Stories of the Underground Railroad with Vida Cross

Vida Cross is a Visiting Fulbright Research Chair who has come to the University of Windsor at the invitation of Leddy Library and the Black Scholars Institute. She has been conducting intensive research towards a creative writing project, focusing on Underground Railroad journeys to the Detroit River Borderlands and especially to Canadian communities in the region. Vida is a blues poet, a two-time Pushcart nominee, a Carl Sandburg Literary Award honoree and a Cave Canem Fellow. Vida’s work references her ancestry as a third generation Chigagoan as well as the work of Archibald J. Motley Jr. and Langston Hughes. Vida’s work has appeared in multiple journals and anthologies such as The Creativity and Constraint Anthology for Wising Up Press, A Civil Rights Retrospective with the Black Earth Institute, Tabula Poetica with Chapman University, Transitions Magazine at the Hutchinson Institute, the Cave Canem Anthology XII, The Literary Review with Fairleigh Dickinson University, Reed Magazine at Reed College, and The Journal of Film and Video from The University of Illinois at Chicago. Her poetry collection Bronzeville at Night: 1949 was published by Avst Press in 2017. Vida Cross holds an MFA in Writing and an MFA in Filmmaking from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, an MA in English from Iowa State University and a BA from Knox College. She is a faculty member at Milwaukee Area Technical College and Chairperson of the Wisconsin Poet Laureate Commission. 

 https://vidacross.com/bio

 The Virtual Black History Presentation Vida recorded for the museum can be found here: https://youtu.be/BlMchbCSPYA?si=0_ca3rOOnfPt-6uy

Transcript

Welcome to All Write in Sin City, a podcast about writers and writing in the Windsor-Detroit region. Our podcasters today are:

Irene Moore Davis, author, educator and local historian
Sarah Jarvis, former bookseller, publishing rep, and literary festival chair
and me, Kim Conklin, Windsor-based writer and filmmaker.

Vida Cross is a Visiting Fulbright Research Chair who has come to the University of Windsor at the invitation of Lettie Library and the Black Scholars Institute. She has been conducting intensive research towards a creative writing project, focusing on underground railroad journeys to the Detroit River borderlands and especially Canadian communities in the region. Vida is a blues poet, a two-time Pushcart nominee, a Carl Sandburg Literary Award honoree, and a Cave Canem Fellow. 

Vida's work references her ancestry as a third-generation Chicagoan, as well as the work of Archibald J. Motley Jr. and Langston Hughes. Vida's work has appeared in multiple journals and anthologies such as the Creativity and Constraint Anthology for Wising Up Press, a Civil Rights Retrospective with the Black Earth Institute, Tabula Poetica with Chapman Universities, Transitions Magazine at the Hutchinson Institute, the Cave Canem Anthology 12, the Literary Review with Farley Dickinson University, Read Magazine at Reed College, and the Journal of Film and Video from the University of Illinois at Chicago. Her amazing poetry collection, Bronzeville at Night, 1949, was published by Avst Press. 

Vida Cross holds an MFA in Writing and an MFA in Filmmaking from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, an MA in English from Iowa State University, and a BA from Knox College. She is, among many other things, a faculty member at Milwaukee Area Technical College and chairperson of the Wisconsin Poet Laureate Commission. Thank you for joining us, Vida Cross.

Thank you. Thank you. When and how did you first fall in love with writing? Well, in Chicago, we know that I'm from Chicago, and my mom was, I think, an avid reader, I would say, because she was always bringing books into the home. 

At some point in my childhood, she was in college, and so I think we mailed through the books that she brought home from school, and she also read them to us as well. So when she was taking a course, we would listen to her in some way, shape, or form talk about that course. But at some point, she brought home a book called New Voices, which was an anthology of African American poets. 

I believe it was called Going Down Our Memories, and it had some of the poets from the 1800s or early 1900s, all the way up until, I believe, the 60s and 70s. And so I would read through that book and enjoy many of the writers, I believe, if my memory is correct. Some of the writers that I would go on to meet later were in that book. 

And so I responded heavily to it, and I began to write on my own and to read some of my poems aloud to my sisters. So I believe that was when I began to respond to poetry, and I haven't been like 10, thinking about where we were living at that time. I think I was 10 or 11. 

Later, when I was in high school, I wanted to join this newspaper. I was fascinated with this newspaper that was in the city of Chicago. I don't know if it's still there.

Tried to look it up. Occasionally, I would try to look it up, and I haven't been able to find it. But there was this newspaper that was independent of any high school institution that I knew of.

So I went to a high school. I went to Lindblum Technical High School, and we had a newspaper on our campus. We had, you know, clubs, various language clubs and whatnot that I could have joined. 

But I really wanted to be a part of this particular newspaper that was independent, and that was distributed throughout the city. And so I somehow responded to something that they sent out and went to their offices and wanted to be a journalist. The woman in charge of the magazine decided, or the newspaper decided that, and this was on our first meeting, that first little interview, she decided that it would be better for me to be in charge of the creative writing insert that was new to the newspaper. 

They had a new grant, and they were going to insert creative writing. They were going to insert creative writing into the newspaper on a bi-monthly, bi-weekly occurrence. I know I tried to push back. 

I think I probably said, well, I came here to do journalism. And she was like, no, it would be better for you to do creative writing. So at this early time in my life, I was now in charge of the creative writing process at the newspaper, and I had to assemble people to create creative work, to create fiction, to create poetry that will be added to this insert and added to the newspaper.

And so with that in mind, I then had to take the people who responded to my ad for new work and host a workshop. And I did. Once a week, I believe, in the evening hours, I would host a workshop for writers so we could go over each other's fiction and poetry. 

And then I would select which one was finished and add it to the drafting of the insert, and then we publish it in the newspaper later. So that was the beginning of my writing career. That's awesome. 

Nothing like being thrown in the deep end, eh? You also are very interested in the Underground Railroad. And when did you first become aware of these stories, the Underground Railroad stories? I became, it was a full walk, I think. And writing is a long journey sometimes when you're trying to finish a project. 

And so it began with me being interested in slavery and food. So I wanted to know what the cooking process was and what things were happening around that time. And I wanted to look more into like the ground, the trees, the things that were grown on the land. 

And that evolved into me studying facilities, buildings, and locations. And that evolved into me going to the South to do research and archive. And before I did that, I also visited Detroit. 

And when I saw the monument in Detroit that references people crossing the river into Canada, then I knew, suddenly, I wanted to anchor myself in the Underground Railroad and the journey that people took from slavery to freedom. I still have not found the mirroring monument here in Windsor, but before I leave, I should go visit it. Yeah. 

I think Irene can help you with that. So yeah, where is the location of that? Dita, I was actually on the committee that put that monument there and the Detroit one. My mom was the chair. 

I would be happy to show it to you before you leave. We're talking about the Tower of Freedom in Windsor and the Gateway to Freedom in Detroit, which are the International Underground Railroad Memorial. Anyway, back to our interview.

Yes. The poetic research of Langston Hughes has been cited as one of your major influences. What can you tell us about Langston Hughes' poetic research and what impact has his approach had on your own work? His voice is central to my understanding of poetry. 

I think I began reading Langston Hughes, at least when I began reading the book when I was younger, New Voices, and also with my mom going to college and reading her books to us when she was in school. Langston Hughes is the cornerstone of blues and jazz poetry, and I can't remember a time when I was not familiar with his work. So I have to remind myself. 

In fact, so I'm coming here to Windsor to study the Underground Railroad, but I've had my Langston Hughes work, my Langston Hughes book with me to say, go back and remember to read Langston Hughes On Your Journey, because his voice, his style, his approach, his journey, he's written so many books, are important sometimes to reminding you of how you may want to have his work influence your own work. So Langston Hughes he, I think about sometimes, I think about how he crawled into a car with Marian McLeod Bethune. I may have her first name incorrect, but he crawled into a car, went on a road trip with her. 

They were traveling, and I just think about that sometimes when I'm interacting with other scholars and going on either a mental journey or a physical journey with someone to explore subject matter. So yeah, his work is very important. And he had such an amazing friendship with Zora Neale Hurston too, right? And I think often about what it must have been like to be a fly on that wall. 

So congratulations on being the University of Windsor's first ever Visiting Fulbright Scholar, Visiting Fulbright Research Chair. Can you share a little bit about what you've been learning in the Windsor-Essex region and here in the Detroit River Borderlands? And can you share a little bit about the creative work that you're hoping to produce based on these months of discovery? I can, but I know that it won't be as eloquent as some of the many historians here. But I would share that mine is a journey of exploration.

And the process that I go through, I'll try to give an overview and to talk about process. My goal when coming here was to study the people or to study the pathways and the history. I didn't realize that there were so many people and so many pathways, and that it is a journey and an enjoyment of their lives from one historic figure to another. 

The Walls, the Elliot, the Taylors, so many people who have been here and who have left their stamp on the history here in Windsor. So I've been studying, trying to make sure that I focus primarily on the 1850s to the 1860s. The many people who came here, I've read parts of the Voice of a Fugitive, Henry Did newspaper. 

And my journey was one where I looked at the newspaper page by page and really wanted to read the ads. I really wanted to see the inserts and found it very fascinating. And one of the reasons why I wanted to read it page by page was to just get a sense of the time.

Sometimes you're not really trying to anchor yourself with monuments or with dates and things that happen on a particular date and time. You're trying to get a sense of how people were thinking and moving about and making decisions during that time. So that's been one of my journeys.

You had a two-part question. Oh, the writing process. The writing process is one where it can be overwhelming to study, to dive into so much history. 

And one of the things that I had to do was, I started with trying to make a map or timeline. And then I started with, then I went down to, moved on to working with characters and just filling my book up with characters. You don't want to, or references to characters. 

You don't want to share too much with the writing process because you don't want too much outside influence until you have a finished project. And so that has been part of my work. With the Fulbright process, you have to explain your project. 

And one of the fantastic things is people wanted to really help me and give me as much information as possible. And that has been fantastic. People have just given me, if they're researching something, they'll say, you need to look at this and you need to look at that. 

And that has been fantastic. But you also walk around a little bit afraid because you don't want to have too much revealed because you don't know how much you may paint. You don't know if you'll go left or if you'll go right. 

So that's been, that's been, it's a vague answer, I think, to your question. I'm not sure if I answered it, but that's what I've been going through. You did a super job of answering it. 

And of those things, what is the most astonishing thing you've learned while conducting research in this region for your new project? Oh, there's been so many things. I'm surprised. I was thinking about this because I went back to Boston. 

I've been to, sometimes I'll go to a location and do research and then just go back. And so I went to Boston about a month and a half ago. And yesterday I decided to go back. 

I have to decide within the next three days that I'm here, what's the most important thing for me to do before I leave. So I went back to Boston and I was thinking about what it was like when I came, what my mental thoughts were when I came versus now. And one of the things that I realized is that I thought, I probably assumed that Canada would be like Iowa in the United States, if you know Iowa. 

So I assumed, and be careful when you're at home, I, in my mind, and I don't think I realized it, thought it would be a little bit of like Iowa's small history of people who have come there, who are referenced in history and who are no longer there. Or they have a few descendants and they're scattered about throughout the state. Iowa is a predominantly white state and the history of the African American population is very, very, very, very white. 

So I thought it would be like that, like snippets of history in time, rooted in time, and some descendants. That's what I thought. The opposite is true.

And I come to Windsor and it's large amounts of people who came here, large amounts of people who carved out their history, even if they left, they carved out their presence here, left in a spirit impact, made sure that they were aligned with ending slavery, working to end slavery, working to carve out their lifestyles here, and making sure that they left proof of existence. And their kids are still here. The land is still here.

Evidence of their existence is still here. Totally opposite. Absolutely mind-boggling.

And so I asked the woman in charge of the Buxton Museum yesterday, I believe her name is Michelle Irene, who's in your closet. I said, is it different? Am I wrong? Am I wrong? Like, tell me I'm not confused here. Because it's totally different from what I expected. 

And totally different from how we navigate our history. And that's totally different, but different from how we navigate our history in the U.S. Because our history in the U.S. is different. And so it's mind-boggling.

That is so heartwarming to hear that observation. Thank you so much. Yeah.

Stories of how people survived slavery, the Underground Railroad, and the aftermath can be both inspiring and traumatic. How heavy is the burden of writing about this history? And what kind of self-care practices help you to keep everything in balance? That's a great question. I thought about that. 

I was talking to someone before I came here about how you can only write about what you can deal with yourself. And I think I've read so many stories that there's a lot that I could write about right now. I'm a squeamish writer. 

Like, I don't really, throughout my undergrad years, I wouldn't really read anything about abuse or misaligned body parts and what not. But that doesn't mean that you don't take it on yourself. That just because you might not be in the mood right now to read someone else's work that has some things that are difficult to read doesn't mean that you can't take it on yourself. 

And mentally I can because I've read so many of these slave narratives. I think there's a lot that I could write about that's squeamish and difficult. But before I came here and I was talking to someone about that, I said, you only tackle what you personally could explain to the public.

And we were talking about that because there's so much. And I thought about it ahead of time. I think that the bar has shifted for me and that I could tackle more in terms of the greediness and the grime of slavery. 

Thank you for answering that question. I mean, it's a lot to handle, but I'm glad that you are contending well with this material that you're encountering and perhaps meeting descendants and having that sense of the life that continued afterward is helpful. There's such a strong sense of place in so much of your work, including but not limited to obviously Bronzeville at Night 1949. 

I don't know whether you'll be in a position to answer this question yet or whether it will come to you later, but are you able to describe the impact that living and working in Windsor-Essex have had on your writing of this new work? Yes, because I have to. The Fulbright requires that you write about that, the impact and how your research has impacted your work, has impacted you, and has impacted maybe the communities that you will be working with. So yeah, I haven't done it yet. 

I haven't carved out my narrative that I must submit, but yeah, I'll be writing about it. I think I talked about it a little bit in the video that we created, Irene, about how you have to be, well, I was aware of my emotional response when I went and visited the Josiah Henson Museum, and I think I'm making sure that I'm aware of my emotional responses as I go from one place to another or as I read one piece or another. After I read something or visit a place or interact with people, if it has impacted me, I talk to my husband all the time, I'll repeat it to him and say, oh, this is what I read or this is what I experienced.

And so I try to, oh, just because he, I try to have him experience whatever I'm experiencing, that's going to be something I'm going to do. But I think as a person, I try to be aware of my, how something impacts me or influences me right away. Even if I wasn't going to write about it, just making sure that I think about it right away.

The poetry in Bronzeville at Night is quite beautiful, but the book itself is striking, from the cover art by Archibald J. Motley to the division of the book into three sections, the neighborhood peoples, the children, the chitlins, and the preacher and his wife, the glossy black pages that separate the sections. How much impact did your editor have on the structure of the book? And how much of the decision making the design was yours? I wanted to make sure that Archibald J. Motley's artwork was on the cover. The black pages was their, their idea. 

I didn't know that they would include the black pages. I loved them. And the three sections is how I carved out the book and submitted it.

When I was structuring the book, I did it in two different ways. And at one point, it was in the three sections where I knew that I was focusing on older people, neighborhood people, parents, a couple, a couple, a man, a man of white who were parents, neighborhood people, and children. And I knew that. 

And as I was writing, I knew that I was carving out voices for this, this community in that way. But, um, and I, at one point, I divided them up in that way. And then I went back to a normal, like linear structure that you would see in most books. 

And it wasn't working. That wasn't working for me. I said, you have to go back to that divided up structure, no matter what, because it just makes sense for you. 

And sometimes when you're submitting your book, you're sending it out. And he's saying, well, what is it that is not speaking to a publisher? What's not resonating with them? So I had taken the chapters apart and put them in some type of linear fashion that I thought other books would, would exist in. And it just didn't work for me. 

So I've reorganized it and said, I'm just going to send it out like this. My editors did a little bit of what you traditionally think of with editors and structuring and proofreading. But in terms of format, I had a lot of say, I think.

Would you like to read some of your work from this book for our listeners? I'm going to read this poem called Bodacious. And I'll start by saying that there's this notion, so Archibald B. Motley has this, this painting and this painting is called Bronzeville at Night. It's on the cover of the book I'm holding it.

But he always has these women in his paintings they have on the red dress. There are a lot of night scenes. In Chicago, the night scene could play in and on State Street in the Bronzeville area of Chicago. 

And just for people, the Bronzeville area is what traditionally was called the Black Belt. It was the restricted area where Black people lived and worked and migrated to from the South to the North, coming to Chicago. And Motley has a woman sort of center stage in the painting who's in a red dress. 

And sometimes in his other paintings, there are red dresses and nightclubs and whatnot. So, because people associate jazz and blues and night scene with sin or with, yeah, with sin. I, the name Bodacious I got from, it's often used now, but when I was in college, there was a woman that people call Bodacious. 

And it just so happens somewhere around the time that I wrote this poem, she, I ran into her. We hadn't seen each other in years. And I ran into her at a conference and I called, I said, hey, hey, Bodacious. 

And she said, do not call me that. That is not my name. So, I felt like he gave it up. 

So, I took it. Yes, I put it, I put it in this poem because I always liked it. And so, I don't write this poem to say a negative thing about a female.

I write it to say a positive thing about a female. So, Bodacious. She'd walk up and take the sandwich from your hand to feed her kid. 

He'd wear red round her rear to Sunday surveys. Her lips were painted red. Her nails were painted red. 

He made looking away from you look easy and telling you all easier. He boldly walked into church and kissed the preacher's cheek. He laughed loud and folded Lonnie into her bra. 

He's the reason the witch doctor wore rose scented cologne. The painter had to paint her, he said, nude. And she allowed him to follow her around for days. 

He knew she drank beer and smoked cigarettes. He knew she lived in a gray stone on St. Lawrence Avenue with her mother. Her mother babysat her kid. 

She shopped once a month at Marshall Fields and paid extra to have things delivered. The father of two of her three boys was Robert King, one of Big Daddy King's sons from the King's Report. The paper painted her. 

The painter painted her by looking into her window. He painted her while she undressed in another room and half her body, including one butt cheek, was exposed. He painted her under the light of a shaded lamp, wearing only pumps, brown skin, and milk beneath her pores. 

Beautiful. Thank you so much for joining us, Vida Cross. Vida Cross is the Visiting Fulbright Research Chair who is with us at the University of Windsor researching underground railroad history and local stories, and we look forward to eventually reading the new work that will be produced based on that learning. 

Thank you, Vida Cross.