|

Hammad’s world of art
and activism
Palestinian-American
poet and political activist Suheir Hammad's voice is unique with its
fusion of Palestinian and Arab culture and politics with Hip Hop
sensibility. Vijay Dandige blends himself with a gamut of emotions
that hope to bring about some change
Every vision needs an artist, every cause,
an activist. In one corner of
America, that job falls to Suheir Hammad, poet, raconteuse,
torch-bearer, espouser extraordinaire. She was born in Amman to
Palestinian parents. When she was four, she was whisked away to
Brooklyn, New York where she studied and grew up. Today, at 5' 9",
she stands as a striking woman with chiselled features.
Thirty-one-year old Suheir Hammad has flowered into a
Palestinian-American poet and political activist. Her poems, as well
as her books Born Palestinian, Born Black and Drops of This Story,
have received critical acclaim, establishing her as one of
America's foremost young artists. As part of the Def Poetry Jam
show, she was the first Palestinian to ever receive a Tony Award on
Broadway. She has also been published in numerous periodicals and
anthologies, including Essence, Stress Hip-Hop Magazine and 33
Things Every Girl Should Know About Women's History. She has bagged
several poetry awards, including NYU's Emerging Artist Award. Hammad
is a frequent reader at New York reading venues, including numerous
radio appearances.
Apart from her creative work, she has written and spoken out
about issues such as the defence of Mumia Abu-Jamal, domestic
violence, sexual abuse, racism, and homophobia. Hammad's voice is
unique with its fusion of Palestinian and Arab culture and politics
with Hip Hop sensibility - the form of creative expression giving
voice to young, ethnic, urban populations that exploded into the
American mainstream in the early 80s.
On her way to
Jordan, Suheir Hammad recently stopped at Dubai and gave a reading
of her poetry at Five Green, a trendy boutique that is the hub for
art, fashion and musical events in the city. She spoke to Weekend in
this exclusive interview.
When and how did you start
writing?
Many writers, and I include myself among them, begin writing
when they started reading. I started at the age of 5. Even though I
didn't consciously think of myself as a writer where you put down
words on a page in a narrative form. Reading books was my absolute
imagination and reality at the same then. So, the love affair that
started with books, poetry, novels etc. at a young age was the
origin of my writing. I do believe that if your vocation is writing,
you begin when you experience the art form as a reader or as an
audience member the first time.
When do you think your poetry
became activist, rather than merely an art form?
I don't think there ever was a separation, either personally
or professionally for me. I don't think you can exclude your
political situation and circumstances from your art. Some people do
it, but in my opinion it is not organic - to your art and to your
personal experiences and convictions. My political awareness was
always there in my poems since young age, though the first poem that
I read out publicly was in 1982 about my uncle, Hammad who was
killed by Israeli and Lebanese forces in
Lebanon. I was 19 then. Till then, I was writing and keeping it to
myself.
On one hand, you are known to
be very passionate about your Arab roots. On the other, you freely
use these ultra-modern expressions in your poems, words that are
almost taboo in many cultures. How do you explain this phenomenon?
Many people live outside of their ancestral homeland. And
whatever the dominant narrative is, these forces, of your lineage
and the present, can become opposing or complementing forces within
you. Growing up in an urban Brooklyn
neighbourhood within a refugee immigrant home, I saw the same
contradictions when it came to freedom of speech and freedom of
movement, in both communities. I grew up in a Muslim household and I
also grew up in a hip hop culture, which is very much like poetry,
with a beat and a rhyme. Everywhere you go in the world, whatever
the language is, you will find that the streets, the community and
grass roots people use their own language. So, these two influences
or origins of oration and cadence and rhyme and content came
together within me and flowered as my expression. And I don't
believe in separating poetry and literature from everyday
experiences and everyday people. So, simply, I know that I come from
Brooklyn as much as I come from a Palestinian refugee camp.
How do you experience living
in
America, especially when there is this shadow over Arab people?
The idea or assumption that there is a shadow against Arab
Americans or Asians in general is not different from the effects of
disenfranchisement found all over
America. What I have always known is that there is more than one
America, and I always had a different experience. I experienced
America as a poet immigrant, as working class people, not as a
daughter of wealthy assimilated educated people. And that is a very
different America than the one sold on cable and TV and through the
White House. Poets use words and language. The only craft that uses
absolute communicative tools is poetry. For me, it is a blessed
place to be in, to use the tools that people can use to destroy or
dehumanise or to silence, and to take these exact same words and put
them in different order, with a different intention to illuminate,
either an image or a story. So, there is this connection for me that
I can go into a refugee camp in Palestine
or a ghetto in Scotland,
and see completely different languages and movements and still feel
that I understand the experience.
You have written about Palestine, sexual abuse, racism, domestic violence, women etc. Do you believe
your words have the power to achieve anything or change conditions?
I can only speak from my own experience. And I've been
transformed by the vision of other artists. I've read or heard a
poem and viewed a work of art and seen the world differently,
because of that artist's vision. I believe that if an artist is sure
of his or her art, creates something true and real, from the deep
recesses of the heart, consistently reviews, refines and challenges
his or her intention within the art, then there is no doubt that
there will be people for whom the expression of that art resonates
so deeply that they are changed. And for me, it's people who
populate the world, not corporations and governments. I don't think
you set out to change governments and corporations. You set out to
express yourself, to transform your own self, your vision of your
own presence in the world through your writing. And if one person
reads your poem and says: "Yeah, I felt this but didn't express it
this way, or I never saw it this way" - that's good enough. So, I
believe that my writing has the potential that it will change one
person. I don't aspire to more or less than that. I write many
things that I never publish. But the things I publish, I think I
have a responsibility to care that it goes down well into the world
- because the whole concept of sharing your work is to have an
interaction with the audience.
You are well known in America but have a low profile in the Middle East.
Doesn't it bother you, especially since your work often champions
the cause of your people?
I've been writing professionally for over 10 years. The
notoriety that I have, if I may so, has been very hard-won and very
slow in coming. I understand that I write within the landscape of
contemporary American poetry. So, I am happy when someone outside of
the States finds my work and likes it. And I hope that more people
in Arab countries and Asian and African nations were English readers
and will pick up the work and find the connection to it. I
understand that I am an American artist as much as I'm a Palestinian
artist, or a woman of colour or an immigrant. That's the world I
live in now, and if I were to move to an Arab country, I'd hope that
I'd be able to reach those audiences.
What is your vision of a free Palestine?
My vision for a free
Palestine is my vision for the whole world - which is respect for
human life, which comes from respect for the land. I don't think you
can truly respect the land and not respect human life. And within
respecting human life, there is gender equality, religious
enrichment and understanding, and safety, whether physical or
emotional, and the right to education. And I wish this for the whole
world. Of course, the focus is often on Palestine and the western
media, because of the West's own investment and interest in keeping
Israel as the State as it exists now. But all the semantics and
language around the creation of the state of Israel really mean
nothing when you think of the reality of the facts on ground: the
bombings, the killings, the continuing build up of settlements,
theft of water as well as of land. So, I wish for every piece of the
planet to be respected that way. As for me, I'm connected to
Palestine, ancestrally and emotionally, but I feel like I can love
every part of the planet. I believe if you can respect one piece of
land, you can respect all the pieces, the trees, the birds, the
whole environment. And then, loving human beings who inhabit the
planet just becomes the logical and emotional next step. |