Giovanni's Words in Clouds, Part II

I posted an image on Instagram of the work that "Podcast for Bicycles" inspired and tagged Nikki Giovanni in it. I recall searching for her website, an email address, to which I could send it more directly. I cannot remember if these intentions materialized outside of my thoughts; a post-COVID memory, plus exhaustion, and always, always having something going on has meant some details fall away rather than stick. But the minutiae that matter -- the guitar lick I can't wait to add to a song, the words a character in my novel demands I write down,  where I placed the bag of materials for my next collage -- become implanted deeply and as pristinely as the lyrics to any song by the Eurythmics, Thompson Twins, INXS, or Duran Duran that I grew up singing along to as a child, on repeat. 

The reasons Giovanni's words live as clouds in our living room hutch, and the luminous connection between her and an author I know personally, are equally seared.

Soma Mei-Sheng Frazier introduced me to The Entropy of Bones: a novel, and riveting read, by Ayize Jama-Everett. The second in Jama-Everett's series about "liminal people" centers Chabi -- a young female protagonist unlike any I'd encountered in literature before, and I am undeniably well-read. The book was  assigned reading as required reading for the undergraduate Creative Writing class that I was teaching a decade ago, when I lived in California.

Soma, Chair of the English Department, recruited me for the position. And because Cogswell College is located in the Bay Area, and I was living in Southern California, I would teach the courses online.

Witnessing the growth of young writers as they demolished inhibitions, waded into the deep waters of creative experimentation, and fabulously blossomed in the craft of storytelling was nothing short of glorious. And although I do not remember the names of most students from that period [it was about 10 years ago and I have had many students and industry colleagues (in media) since]. A story called "From Space to Home Base," for example, sings in my memory,  bringing giggles. I compiled my students' stories into a collection to commemorate their diligence and the special time we shared fueling our collective imagination and soul. I hope they still have the PDF version of their work, and wonder how these creatives made out in life. 

Soma was an amazing boss: present but not overbearing, supportive, resourceful, and patient as I navigated the pitfalls of delivering knowledge to eager learners in a fully online setting. In the absence of facial expressions, inky symbols on a pixelated screen often misconstrued my intended tone in this pre-COVID era. Soma, though, was not just a Department Chair. She is a writer in love with language and story.

Her first novel with a major publisher, Off the Books, was published in 2024. 

Soma and I -- in unrelated moves -- departed California for the East Coast. She landed in New York State and I relocated to Boston. When I learned of her book's release, I tried contacting her with hopes that she would, first, remember me, and second, feel inclined to autograph a copy of Off the Books. As the holidays approached, my partner, Dani, indicated that she would like to do the task of seeking out Soma to get the book signed. On Christmas morning, I opened the package containing the book, fearing that it either was not signed or that it was autographed impersonally. My fears were unfounded. It turned out that her brain had recorded a relic of my being, that something of my existence had registered as significant.

In the way that life can create uncanny linkages, Soma, Nikki Giovanni, and I formed an unexpected chain.

I knew nothing of Soma's love of poetry or Giovanni's work; I do not recall sharing with her that I was reared alongside the yellowing pages of Giovanni's books.  I cannot think of a time that Soma and I discussed poetry at all. But we -- she and I, plus Giovanni -- were somehow connected: three women of letters (and color) at various stages of success and renown.

​Giovanni was fond of Soma's writing and gave it dream-worthy praise:

Brilliant is a word usually associated with diamonds therefore this is the appropriate word for Soma Mei Sheng Frazier who writes like a young Toni Morrison … 
​  
                                                     —Nikki Giovanni

My admiration of Soma, and all women artists who create despite the demands of motherhood, family, and a demanding work life, ripples and inspires. 

I am not sure if my stepson, a 10-year-old white boy, will remember the spectacular feeling that hung in the air on Christmas morning in 2024.  I explained the connection between Off the Books and Soma, Nikki Giovanni and me, and Soma and Giovanni with fingers crossed that his Piscean brain was recording even a wisp of the magic and meaning. Did he understand why these women mattered to me? How their creations helped form and even me? That through soul-driven creations we all are connected? And that Giovanni's spirit lives on despite her body's passing? 

The essence of his Uncle Mike and Papa  -- Nico and his beloved Nana, Gertie, his lifelong feline guardian -- flickers in light year, like stars, he must know.  
​
I have not had the chance to read Off the Books yet. I am teaching again, as an Associate Lecturer, while awaiting final edits on the nonfiction tome I have been working since 2020 for ABRAMS Press: COURT QUEENS: A History of the WNBA & the Power of Persevering Women. Why a book originally intended for a 2022 release is still working its way through the publisher's clogged bowels is a story of injury that will be told.