Fill out our Daily Orange reader survey to make our paper better


Poet channels harships into personal artistry

Piri Thomas likes to talk almost as much as he likes to write.

The poet, activist and author spoke Friday night in Grant Auditorium about his experiences as a child growing up in East Harlem, finding hope and survival through writing while in prison and becoming a renowned poet and author with his best-selling book, ‘Down These Mean Streets,’ published in 1967.

‘I was born with the gift of gab,’ Thomas said with a smile, his eyes wide. ‘I’m a storyteller.’

Thomas’ talk, titled ‘Every Child Is Born a Poet: The Life and Work of Piri Thomas,’ was the final event of this year’s Latino Heritage Month, sponsored by the Office of Multicultural Affairs. This year’s theme was ‘Culture, Identity and Dignity: The Latino Experience.’



Thomas, wearing a loose white shirt and black slacks, took his seat on stage slowly because he had just had back surgery, not because of his age of 74 years. He described himself as a dark-faced, curly-haired, intense Puerto Rican.

‘I could stand in a blizzard, a hurricane, these curlies wouldn’t move,’ Thomas said, pointing to his hair.

Thomas often felt bitter growing up and viewed the world as a dirty Christmas tree, bright and beautiful, but under a sheen of hypocrisy and hard knocks, he said. Others often teased him for his dark skin and his stiff hair, and he’d come home angry. His mother told him not to be ashamed of what he was, and no color was born to be better than any other.

Thomas illustrated his points of struggling with identity and feelings of displacement with many anecdotes of his childhood. Once, after feeling envious of boys with hair they could ‘toss back,’ – as he pretended to throw his hair back – he got his hair permed to straighten and soften it.

‘Oh man, I just got tired of hearing them call me ‘nappy hair,” Thomas said.

But after talking with his father, who convinced him to take pride in who he was, Thomas decided to never change his physical self again.

Yet, to help deal with his anger and bitterness, Thomas used heroin, cocaine and other drugs as a youth. After nearly being killed in a gun battle with the police, he was arrested and served seven years in prison.

‘In prison, I decided when the world wasn’t forgiving me, I was going to forgive it myself,’ Thomas said.

Thomas wrote ‘Down These Mean Streets’ in a spiral-bound red notebook while in cell 515. Writing became his means of survival, a type of meditating, Thomas said. He considers himself a poet first and a writer second.

Thomas’ talk turned political after one audience member asked about his thoughts of the current administration’s actions in Iraq. He said he thought Bush had fooled people into believing there was a need to invade Iraq and the people who voted for Bush didn’t do their homework. But people discouraged with the current state of the government shouldn’t lose hope or a sense of humor and must continue fighting, Thomas said.

Before Thomas took the stage, Fabricio Caro, a senior social work major, began the night by reading his own poem, ‘Material World.’ The poem described Caro’s frustration with the world’s obsession with spending money on material goods.

‘On what sanity does it infringe?’ Caro read.

Thomas’ stories, his poetry and his thoughts of today’s circumstances for youth and national politics impressed many audience members.

‘It was good to see he could relate to us,’ said Abina Griffith, a sophomore information studies and technology major. ‘He had a lot of wisdom.’

‘He was excellent,’ said Lauren Ortiz, a sophomore childhood education major from the State University of New York at Cortland. ‘It was great to hear about a successful Puerto Rican man.’





Top Stories