So I live in one of those small genteel New England towns
that for white, heteronormative faculty is the perfect place
to live and raise children.
It's safe, friendly, et cetera.
But a place that for any non-normative being,
especially a person of color with an iota
of racial consciousness, feels like a mix between Shirley
Jackson's short story "The Lottery" and the movie Get Out.
Needless to say, when I arrived in 2006,
almost no one in that college's genteel English department
had any idea of or interest in minority
poetry or experimental minority poetry.
Imagine my surprise when one day in 2012, I
learned that Roberto Tejada was going
to be visiting my school for a year as the joint fellow
of the Humanities Center and the Clark Art Institute in town.
I had long been an admirer of his poetry and had, in fact,
taught all three of his books in my courses.
When I finally met Roberto, my admiration for him
as a poet was only deepened by my respect for him as a person,
as a scholar, and most of all, as a friend.
One of the few precious gifts and compensations
of my still-difficult time at a very white and white
supremacist institution of higher learning
has been my having had the opportunity to meet him.
Since our first encounter, we have
had many, many conversations about politics and aesthetics,
race and poetry at various places--
Boulder, Colorado, Williamstown, most recently,
Houston, where since 2014, he has
held the Hugh Roy and Lillie Cranz Cullen
distinguished professorship of English and creative writing
at the University of Houston.
He is the author of two chapbooks
and three books of poetry and has recently
completed a new poetry manuscript whose publication I
eagerly await.
Roberto is a rare combination of talents--
scholar, poet, art historian, literary critic, translator,
editor, teacher.
Tonight, all of you will get a taste of his insightfullness
and humanity.
Please join me in welcoming Roberto Tejada.
[MUSIC PLAYING]