the idea of blending past and future in the present, Missy Elliott invoked the creativity of Ann Peebles' to inspire her own. In turn, both women have become a part in the musical archiving of the movements  and growth of Afrofuturism in music.

Love Poems: For the Women We Don't March For

[embed]https://soundcloud.com/blackloveprjct/love-poems-for-the-women-we-dont-march-for[/embed]sisteri call your name three timesto let the ancestors know they should make room for youyou are coming homeyou have become another picturethat will be added to our altars of griefwe will pray to you and ask what this life is forblack woman, you gave birth to this worldand is it not the African way to carry our children on our backs?how do you not break with so much weight?how much more of your blood will they ask for?how much of your pain will they ignore?your body has been both mother and muleblack men hold their stiffness from across the streetand call you bitch.they have not yet forgiven themselves for being angry with their motherswho could not make their fathers stayyou will love them anyway. you will fight for them anyway.white men salivate at the way your body curvesthey will call you exotic and ask where you are fromthey want to know if black pussy is as sweet as brown sugarthe rolling stones told them sothey will not invite you home to meet their parentsthey cannot bear that shamewhite women will ask to touch your hairpet youthey will call themselves feministsfighting for the right to show their bodiesthen will hire your mother to scrub their floors and raise their childrenoh my sisterthis life is not an easy onethis thing you created is not an easy oneblessed melaninno one weeps for you, they shed no tearsthe earth returns unto itself a thousand times in one dayat night when you weep in heavy solitudeand in the morning when your flowers open themselves to another day

Love Poems: For Akuvi

[embed]https://soundcloud.com/blackloveprjct/for-akuvi[/embed]my mothermy sweet, warm mother.her dark skin glows with years of wisdom and sorrowmy sweet, foreign motherMonrovia's girlmy strong motherthick bodied but gentlelong fingers crooked and softly withered by labor and timei want to weep while i lay in her lapwe will not always have these momentsshe will return to Godshe has never belonged to mebut i have always been hersshe has taught me to work until my fingers bleedto work through a bleeding heartto pray to God when the dawn comesand in the stillness of nights when God speaksshe bleeds for meher heart breaks with my ownshe’s seen it before in her own lightshe knows the way to healingi gladly rest my head on her breaststhose nourishing moundsi listen to her heart beat to find my way

Love Poems: Vanity

[embed]https://soundcloud.com/blackloveprjct/vanity[/embed]you once said something about being a reflection of meif that is the casethen you've shown me i am beautifulblack and proudin you i see how lonely and sadand selfish i amhow strong and full of hope i amhow small i feelhow i carry my wounds like crosses toCalvary and call out my Holy Father's nameAdonai, it is finishedGolgotha weepsi use words to describe love i've only dreamed ofbut have never tasteddo not know how to givei whisper bedtime stories to lovers about past life love affairsand caresses that stop timeyou inside of meme on top of youbodies writhingin rhythms given by ancestors'we are one', you saidgrowing seedsbrown babies who will notsee the things we've seenwill not know sorrowmaybe a better family than we hadmaybe this will eat our lonelinessmaybe if we call it lovewe will forget that goodbyes come unexpectedlybut they always comeit is truei do see myself in youi recognize untold pains masked in solid shellsometimes i crumble when the morning breaksmy roots ache and stretchsomething calls to me from the fog of these bayousis it you or me?oh loveryou have shown me your true colorsyou have shown me myself in multitudesso i thank youAdonai, it is finishedGolgotha weeps

Johnny Was: An Examination of Black Grief

Song: Johnny WasArtist: Bob Marley and The WailersAlbum: Rastaman VibrationWriter: Bob Marley, credited to Rita MarleyReleased: April 30, 1976, Island Records. Tuff Gong.  (album)[audio mp3="https://blackloveproject.files.wordpress.com/2015/04/3-06-johnny-was.mp3"][/audio]

Woman hold her head and cry. As her son had been shot down in the street and died just because of the system.

2015 is littered with murders of black men, women and children at the hands of law enforcement and white vigilantes. Rather, there is more media coverage of said murders. These incidents birthed a new era of protest and activism against harsh policing, particularly against black and brown communities in the United States. Since the August 9, 2014 murder of Mike Brown, the world has erupted in marches, die-ins and various methods of civil disobedience. The chant "Black Lives Matter," echoing to shame a system that murders its black citizens once every twenty-eight hours. It also challenges the manner in which the American justice system negatively affects the livelihood of its black citizens. As more of these stories surface, the image of mourning black families is becoming all too familiar. The manner in which these cases are portrayed in the American media is telling of the desensitization towards black death.Parents are forced to bypass the stages of grief, instead having to defend the humanity of their children. They must excuse any past transgressions and plead that the lives of their children do in fact matter. There is no time to fully mourn. This continues a suppression of emotion as a means of survival, an act historically imposed upon 'minority' groups. The stereotype of the black mammy is an example of this suppression; stripped of her own children and in the midst of grief forced to raise a white master all while maintaining an image of strength. This strength under burden has been the weight of black families the moment Europeans set foot in our spaces. Our intellectual and emotional capabilities are undermined in order to maintain the racist idea that we are nothing more than bodies and therefore do not have emotional bonds. There is the idea that black people do not feel nor love. Surviving in oppressive environments forces many to ignore their mental and emotional states.  It would seem that for a lot of us, mourning gets in the way of surviving.

How can she work it out? Now she knows that the wages of sin is death, if Jah Jah is life. 

The topic of police brutality against black bodies is often countered with statistics of black on black crime. An argument asserting that if there is no self value within a community, then no outside group will respect said community. The argument isn't a solid one, as most murder victims are murdered by someone of their own race. That is not to say that we should ignore the pockets of our communities that suffer from extreme violence. Yet, it is important we do so with a critical lens.  Marley refers to a system and a sin responsible for Johnny's death, essentially a cause and its effect. The system, or the cause is global socio-political and economic policies that are responsible for the corruption and oppression of poor black and brown communities. Poor education, poverty, lack of opportunity and a so-called War on Drugs are by-products of such systems. The sin, or the effect become the corrupted environments which in turn breed corrupted minds. The sin stands as an example of the raw human instinct to survive in concrete jungles.  Black people are not the only people to do this. Superficially, we view violent neighborhoods as nothing more than that, but on a deeper level what we are witnessing are outcomes of war zones. We must understand the psychological damage suffered by these populations. Many black people suffer from unacknowledged and untreated Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and depression.  When we see protests like those in Ferguson and the so-called Baltimore Uprising, what we are witnessing is the physical manifestation of unexpressed grief and rage.

Can a woman's tender care cease towards the child she bears?

Turn to any media outlet and these murders become sensationalized stories for a consumptive audience. We feed off of these murders, the videos and pictures are tangible evidence of our pain and outrage.  I can never bring myself to watch the filmed murders, as it makes the situation more personal than it already feels. When another murder is announced, I always view the victims as someone I may have known, or they remind me of people I know and love. Aside from the systemic and systematic reasons as to why these murders are a shame, what evokes feeling is the thought that the next victim could be someone you know. Robert Nesta Marley, a product of communities affected by white supremacy and capitalism,  wrote the story of many families from a deeply personal level. Families who weep for the loss of a loved one who has fallen victim to an environment not created for their survival. Johnny Was is a song about a woman mourning her son. Plain and simple. Outside of the system, outside of inquisitive passersby, outside of his sins, that was her son. "Johnny was a good man." Let's Discuss: How have you been taught to deal with grief?