Photo by Tom Jenz
Ajamou Butler
Ajamou Butler
Milwaukee’s Ajamou Butler is a poet, Black activist and director of motivational workshops for young people, mainly those of color. An educator and spoken word artist, he has performed at venues across the country. Not long ago, I attended his new book of poetry launch inside a mall store on the north side. The book’s title is a non-title: I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO CALL THIS BOOK.
The room was crowded with his fans, mostly Black, and Butler greeted them with hugs and harmony, and signed each book with a personal message. Then, he roamed the room, meeting and greeting, posing for pictures, his baritone dominating conversations.
When the patrons settled into their chairs, he moved to the head of the large room and said, “Ten years ago, when I first stepped on a stage to read my poetry, I did not know I was injecting a drug, starting a habit I’d never want to break.” That habit, I came to find out, was performance, the spoken word. “I began writing poetry that spoke to social justice issues, poetry that spoke to the brokenhearted, and poetry made to uplift and heal.”
Then, he recited a poem, or rather acted a poem. It was about being Black. He was as much a preacher as a poet. His words seemed important, but his presentation gained the crowd. As his performance took on drama, he grew more contagious almost like a rap singer elevates charisma. I was taken by the rhythms of his cadence. His words rolled like cannonballs around the room. He knew his audience, who seemed to feel his message, and they responded audibly. Sometimes, he waved the words at his fans, and they waved back with emotional expressions.
When I later read his new book, I encountered free verse with interconnected and disconnected thoughts on God and the Black man.
Here is an excerpt from his poem What Time Is It?
When will I be able to feel?
When will I be able to quiet all the rapid running thoughts in my brain
When will I learn how to grow from my pain?
When will freedom ring?When will niggas grow from niggas to kings?
When will Black lives matter?
In other words, the poet Ajamou Butler was a single Black human who represented all Black humans. At least, the way I interpreted his poetry.
Later on, we went outside. A videographer followed us and recorded our movements. Butler handed out a few more fan hugs, and then we talked.
Ajamou, you travel all around Wisconsin, inspiring young people with your workshops.
Even around the world, most recently in Durban, South Africa, working with 10th and 11th grade students as part of an entrepreneurship program. I also worked with children at a multi-arts center. Last year, I went to Panama. That experience taught me about submission and surrendering. Since then, I’m learning to speak Spanish. In Wisconsin, I speak with youth groups in various settings, Door County, Green Bay, UW Platteville. I’m dedicated to working with children of color to build their esteem.
When you do the workshops, what are you telling young people? What is your message?
My main focus is the social emotional development workshop, healing from past traumas, giving tips to help decision-making. I do team building because there are kids of color who have never had healthy relationships. They have held in more tears than they’ve been able to let out. They have done more talking with their hands than with their words. We try to help them uncover that pain, dirt, and trauma. For those of us in the hood, we don’t see enough of people loving on themselves or loving on each other. A lot of these kids have family, community and social issues, and that leads to a lack of hope. I try to show them how to push through these doubts and embrace loving themselves.
Black young people face difficult hurdles growing up in the inner-city culture, especially the boys.
Yes, they do. I try to get my young Black brothers to see outside of their current struggles. That takes dedication and imagination. Many have difficult home lives, lack of fathers, bad street influences. What is the root of all their issues? It’s emotional trauma, not being able to express that pain, that hurt they endure. Some of these young men act out, get into trouble because of the street culture—gangs, crime, robbery. They might tell themselves they’re gonna sell drugs or steal cars instead of working in a business. They cannot even do their homework because of bad personal decisions. I cannot tell a kid he could be an entrepreneur or run a non-profit because he can’t identify with that idea.
Before the buzz phrase “systemic racism” hit the national conversation, you once said, “Systematic racism is the most serious issue facing the central city. The problem is way beyond what I do with my workshops, but still I am compelled to try to change the Hood culture.”
It’s no surprise what systematic racism has done to communities of color throughout the world and especially in Milwaukee, one of the ugliest places as to the segregated physical boundaries and the incarceration rate of Blacks. You can literally drive north, south, east or west, and when you get to a certain street and cross that boundary, you are in a totally different neighborhood territory. For Black people, systematic racism is the number one problem, and self-hatred is number two. There’s no people that hate themselves as we do because of the experiences Black women and men have endured throughout our history, all due to racism and white supremacy.
Let’s talk about your new book of poetry. It’s called I Don’t Know What To Call This Book. Clever title.
I don’t want my poetry to be judged on the book title. I want readers to get to the meat of the book by opening up the cover. The subject matter is about my experience as a Black man in love and dealing with that emotional roller coaster. It’s about my experience as a father, a social justice advocate and as a leader in the community. It’s about God, and me as a man of God, which gives me breath of life and motivates me. Spiritual influence is heavy in the work that I do.
Ajamou Butler was the recipient of the Wisconsin Leadership Community Choice Award for Social Justice Leader of the Year in 2019. He is noted for his annual Heal the Hood event that attracts hundreds of Black citizens from the inner city. He is also known as “Brother Heal the Hood.” He has an 11-year old son.
