She reportedly asked her mother, "Mama, did Aunt Maxine make this up? Did you guys actually 'play white'?"

My sister-in-law told her, "Not only did we play white, we dreamed in white. That's all we ever saw in the books or on TV were white characters. It seemed like they had all the fun."

Typically, most Blacks grew up in the 50's with pictures on the wall of white Jesus, white Santa Claus and even white angels. There was nothing in the media or in books that reflected the beauty of blackness. Needless to say, if there were any books beside the Bible in the home, they were not Black books. It sent a silent message that Black was ugly and white was beautiful. This was as negative of an experience as when reading was forbidden to slaves.

Fast-forward almost half a century. I know from rearing my children, who are now all adults, that having had Black books in the home was, and remains, a good influence on their self-esteem and confidence. When a person sees himself reflected in the literature he or she reads, it indirectly helps build a better self-image. For in literature, we find our role models, our archetypes from which we can learn life lessons. More specifically, in African American literature, the stories are relevant to the Black experience in this country. These experiences range from people coming from different socio-economic classes, from varying urban to country regions, to different professions. We often get the Alger Horatio rags-to-riches story to its reversal, the riches-to-rags story. Most of these stories make social commentaries on how we all play a part in the symphony of the American Dream.

"Black Writers on The Rise," the headlines screamed. I believed them. After all, seeing the different genres of African American books in the local, predominantly Black bookstores, who wouldn't think that? Hadn't things improved for us as Black writers, since the late 1980s? However, after attending the Book Expo of America (formerly the American Book Association) held in Los Angeles, California in late April 1999, I had a rude awakening. Because of seeing all the books in the predominantly Black book stores scattered throughout LA, I had been lulled into a false sense of complacency that we, as African American writers, were being published at the same rate as mainstream books. To say the least, I was disillusioned.

Yes, The Book Expo of 1999 was a big eye-opener. The bad news is this: Our problems (as African American writers) are far from over. When I compared the books represented by the major publishers, I saw that the percentage of Black books is infinitesimally small compared to that of other races. Not one to be a soothsayer, but I feel the number of African American books can disappear like they did after the Harlem Renaissance, after the late 40s, and after the Revolutionary 60s, if we don't take control of our own written words.

However, the good news is this. The increase that is witnessed in the number of African American books can be attributed, by-and-large, not only to more Black publishing companies, Black editors, but to self-published books. Given the advent of desktop publishing, the Internet, and Black book clubs, many writers are taking control of our destines and empowering ourselves by publishing our own stories.

So consider these questions. What are other ways having more Black books have helped? Is it easier to get published by mainstream as a Black writer, in a tight publishing market? Why is self-publishing so important, particularly for Black writers, if you can't get your books published by mainstream? To encourage other writers to pen their stories, here are some of the good things Black literature has brought to this country.

1. Salvation. To paraphrase Toni Cade Bambara, fiction snatches you back from the edge as a Black person in America.

2. Continuity with your ancestors. To paraphrase Toni Morrison, "If you are not writing about the Village which you come from then you are not writing about anything."

3. A reading audience who is eager to see stories that reflect their reality.

4. A way of restoring history, which was not allowed to be written down in the past.

5. A way of lifting up the next generation through the printed word, in addition to our oral tradition, which is reflected in rap, Hip Hop and Poetry.

6. A way of promoting racial understanding for other ethnic groups. I learn a lot about other parts of the Diaspora when I read books by Haitian Americans, or when I read Chinese American literature or any other culture's literature.

Recently, a teacher told me at a book signing, that a study was done at her school. It was found that all the little Black girls said that their image of beauty was still a blond, blue-eyed child. Imagine! This was December 1999! It reminds me of the tragic tale in Toni Morrison's book, The Bluest Eyes, where the scourged Black child, Pecola, went insane, all because she wanted blue eyes. This book's setting was circa 1940.

My point is this. If we keep writing our stories down, we, as African American writers, may not ever have parity in the world of books. But at the same time, we won't have another generation of little Black girls playing white, like my friends and I did, with scarves and towels draped over our hair, which we felt wasn't beautiful enough. Or perhaps, we won't have little girls going crazy like the fictional Pecola did.

About the author: A former social worker of 23 years, Maxine Thompson has published two novels, The Ebony Tree and No Pockets in a Shroud, A Place Called Home, two self-help books, The Hush Hush Secrets of Writing Fiction That Sells, and How To Market, Promote and Sell Your Ebooks. She has had numerous short stories, articles and essays published in magazines, anthologies and e-zines. Recently she began an on-line column to promote the works of new and self-published writers. The column is called, On The Same Page. Since 1999, she has written book reviews and columns across the Internet. Since 2002 she has hosted an on-line radio show on www.voiceamerica.com called "On The Same Page". The show is aired live on Tuesdays at 6:00 a.m. Pacific Time, 6:00 p.m. Pacific Time and Saturday 1:00 p.m. You can visit Maxine's website at www.maxinethompson.com.

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When the Lute is Broken

by Ben Passikoff

You took a warm bath in my blood.

My entries opened to several you;

you left your esoteric underwear

in questions on my carpet, littering

my senses red with your geometry.


We were two capos kissing:

who will get lilies, who will get older -

circled by symmetric Uzis

sombrero-hidden, repeating death

in separate red instants.


Dancers on imagined feet,

ballet in tiger tempo,

arteries the only noise;

omening stiff toes stringed

with ultimate ID's.


Animal-eyed we sniff each other

into streets overgrown with people.

Conditions of your beauty hold -

specific limbs rhyming,

pouty buttocks, etc. Lips close


your teeth red with my demented flesh,

eyes nailing me to last wood,

hacked from instalment furniture.

Precise violins dirge the scene.


Tune in next week for conclusion.


About the poet: Ben lives in Flushing, New York. You can drop him a line at benpas969@aol.com.

Rocking

by Durlabh Singh

Rocking the horse of darkness in a sea saw

Escaping from sweltering debris of confines
A resolve for illuminations, a less stultifying
Than the soundless voices of the tears
The children dying of the hunger
Mute animals slaughtered in the fears.

It happened that I have
An aptitude for the depths of being
An aptitude for neglects by slumbers
An aptitude for opacity of wonders
To let in sidereal spaces of emptiness
Not sultry smells of worldly adherence
But badges of courage for hopes renewed.

Fare forwarding from antique shores
To save my body and the skull
Even in endowment of the catastrophe
I will find some vehicle of limpid living
Float winged surges under the directions
In collision with battlements against fevers.

About the poet: Durlabh Singh was born in Nairobi, Kenya. After completing several higher education programmes at Panjab University, in India and in the United Kingdom, he turned to arts, painting and poetry, with much prestigious activity in exhibiting and publishing his work. He is a Member of the International Artists Association, Free Painters and Sculptors, National Artists Association UK and European Union Migrant Artists Network. He lives in London, runs creative writing courses and poetry reading workshops, and gives regular poetry readings at various venues in London, the U.S.A., India and Kenya. His poetry has been published in over 150 publications; his work can be viewed on several Internet sites.