Entertainment
Appreciation: Nikki Giovanni made me a poet. Listen, and she'll still make you one too
“You sound like a poet.”
When Nikki Giovanni uttered these words in January 2007 at the end of a two-hour interview, she shifted my life’s focus from covering the news to making art with it. Her matter-of-fact declaration offered me what she gave millions of readers, students and fellow artists for nearly 60 years: faith.
On that day, I followed Nikki’s careful instructions to type and collate the lines of poetry I’d scrawled in composition books and notepads for years and leave the rest to her. Less than three months later, I confronted my fear of my artistic shortcomings and chose faith in what I could accomplish outside that Atlanta newsroom, enrolling in the nascent MFA program at Virginia Tech, where Nikki — always, she insisted, just Nikki — was a distinguished creative writing professor for more than three decades.
I accepted admission three months later, on April 16, the day that Tech — and the world — was stunned by horrific violence committed by a student Nikki had banned from her class. While reporting about that student killing 32 Hokies and himself and wounding 17, I decided I would believe in her faith in my Southern-bred listening and wordcraft to make a career of writing poems informed by my journalism training, her take-no-prisoners honesty and boundless compassion my compass. Somehow, she knew I’d also gained the tools I needed by, like her, observing the women and the men in Baptist churches step out on faith to share their testimonies.
“The answer is always yes,” she’d intone when I’d call. “You can always change your mind later if it’s not working out.”
This infectious, uncompromising faith in humanity’s potential to choose good and embody the power of divined words made flesh, coupled with unapologetic self-possession and a generosity of spirit, heralds our Nikki as arguably America’s most accessible voice and certainly one of the most prophetic of this millennium. For Nikki, who died Monday at 81, our future depends upon our willingness to learn from everyday Black folks’ refusal to accept status-quo cruelties as incontrovertible realities. Time and again, her poems land on faith as the fuel to catapult us to a yonder she’s dreamed of exploring since her girlhood in Knoxville and Cincinnati.
Since I left the mad-dash newspaper assembly line, Nikki has remained my North Star. When a car accident threw my grad school budget into a tailspin, most friends shrugged, but without my asking, she saw to it that, within hours, I got a call from an administrator about a grant that would cover the repair cost. When my mother was stricken with cancer and I told Nikki that I’d need an academic leave, she offered an independent study on the Black Arts Movement she’s helped define and scheduled our meetings around Mama’s care. (She’d made sacrifices for family, too, and didn’t want me enduring any of the delays she had.)
After I graduated from Tech, earned a doctorate in literary, gender and sexuality studies at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill, and became a professor at Wake Forest University, hatemongers sent threatening emails to faculty of color. I wanted to leave the university, where her sister-friend Maya Angelou had taught for decades, but Nikki texted via her partner of nearly 40 years, Virginia “Ginney” Fowler, that I should reconsider: “Take your smile and your love to the folk who love you. Maya was your aunt and I am your godmother … let’s be strong on this one ❤️ .”
You may be wondering why so many from all walks of life are grieving so intensely this week. It’s that stories like mine are at once remarkable and ubiquitous. We’ve watched Nikki appoint, anoint and empower so many, always saying yes and wanting to know: Who should the world be reading, watching and listening to next? As we, her colleagues and literary children, gave her the early works of Terrance Hayes, Jericho Brown, Remica Bingham-Risher and others known primarily in academic circles at the time, she called them into her orbit, too, putting the everyday people she’s engaged for three generations on notice to look out for who’ll next storm the castle and put a mirror up to the naked emperor while shimmying and wisecracking as only the folk can. Look at what our grandmothers’ prayers have wrought, she beamed in anthologies she curated and massive group readings she coordinated to give writer-friends Angelou, Toni Morrison and E. Lynn Harris and actors Ruby Dee and Novella Nelson their flowers while they lived and to comfort those left behind when beloved poet Lucille Clifton departed too soon.
Nikki Giovanni, second from left, at the unveiling of the Maya Angelou stamp in 2015. With her are, from left, Howard University professor Eleanor Traylor, First Lady Michelle Obama, Postmaster General Megan Brennan, Oprah Winfrey and artist Ross Rossin.
(Jacquelyn Martin / Associated Press)
Wherever Nikki alights is a space to laugh, play the dozens (preferably over bid whist), celebrate and, yes mourn and sing with these and other giants. And she’s brought along as many of us who would trust her to lead the way she’s blazed unassumingly, Ginney at her side, their love a model for our beleaguered LGBTQIA youths, unashamed but fiercely protected until it was time for the world to know. “Going to Mars: The Nikki Giovanni Project,” which won an Emmy this year, leaves few relevant questions unanswered, so if you’re just taking note of the Nikki rocket ship, start there to fine-tune your own voices.
Nikki loved a good song, preferably jazz, with some Champagne and a meal seasoned with the lavender she grew in her garden. But let’s not forget: She was down with hip-hop when Kendrick Lamar Duckworth was a tot and others decried the music as earworm “gangsta rap” that would kill and destroy, not galvanize, the coming generation for whom he — like she — is a folk hero. “I’m a thug,” she’d tell anyone who would listen, showing off the “Thug Life” tattoo emblazoned on her left arm after Lamar’s predecessor, Tupac Shakur, was murdered in 1997, just as hip-hop began topping pop charts and commanding the zeitgeist. In one memorable moment in 2013 I’ve been replaying to hear her alto lilt and girlish chuckle, she tells tastemaker radio DJ Sway Calloway she’s happily at once “a little, old lady” and all that “I’m a thug” encompasses. For those who might become prodigal, choosing to go our own way, Nikki is always waiting with seats at her welcome table when we’re ready to embrace the good sense she and other elders and ancestors impart.
For, like poets Langston Hughes and Gwendolyn Brooks and another singular supernova, Prince, the latter two of whom shared her birthday, Nikki has always communed with like-minded iconoclasts and what she called “space freaks,” those who understand that our songs of rage, rapture, irreverence and yearning are our greatest, Blackest weapons. From her earliest collections “Black Feeling, Black Talk,” and “Black Judgement” in the late 1960s to her most recent ones, “A Good Cry” (2017) and “Make Me Rain,” published in 2020, that annus mirabilis of pestilence and prosperity, her refusal to surrender to despair kept her going — and current.
When we phoned for that 2007 interview, she was promoting “Acolytes,” which she’d written as first her mother, then her sister and aunt, lay dying within months of one another. Amid her own journey with illness, including the one that’s ended her physical journey on this side of forever, Nikki has found in grief and pain an exacting clarity to declaim that faith, like the unconditional love she gives to those who choose her back, only dies when we stop believing. Anticipating our grief, she leaves us this conversation on unconditional love’s liberating power with the New Yorker’s Doreen St. Felix and host Bianca Vivion and her biographical documentary as an example of how to live a freer life of constant evolution, its title drawn from a poem in “Acolytes,” “Quilting the Black Eyed Pea,” in which she presaged “we’re going to Mars” long before billionaires contemplated colonizing outer space.
Now it’s our turn to join Nikki’s song as her spirit, finally boundless and fully free, soars into the cosmos. Even as Octavia Butler’s dystopian vision in “Parable of the Sower” and “Parable of the Talent” unfolds, with the unhoused and most vulnerable criminalized and Earth’s hurricanes, earthquakes, and tsunamis giving us a hard look in the mirror of what we’ve done, we should not run from fear of what we’re forced to face. Nikki’s poem “Fear: Eat in or Take Out,” which she read during a 2017 TED Talk, teaches us “to distill fear,” rather than let any powers-that-be persuade us to mix our fear with the hate that empowers them to divide and conquer us all. We must, as Nikki told us in that TED Talk, “learn to distill fear,” rather than let any powers-that-be persuade us to mix our fear with the hate that empowers them to divide and conquer us all.
Defying the unconscionable indignities that loom, I’ve been clinging to Nikki’s voice, and it’s everywhere, y’all.
Search for her online and heed her call: Take your smile and your love to the folk who love you. You and you and you sound like a poet, too.
L. Lamar Wilson, the 2024-2025 Mohr Visiting Poet at Stanford University, is a professor of creative writing, literature and film studies at Florida State University. He is the author of “Sacrilegion” (Blair, 2013) and the associate producer of “The Changing Same” (PBS/POV Shorts, 2019), a collaboration with Rada Film Group, the director-producers of “Going to Mars: The Nikki Giovanni Project.”
In the opening scene of A Conflict of Love Interest, Scarlett (Hedy Nasser) walks out of a man’s apartment as he pleads for her number. Her sharp, dismissive response—“I know”—paired with an effortlessly cool adjustment of her sunglasses as she steps into a cab, sets the tone for her character. Scarlett is someone who is on a dating spree and avoids commitment, exuding the self-assured main character energy reminiscent of Lindsay Lohan in Just My Luck.
Wherever she goes, opportunities seem to follow, and emotions remain at a safe distance. The film promises a journey of self-discovery and emotional reflection but ultimately fails to immerse us in Scarlett’s transformation or make her someone we can root for.
Scarlett’s primary goal is to land a photographer’s role with Joan (Midori Nakamura), the mother of her boss Jenny (Rebecca Lee Lerman). To get there, she takes on the task of playing wingwoman to Jenny in her quest for love.
The 88-minute film unfolds like a soap opera—occasionally engaging but largely perplexing. While director Andrew Rasmussen deserves credit for crafting Scarlett as a flawed and sometimes frustrating protagonist, the narrative doesn’t allow these traits to add much depth. For instance, Scarlett quips about her fears: “Chipped nails, wrinkled clothes, and everything that stops you from looking perfect.” It’s an amusing moment, but it feels hollow, leaving her internal struggles underexplored.
The supporting characters—Jenny, Lisa (Deanna Ott), and Scarlett’s love interest Lucas Sharpe (Logan Schmucker)—are not fleshed out in ways that add much to the story.
While the film raises intriguing questions about personal growth and decision-making, these themes are quickly drowned in a shallow and predictable narrative. There are, however, moments of brilliance.
A confrontation between Jenny and Scarlett at Lucas’s apartment is the highlight, evoking the chaos of Friends when secrets come tumbling out. Similarly, the recurring ‘cacao ceremony’ and sound therapy scenes involving Lisa and Scarlett spark some genuine laughs. Yet, these moments are fleeting, overshadowed by a script riddled with cracks.
The climax, predictable and unremarkable, does little justice to the story or the audience’s investment. Even the seemingly poignant escapade to Coney Island with Lucas feels derivative, reminiscent of Begin Again but lacking the emotional resonance.
There is no real conflict to engage the viewer or a love story compelling enough to evoke warmth. The result is a forgettable film that falls short of its potential.
Ultimately, A Conflict of Love Interest might hold some appeal for those seeking a light, surface-level romantic drama. However, it offers neither the emotional depth nor the narrative intrigue needed to leave a lasting impression.—Narayani M
Movie Reviews
Author of books that inspired 'Reagan' movie reflects on wild disparity between critic, audience reviews
EXCLUSIVE – Author Paul Kengor said the “disparity” between the Rotten Tomatoes critics’ score and audience score for the movie “Reagan” was comparable to President Reagan’s landslide presidential win in 1980 as he recalled his books’ whirlwind ride to the theaters.
The year’s best reviewed films have been assembled, and the film, “Reagan,” has one of the biggest disparities in recent years — currently sitting at a 98% audience score on Rotten Tomatoes. That’s starkly different from the dismal critics’ score of 18%.
A writer for The Boston Globe called it an “interminable hagiography” and “a wretched 2½ -hour bore that’s uncurious about its subject.” A Washington Post critic called it “worthless” as a piece of history, while the Daily Beast called it the worst movie of the year.
Kengor said the disparity between the audience and critics’ reviews reminded him of the 1980 presidential election, which Reagan won in a landslide against Democratic incumbent President Jimmy Carter.
AUTHOR OF BOOKS THAT INSPIRED ‘REAGAN’ MOVIE SEES KEY COMPARISONS BETWEEN 2024 AND 1980
Dennis Quaid plays President Ronald Reagan in the 2024 biopic.
“Yeah, the disparity is really profound,” Kengor said of the reviews. “In fact, it reminds me of what happened in 1984 when Ronald Reagan won 49 out of 50 states, which is probably about 98% of the states. If you do the math on this, 49 of 50 states won about 60% of the vote, won the Electoral College 525 to 13. But you had these liberal critics who didn’t like him, and they were very much in the minority. And I tell my students today, I tell other people, when you meet some liberal professor who is slamming Ronald Reagan in the classroom, just say, ‘You know, professor, but how did the guy win 49 out of 50 states?’ Right? I mean, he was liked, he was always liked.”
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Kengor further argued that many of those critics didn’t have the right perspective because they were born after Reagan’s presidency.
“A lot of those 18% – now some are fair-minded critics who didn’t like this or that about the film artistically … But a lot of them, when you read the reviews, they’re clearly partisan. They’re clearly ideological. And it struck me that – I looked up some of the reviewers,” he said. “They were born after the Reagan years. And I think they just find it hard to imagine that there was a time in America when everybody liked the president. Even liberals who didn’t vote for him liked him. They liked him as a person.”
Quaid said that Reagan endured difficulties similar to current American struggles prior to becoming president. (ShowBiz Direct)
The journey of “Reagan” to theaters began when filmmaker Mark Joseph called Kengor one day from Rock River, Illinois, where Reagan saved 77 lives when he served as a lifeguard, saying he was interested in turning “God and Ronald Reagan” into a movie. Kengor was interested in the idea, but suggested his book “The Crusader: Ronald Reagan and the Fall of Communism,” would make a more compelling film.
But it wasn’t until 20 years later that it would finally hit theaters.
A key factor in finally getting the movie off the ground, Kengor explained, was securing Dennis Quaid as the lead.
“You know, we had three or four really big names promising at different points – and any of which would have been quite good,” he said. “And then at one point, Dennis Quaid was available, interested. Mark Joseph reached out to him. They took him to the Reagan Ranch in Santa Barbara. And there they put him in the cowboy hat and then the denim kind of jacket, Reagan Ranch jacket.”
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Kengor said a friend who had been previously critical of their movie process called him to say congratulations, and it was a “done deal.” That’s when Kengor said he realized how the industry worked. But the author said he was blown away by Quaid’s performance.
“I can’t imagine that any of them would have been better than Dennis Quaid,” he said. “I really just marvel at how he nailed Reagan – the voice, the face, even the passion, the enthusiasm. All along, the trickiest thing was going to be to get someone to play Reagan who didn’t look like he was doing a parody of Reagan.”
Many moviegoers agreed with Kengor’s assessment, according to the high audience score.
(Original Caption) Washington: President Reagan joins Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger (R), and others as they laugh at a remark made by Vice president George Bush, (L), prior to a Cabinet meeting 11/13. This is the first Cabinet meeting since President Reagan’s reelection. (Getty)
Kengor said he couldn’t wrap his head around how many liberals call for “unity,” yet when a movie comes along that does just that, they don’t want it.
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“So we give them this really positive movie about unity, which is what they claim they want,” he said.
“And they hate it, they hate it. They call it a hagiography, a movie about a saint. Well, it has a happy ending. We won the Cold War. We didn’t have nuclear war,” he said. “So a lot of the critics in those very low Rotten Tomatoes reviews, they just seem incredulous at the very idea that there was a time in America like this.”
Fox News Digital’s Hannah Lambert contributed to this report.
Entertainment
Column: What the sexual assault charges against Sean Combs, the Alexander brothers and others reveal
When I first heard the phrase “rape culture” years ago, it sounded so dystopian that I wanted to believe it was an exaggeration.
But then came shocking revelations from all corners: the Catholic Church sex scandal, the Boy Scout sex scandal, the Fox News sex scandals, the Bill Cosby sex scandal and the numerous revelations of the #MeToo movement.
Any doubt about the existence of rape culture simply crumples under the weight of reality.
“I don’t always use that term because it is too vague,” said Wayne State University social psychologist Antonia Abbey, whose research focuses on male sexual violence and aggression against women. “I will use ‘patriarchy’ or ‘misogyny,’ the idea that throughout history, men have had power over women and children.”
Because of #MeToo, and all the firings, resignations, civil lawsuits and criminal charges the movement produced, it really did seem possible for a moment that we were on the verge of a true cultural shift. Maybe men of power and privilege would finally understand that women are not objects to be used for their subjugation and pleasure and would, you know, keep their hands off.
If a recent series of bombshell criminal charges against rich, powerful, famous men prove true, this view was far too optimistic.
Last week, a federal indictment charged three brothers associated with the high-flying world of luxury Manhattan and Miami real estate with drugging and raping dozens of women. If even half of what’s in the indictment is accurate, it would make it painfully clear that a subset of privileged, narcissistic men still believe women exist for their domination and gratification. And perhaps nothing will ever change that.
The Alexander brothers — twins Alon and Oren and their brother, Tal — are accused of a veritable crime wave. For more than a decade, according to Manhattan U.S. Atty. Damian Williams, the brothers “alone and together” repeatedly and violently sexually assaulted and raped women after drugging them with cocaine, mushrooms, GHB and other substances. Lawyers for the brothers have said they are innocent of the charges.
Alon Alexander, top, and his twin brother, Oren, bottom, in court in Miami.
(Matias J. Ocner / Associated Press)
“Our investigation is far from over,” Williams said in a statement announcing the sex trafficking indictment. He urged any other victims to come forward.
The recent accusations against music entrepreneur Sean “Diddy” Combs are also mind-boggling. Williams announced in September that a federal grand jury had returned a three-count indictment of Combs alleging crimes so heinous that a judge has refused three requests to free him on bail. He remains in a jail cell at the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn awaiting trial.
The indictment accuses Combs of running a criminal enterprise for the last 15 years in which many women, and some men, were systematically drugged, sexually assaulted, punched, kicked and threatened. A lawsuit filed last week accused another music titan, Jay-Z, of drugging and raping a 13-year-old girl at a 2000 MTV Video Music Awards after-party in Combs’ presence. Jay-Z has vigorously denied the charges, and a lawyer for Combs has said he has “never sexually assaulted anyone.”
Sean Combs at a gala before the 2020 Grammy Awards in Beverly Hills.
(Mark Von Holden / Invision / Associated Press)
From 2008 through this year, the grand jury alleged, Combs and his staff organized a number of what they called “freak-offs” in which sex workers were hired to have sex with victims who were often drugged to make them compliant. Combs videotaped the encounters and used the tapes as collateral “to ensure the continued obedience and silence of the victims,” according to the indictment.
American celebrities aren’t the only recent subjects of such charges. There’s also the grotesque case of Dominique Pelicot, the Frenchman who admitted drugging his wife, Gisele, and allowing dozens of men to rape her in their home. President-elect Donald Trump has been found liable for sexual assault, and several members of his inner circle have also been implicated in allegations of sexual misconduct, some of which have been vehemently disputed.
Rape culture, Abbey said, “doesn’t disappear in a generation or two, just like racist beliefs don’t disappear.” It wasn’t even very long ago, she noted, that the last states to eliminate a marital exception for rape did so. (Oklahoma and North Carolina finally outlawed marital rape in 1993, though loopholes still exist.)
One of Abbey’s recent studies, published in the journal Psychology of Violence, found that up to 30% of men admit using coercive techniques against women who clearly did not want to have sex. “That’s part of this idea of rape culture,” she told me, “just the fact that the line between seduction and coercion is blurry, and people think, ‘If I can get away with it, it’s OK.’ If we didn’t have a society that condoned it, it would be rarer.”
It’s easy to see how a victim could be ensnared by a more powerful perpetrator under such circumstances.
“Someone famous and powerful pays attention to you — what a boost for your ego,” said Abbey, while emphasizing that she does not blame sexual assault victims. “A record deal! Come live at my place! For many, it seems like a dream come true, a ticket to the top.”
What exactly is it going to take to end rape culture? At this dark moment, I am at a loss.
Bluesky: @rabcarian.bsky.social. Threads: @rabcarian
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