Street Lit Vol 7 Issue 2 Words Beats & Life Journal

Page 26

THE SOULS OF DISPLACED FOLK:

OAKLAND NOVELIST ROGER PORTER REFLECTS ON HIS CITY’S SOUL by Roger Porter

The Souls of Hood Folk was published

my neighborhood as somewhere where

writer from the San Francisco Chronicle.

humanize my hood. Just like W.E.B. Dubois

five years after I had a conversation with a This conversation took place while I was

an undergraduate at UC Berkeley. The reporter was doing research on an article

that he was going to write concerning

racism on campus and had reached out to me to have a sit down and discuss that

particular topic. I spoke to him about how difficult of an adjustment it was to come

from a culturally rich, predominantly black community, only to be tokenized as one of

the few blacks majoring in English at Cal. He

asked me where I grew up. I told him Deep

East Oakland, not far from Eastmont Mall. He looked at me quizzically and said “Really. That’s where we go to cover murders.” His

response

wasn’t

altogether

shocking to me because I knew my part of

town was known as the killing fields. The Oakland Tribune (now defunct) used that moniker often when speaking of the area

roughly between 73rd Avenue and the San

Leandro border, but when that grizzled 40 something year old white journalist made

that statement I took it as a challenge. In my head, I was like “Fam you are not

going to oversimplify and ultimate dismiss

people get shot—the end.” I needed to

had humanized African-Americans when he

wrote The Souls of Black Folk in 1903. The Souls of Hood Folk was published one year

after I received my MFA from Mills College in 2010.

I was yearning to make the people that

I had gone to school with, played football with, fallen in love with, and had fist fights with, fully realized and three dimensional

in the eyes of my readers. It was important to me to be able to immortalize Deep East

Oakland in literature just like Zora Neale

Hurston had put it down for Eatonville, Florida and like Richard Wright had done

for the Southside of Chicago. I was 28 years old. I was trying to completely change the

game and bring hella grimy ghetto content to my work, but at the same time I wanted to polish it up a little bit and make it palatable for my more educated readers.

That’s why when I wrote the short story

Language Barrier about a teenaged sniper, I decided to filter his thoughts through a third

person omniscient narrator who is highly

skilled at translating the killer’s actions into the language of the civilian. The narrator 67


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