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Community Church for February 20, 2022

By February 17, 2022Community Church
The Community Church Newsletter for February 20, 2022. In this week’s newsletter we get a summary from Deacon David of the fun that was had at the Family Retreat that took place at Camp St Croix last weekend. There’s also announcements about a number of things you need to know, including the first batch of links to articles and podcasts recommended by a group of HTLC members who completed a year’s worth of study and reflection on social justice through the ACTION Project (A Commitment to Inclusion in Our Neighborhoods), an interdenominational project led by Pastor Jia Starr Brown.  You’ll find more hyperlinks throughout—we’re planning to use hyperlinks in the newsletter more frequently to save space and to be able to provide more information at the click of your mouse.

Here’s an added bonus that didn’t make it into our newsletter:

Julia Constanza Burgos García was a teacher, activist, journalist, poet and celebrated literary icon of the Americas whose themes of Blackness, feminism, love, migration, nationalism, and nature helped birth the 1960s Nuyorican movement. Julia de Burgos was born February 17, 1914, in Santa Cruz, Carolina, Puerto Rico. In honor of the anniversary of her birth, we encourage you to learn more about this tenacious and accomplished woman.

https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/julia-de-burgos-1914-1953/

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/02/obituaries/overlooked-julia-de-burgos.html

https://www.fembio.org/english/biography.php/woman/biography/julia-de-burgos1/

https://www.literaryladiesguide.com/classic-women-authors-poetry/poems-julia-de-burgos-puerto-rican-poet/

An excerpt of one of de Burgos’ poems, Ay, Ay, Ay of the Black Grifa:

Ay, ay, ay, that am kinky-haired and pure black
kinks in my hair, Kafir in my lips;
and my flat nose Mozambiques.

Black of pure tint, I cry and laugh
the vibration of being a black statue;
a chunk of night, in which my white
teeth are lightning;
and to be a black vine
which entwines in the black
and curves the black nest in which the raven lies.

Black chunk of black in which I sculpt myself,
ay, ay, ay, my statue is all black.
They tell me that my grandfather was the slave
for whom the master paid thirty coins.

Ay, ay, ay, that the slave was my grandfather
is my sadness, is my sadness.
If he had been the master
it would be my shame:
that in men, as in nations,
if being the slave is having no rights
being the master is having no conscience.