I come to Switzerland to understand black America? At breakfast this morning I inadvertently start a debate between AD, young articulate black poet in graduate school at Clemson and Michael, older passionate and equally articulate black New Yorker originally from the South in the expressive arts program. Only two black guys in Saas Fee as far as I can tell. AD is hard at work on project exploring Clemson’s racist past, built around old plantation, trying to get conversation going about race. Michael wants to expose America’s hidden racial narrative that endlessly reproduces itself, i.e. black student-athletes playing football on the same ground slaves picked cotton. He’s critical of AD’s project that limits itself to acknowledging and exposing past practices at Clemson while avoiding the persistent structural problems of racial dynamics in both north and south. They are equally poetic and fiery, agreeing on the fundamental issues but not on the means to address them. Michael’s frustration and AD’s naiveté. Michael’s expressive hands, use of metaphors and images. AD’s rap style and sincerity. As the conversation grows louder, students move away. I stay to the end, feeling responsible for the indigestion I’ve caused. They shake hands and lower their beautiful black baritones as I slip away. Another day of philosophic inquiry begins.
