This interview was first conducted with Haki R. Madhubuti in his home on May 16, 2017, and revised in March 2019. As one of the architects of the Black Arts Movement (BAM), Professor Madhubuti has, for several decades, distinguished himself through letters, publishing, teaching, and developing independent Black institutions in Chicago. This extensive interview locates and centralizes Madhubuti’s national and international influence among generations of artists, scholars, and activists. The title of this interview is adapted from In the Mecca (1968), Gwendolyn Brooks’s last publication with Harper & Row publishers. In the final line of her first poem about a young Don L. Lee (Haki R. Madhubuti), Miss Brooks describes him as wanting “a new music screaming in the sun.”
LK: Before we talk about Chicago BAM and your role, contributions, etc., describe who you were and what you were doing artistically during 1965–66.
HM: I was still Don L. Lee, and during 1965–66 I was volunteering at the DuSable Museum of African American History. I had gone there for the first time in 1962. I was working with Margaret Burroughs, who was one of the founders of the museum, along with her husband, Charlie Burroughs. Another cofounder was a man named Eugene Feldman. I worked [volunteered] there as an assistant curator, which meant that I did everything from mop floors to sweep to help out with exhibits; whatever was asked of me. I was also a student at Wilson Junior College [now Kennedy-King College]. And I was always writing poetry. In 1966 I published my first book, Think Black. I was getting involved with the whole arts movement, which had not yet become BAM. It kicked off, as you know, following the assassination of Malcolm X in February 1965. I was still pretty much in the developmental stages of learning several things: how to write poetry, how to become a writer period, and how to really pay close attention to the development of independent Black institutions.
The DuSable Museum was the first Black museum in the country. It was first known as the Ebony Museum of Negro History and Art. But John H. Johnson did not agree with the museum being named “Ebony.” Eventually, he either took them to court or threatened to take them to court to get the name changed. Prior to connecting with the DuSable Museum, I had been in the military and was stationed at Fort Sheridan, Illinois. I was in the service and felt like I was going crazy in that very restricted environment where no one read anything other than local newspapers or magazines. But I was steadily reading anything Black I could get my hands on, and visiting used bookstores all over Chicago.
So by 1962, you’re back in Chicago and you enter the art scene here?
Right. In 1962, I came to the Ebony Museum and worked there for the next few years. It’s now 1965, and Malcolm has just been assassinated. The whole temperature in the country changed. Primarily among Black artists, and men and women who were involved in struggle. But BAM [as we understand it] had not kicked off yet. You had local Chicago artists doing their own stuff on various city corners. There was not any serious, coordinated move toward organizing artists. Artists are the most difficult people to organize because of the individuality of their work, and also because of the solitude in which they often work. Typically, artists are not accustomed to working with other artists, or other people period. Of course, I include myself in that. I never saw a lot of artists around Margaret Burroughs, even though she was deeply involved with artists in the city. She was always involved in trying to be a catalyst for the development of serious Black Art. My role at that time was to study and to write. As I mentioned earlier, I was in college. I was really just trying to be a sponge around these great men and women who were actually doing work that was not being done anyplace else in the country. Looking back, I recognize how fortunate I was. I had this great eagerness to learn about our people’s history and our culture. What had brought me to that point was reading, listening, being involved with Black musicians in the city, and reading poetry at different venues in Chicago. For me, Malcolm X had become a kind of mentor in that I really learned from him by listening to his many speeches and interviews. As I continued to mature [as an artist] while working at the museum, I was able to see how Margaret and Charlie Burroughs functioned as a couple, and also as builders of that very important Black institution. At that point, they had no real money coming in, and the museum was in their home at 3806 S. Michigan Ave. That’s where the museum started and stayed for many years until it moved. For me, going back and forth between the museum and the South Side Community Arts Center (cofounded by Margaret Burroughs) and sitting in on discussions of art and politics was instrumental in my development. So between 1965 and 66, that’s what I was doing. We must always remember that artists are the freest people in the world, if they are truly artists. Artists question everything, including their own art. And most certainly, the politics, culture, and history of their nation.
To read the rest of Lasana D. Kazembe’s interview with Haki R. Madhubuti, purchase a copy of CR 62.4/63.1/2.