Answering "The Waste Land": Robert Hayden and the Rise of the African American Poetic Sequence

Abstract

April of 1966 was one of most eventful and paradoxical months in history of twentieth-century American poetry. At Third World Festival of Arts in Dakar, Senegal, Robert Hayden's A Ballad of Remembrance was awarded the Grand as the best recent volume of Anglophone poetry (qtd. by Pool 43). In at least some international literary circles, prestige of this award roughly matched its Olympic title. The first such event to be held on independent African soil, Festival was sponsored by Leopold Sedar Senghor in conjunction with UNESCO and Societe Africaine de Culture and was attended by over 10,000 from thirty-seven nations (Vaillant 323).(1) The other finalists in poetry competition were Derek Walcott's In Green Night and Christopher Okigbo's Limits. Langston Hughes was one of judges. Also in attendance were Aime Cesaire, Leon Damas, Alioune Diop, Yevgeny Yevtoshenko, and Duke Ellington. Andre Malraux, then French Minister of Culture, seems to have captured prevailing spirit he praised Festival as indication that Senghor's cultural program was about to shape the destiny of continent (qtd. by Vaillant 323). For Hayden, though, Grand Prix was wildly unexpected. He had not yet published book with commercial or university press in United States, and he was still teaching fifteen hours each semester as associate professor in English department at Fisk University. Even Grand Prix itself, it first arrived, seemed to do him as much harm as good.(2) In fact, within few days, while his poetry was being praised in Senegal as centerpiece of international negritude, back home in Nashville Hayden was being attacked as scapegoat of choice for new generation of African American poets.(3) At Fisk's First Writers' Conference, group of writers and students, led by Melvin Tolson, assailed Hayden as stooge of exploitive capitalists and, in all, traitor to his race. For most part, Tolson and his supporters endorsed Black Cultural of Ron Karenga, with its declarations that all art must reflect and support Revolution and that any art that does not discuss and contribute to revolution is invalid (33). Hayden's crime was that he refused to be labeled From beginning of conference, and much to dismay of most of his audience, he insisted that he should be considered, instead, a poet who happens to be Negro (Llorens 60).(4) When he reiterated his position at panel discussion - which also included Tolson, Ama Bontemps, and Margaret Walker - advocates of Cultural Nationalism reacted as though they had come face to face with Enemy. Tolson's response was perhaps most characteristic. Among other things, he declared that, when man writes, he tells me which way he went in society. black he continued, an African-American poet, poet. I'm no accident - and I don't give tinker's damn what you think (qtd. in Llorens 62-63).(5) One member of audience even accused Hayden of contributing to delusion of young black people studying at Fisk (64). In following months, students on Fisk campus - almost of whom, as Hayden was well aware, were from backgrounds more privileged than his own - continued to refer to him as Uncle Tom or Oreo, believing that he should use prestige granted by Grand Prix to authorize and advance their political positions (Hatcher 38). I begin with these events for three reasons. First of all, it is in these few days that studies of Hayden almost inevitably find their critical center - and, unfortunately, Hayden's defining moment.(6) From conventionally biographical perspective, this focus might seem reasonable. In years immediately following Third World Festival of Arts, Hayden was granted brief flurry of academic and otherwise official interest. …