Now in its 18th year, the Austin African American Book Festival has been a paragon of the eloquence of Black culture.
From arts-focused programming to captivating conversations with some of the most prestigious authors in the world and intentional educational work for youths in the city, the AAABF stands as an example of the power of Black literature. It’s an act of revolution, reading, one that dates back to a time when even learning to read was an oftentimes fatal infraction for Black folks. Embracing literature, falling into worlds beyond our wildest dreams is also an act of freedom. In the month that denotes the death of pre-Reconstruction-era slavery, festivals like this are more than a good time (which is absolutely true, of course). The AAABF is a celebration of the freedom of our collective minds. Though fitting, it’s a marvel and an act of grace that the event is totally free to attend.
Black Feeling, Black Talk
Both the theme and the overall energy of Saturday’s iteration of this storied event made it a day to reawaken oftentimes dormant stirrings of revolution. Those who were able to make the main festivities were able to reconcile with their understanding of what it means to be both artist and activist. It’s fitting, then, that one of the major spotlights of this year’s AAABF came in the form of Nikki Giovanni. The poet-activist blesses any space she inhibits. She speaks from a well of experience as deep as her heart for change. In that vein, she spoke to the very nature of the year’s theme: Black folk talking about Black feeling. In a now famous conversation with the late wordsmith and activist James Baldwin, she discusses love in the context of how a man comes home to his wife and children. She notably says, “Because I love you, I get least of you.” As with engaging in the written word, love is an act of revolution, namely because “it’s like trouble. You don’t fall in love,” Giovanni says, “you learn to love. And you learn the patience of love. That’s what Jimmy,” she calls Baldwin with a sister’s affection, “and I were talking about. ‘What is love?'”
As she goes through the intricacies of the renowned conversation, Giovanni mentions another literary great (of stage), August Wilson and his play Fences. It’s the notion that someone (in this case lead protagonist Troy Maxson) seeks their “fun,” their fantasy elsewhere because everything in their life is such a struggle to maintain. Meanwhile, his wife, Rose, maintains the home, maintains her “wifely duties.” She asks him, “You think this is fun?” “I love that line,” Giovanni says with a smile. “You think it’s fun being a wife or a mistress? You think it’s fun being a mother? I don’t. All of this is hard work, and the work we put into it needs to be appreciated.” Love is hard work, is trouble, is revolution. The same passion, blood, pain, and sacrifice put into being a wife, being a mother, being a mistress, a man who’s underpaid and undervalued, it’s the same back break and heartache that comes with acts of revolution, of activism.
Giovanni’s presence and her dedication to literature brings up another topic of note: the seeming shift toward illiteracy. One would be forgiven if they were to believe that there’s been an uptick in attempts to silence the masses by keeping them ignorant to the world around them. It’s a trend most notable in the ways in which certain literary works are being banned and educators and students punished for their literary curiosity. However, Giovanni sees the nuance in the ways in which people are engaging with literature. “What do you think rap is?” she states matter-of-factly. She reiterates the historical significance of our people when first brought over into chattel slavery. “We were not allowed to learn to read or write, so what we learned to do was sing,” she says. “As the songs evolved from spirituals to gospel to blues, we also got books and what’s called freedom. But people forget that it wasn’t Blacks who were enslaved; it was actually white people because they had to learn to hate us, and they had to learn to be afraid of us. We didn’t have to learn to love ourselves or learn that we’re lovely. In fact, Black women didn’t have any way to look at themselves other than through the eyes of the men who loved them.”
Love as reflection. Love as affirmation. Love as revolution.
AAABF Is for the Kids
In addition to its remarkable main event, this year, the festival hosted a robust youth program that incorporates all artistic aspects of the African diaspora – dance, communal storytelling, history lessons, group art sessions, etc. With an incredible lineup of authors, artists, and community leaders, this year’s youth programming is the essence of equipping future generations with the tools to fully express themselves, speak for themselves, and be the harbingers of profound change the world needs.
“Events like our festival are really about planting seeds for the future,” Roz Oliphant-Jones, founder and organizer of AAABF, says. “When young people engage with poetry and literature, it’s not just about learning to read or write. It’s about discovering their own voices and understanding the world around them through stories. By focusing on youth engagement, we’re giving them a platform to explore their creativity, express themselves, and connect with diverse perspectives that can shape their understanding and empathy.
“It’s also about celebrating our cultural heritage and ensuring that younger generations see themselves reflected in the books they read and the stories they hear. When they connect with authors and poets who look like them and share their experiences, it validates their identities and encourages pride in their heritage.”
Historical and cultural preservation has always been the main goal of storytelling. From our earliest days sitting around fires to tell tales of champions and gods, spread proverbs and regale audiences with stories of heroes, big and small, literature has always been a connective thread, a means to build community. In this way, art is intrinsically linked to literature. With the youth programming, Oliphant-Jones attests to art’s cumulative influence. “When you think about it, these workshops complement literature by providing alternative ways to express emotions and narratives. They foster creativity and promote cultural enrichment. Ultimately, we want the Kids Edition of the festival to inspire and unite our audience through memorable, multidimensional experiences.”
Ranging from dance workshops led by Ballet Afrique founder and creative director China Smith, art sessions with award-winning illustrator Don Tate, and readings from authors Patrick Oliver and Terry P. Mitchell, the Kids Edition of AAABF opened wide spaces for children to fully engage with, not only literature, but the creative zeal they might not always have the ability to express. “By expressing the emotions and themes of a poem through dance, participants can gain a deeper understanding and appreciation. This active involvement makes the experience more memorable and impactful,” Oliphant-Jones says of the inclusion of a dance workshop.
This desire to allow young attendees a varied range of creative expression naturally folds over into interactive ways to engage with history. Of publisher and author Wade Hudson’s participation in this year’s festival, Oliphant-Jones says he “is dedicated to empowering young people by encouraging them to know and value Black history. His teaching style beautifully blends learning with history and creativity, aiming to cultivate a new generation of readers, writers, and activists who possess a strong sense of pride and purpose.
“Terry’s book The City We Built: Black Leaders of Austin is crucial for preserving the history of African American Austinites,” she says of Mitchell’s reading of her first children’s book. “For young attendees, discovering these past leaders is vital because understanding this history helps youth appreciate past struggles and achievements. It also reminds them that today’s opportunities stem from trailblazers who challenged the status quo and inspiring them to aim high and contribute positively to their communities.”
That’s what it all ultimately comes down to: challenging the status quo. It’s about engaging that kernel of curiosity and ambition in our future leaders, poets, activists. Oliphant-Jones has ignited and kept aflame a love of literature, but perhaps more pertinently, a path toward true freedom.
This article appears in June 28 • 2024.