I wrote a poem for NASA--
[LAUGHTER, APPLAUSE]
--called "Quilting the Black-Eyed Pea--
We're Going to Mars."
"We're going to Mars for the same reason Marco Polo rocketed
to China, for the same reason Columbus trimmed
his sails on a dream of spices, for the very same reason
Shackleton was enchanted with penguins,
for the reason we fall in love; it's the only adventure.
We're going to Mars because Peary couldn't go to the North
Pole without Matthew Henson, because Chicago couldn't
be a city without Jean-Baptiste du Sable,
because George Washington Carver and his peanut
were the right partners for Booker
T. It's a life-seeking thing.
We're going to Mars because whatever is wrong
with us will not get right with us,
so we journey forth carrying the same baggage,
but every now and then leaving one little bitty thing behind--
maybe drop torturing hunchbacks here, maybe
drop lynching Billy Budd there, maybe not whipping
Uncle Tom to death, maybe resisting global war.
One day looking for prejudice to slip.
One day looking for hatred to tumble by the wayside.
One day maybe the whole community
will no longer be vested in who sleeps with whom.
Maybe one day the Jewish community will be content,
the Muslim community will be at peace,
the Jewish community will be at rest, and all the rest of us
will get great meals at holy days and learn new songs
and sing in harmony.
We're going to Mars because it gives us a reason to change.
If Mars came here, it would be ugly.
Nations would ban together to hunt down and kill Martians,
and being the stupid, undeserving lifeforms
that we are, we would also hunt down
and kill what would be termed Martian Sympathizers,
as if the Fugitive Slave law wasn't bad enough then,
as if the so-called war on terrorism isn't pitiful now.
When do we learn, and what does it take to teach us things
cannot be what we want, when we want, as we want.
Other people have ideas and inputs,
and why won't they leave Rap Brown alone?
The future is ours to take.
We're going to Mars because we have the hardware to do it.
We have the rockets and the fuel and the money and the stuff.
And the only reason NASA is holding back
is they don't know if what they send out
will be what they get back.
So let me slow this down.
Mars is one year of travel to get there
plus one year of living on Mars plus one
year to return to Earth equals three years of Earthlings
being in a tight space, going to an unknown place
with an unsure welcome awaiting them,
tired muscles, unknown and unusual foods,
harsh conditions, and no known landmarks to keep them human,
only a hope and a prayer that they will be shadowed
beneath a benign hand, and there was no historical precedent
for that except this.
The trip to Mars can only be understood
through Black Americans.
I say, the trip to Mars can only be understood
through Black Americans.
The people who were chained and enslaved
immediately recognize the men who chained and whipped them
and herded them into ships so tightly
packed there was no room to turn, no privacy to respect,
no tears to fall without landing on another.
Were not kind and gentle and concerned
for the state of their souls, no.
The men with whips and chains were
understood to be killers, feared to be cannibals,
known to be sexual predators.
The captured knew they were in trouble in an unknown place
without communicable abilities with a violent and capricious
species.
But they could look out and still see signs of home.
They could still smell the sweetness in the air.
They could see the clouds floating
above the land they loved, but they reached a point
where the captured could not only not look back.
They had no idea which way back might be.
There was nothing in the middle of the deep, blue water
to indicate which way home might be,
and it was that moment when a decision had to be made.
Do they continue forward with the resolve
to see this thing through, or do they embrace the waters
and find another world?
In the belly of the ship, a moan was heard,
and someone picked up that moan, and a song was raised.
And that song would offer comfort and hope
and tell the story.
When we go to Mars it's the same thing.
It's Middle Passage.
When the rocket red glares, the astronauts
will be able to see themselves pull away from Earth.
As the ship goes deeper, they will see a sparkle of blue,
and then one day, not only will they not see Earth.
They won't know which way to look,
and that's why NASA needs to call Black America.
They need to ask us, how did you calm your fears?
How were you able to decide you were human even when everything
said you were not?
How did you find the comfort in the face of the improbable
to make the world you came to your world?
How was your soul able to look back and wonder?
And we will tell them what to do.
To successfully go to Mars and back, you will need a song.
Take some Billie Holiday for the sad days
and some Charlie Parker for the happy ones,
but always keep at least one good spiritual for comfort.
You will need a slice or two of meatloaf,
and if you can manage it, some fried chicken in a shoe box
with a nice, moist lemon pound cake.
A bottle of beer because no one should go that
far without a beer and maybe a six pack so
that if there is life on Mars, you can share.
Popcorn for the celebration when you
land while you wait on your land legs to kick in.
And as you climb down the ladder from your spaceship
to the Martian surface, look to your left and there you'll
see a smiling community quilting a black-eyed pea,
watching you descend."