jeanette redmond's child
by julie savage parker

My first introduction to Ms. Glenis Redmond—Jeanette Redmond's child—was through Jeanette Redmond's mama (and Glenis' grandmama) Katie Latimore, now 104 years old.

Local filmmaker Debra Roberts first met 'Great Katie' (so nicknamed by Glenis' twin daughters Amber and Celeste) when she filmed Mama's Magic [a video collection of some of Glenis work] several years ago. At the end of an afternoon of filming, Debra sat with Katie on her couch and they silently gazed and smiled at each other for a long time. Debra said afterwards "I felt like I had fallen into a galaxy of stars through Katie’s eyes. It is a rare thing to be in the presence of someone whose life has spanned over a hundred years, especially the life of an African American woman in the South."

This is a family of strong women, from Great Katie at almost 104 through Jeanette and Glenis down to Amber and Celeste at 14. This strength— this backbone—is clearly visible in Glenis' work. Her lineage and in the broader sense her heritage are integral to her work.

It was only about twelve years ago that Glenis really stepped out as a poet.
"I was a poet, probably from the womb, but I had forgotten about the poetry because I was so busy trying to be a good daughter, a good wife, a good everything else, I forgot about myself. I put poetry on the back burner. It wasn't until I was twenty-eight when I had my mid-life crisis—a little early! I was married, my daughters were two years old—two year old twins. I was counseling, working nine to five, and draggin' ass home. Come to find out I was really ill...I had a lot of chronic illnesses but I didn't know it. I went to my boss and she was actually the one who suggested I take some time off, and I burst into tears, in public, which I wasn't used to doing at the time—I was a little straight-laced person. Well I took that time off, medical leave. Never...went...back.

But I did go to a conference called Healthy Connections for counselors, people working in that field. I had already signed up so I decided to go anyway, and that is when a door opened. The door had opened with the illness, but the door really widened when I was at Malaprop's. They happened to be down in Greenville with their books. I had already picked up about six books (I am a bookaholic) and told my friend "Don't let me buy another book", but this red book kept calling me. Later, my friend said to me "You know that book you picked up? There is a woman downtown teaching a workshop on that book." The book was The Artist's Way.

I immediately picked up the phone, called the teacher, and every Saturday for the next 12 weeks I met with a group of 21 people—all facets of the community: downtown Greenville South Carolina, lawyers, doctors, teachers...artists, wannabes. I thought I was going back to be a visual artist because I had all these images in my head—vivid, colorful. But we started writing in The Artist's Way, and we'd read, we'd check in every Saturday. When I'd read, people would say "You're a writer!" and was like "Really??" So I started doing my morning pages and the poetry just started flowing. And that's really the very very beginning.

You know, I look back at that time, every one of us that took that workshop, something phenomenal happened to our loves. I'm not saying phenomenal in the sense that money rained from the skies, but the world opened up. It provided a whole new community for me, a community of artists. For me, the nine-to-five world was killing me spiritually, emotionally, and physically. And so that is when I shifted."

JP: And the Tribe of Twenty Women workshop you are doing this month, are you seeing worlds opening up for the women attending?

"The Tribe of Twenty really means coming back and embracing that, giving women that opportunity. (The first few of these workshops are open only to women.) It helps people delve into what their thing is. So that is what that was birthed from—The Artist's Way that blew my world wide open—and that's what I want to happen for other women. I see women who are somewhat shut down or disconnected from their center, and it is in that workshop I gave myself to be permission to be myself. The workshop is not The Artist's Way. There are similarities, but mine focuses a bit more on the spirituality aspect of it and on storytelling...on telling your own story, creating your own story. It will start as two days, 10-20 women. Eventually I'd like to see it a week long workshop with other artists helping me teach it.

I speak metaphorically as a writer. I paint for myself...it is more like my journaling. There is a release in that, and there is that component in the workshop. Turning inward to get our information. Everything you need you already have....but spending time in meditation, I think you switch to another part of your brain. Moving toward a week long you can really travel that terrain.

For me, 1993 was the year everything fell through the roof, fell out. For a year there I had no identification...it was a year-long struggle for me. It was the best struggle because I started to claim myself. Is it okay to just be me? Around '94 I was with the same group I did Artist's Way with, and we would go out and do functions together. We were at I think an Alvin Ailey performance, during intermission I said to a group of friends "I think I am going to do a reading." and then I went to the bathroom, and when I got back, everything was planned: the date, everything. There was no backing out!

I decided to do five readings a month for year....I don't care where: girls scouts, clubs, wherever. I immersed myself in the world of poetry. I was really purposeful about it. I came up here to do a poetry slam at the Green Door on Carolina Lane. I was this little suburbanite who didn't travel at night...I gathered all my courage, left my husband, kissed the kids, went out in the night and drove to Asheville.

It was the scariest place to me. Bob Falls was in the audience, and he asked me did I want to go on the road and do poetry with Poetry Alive! and I did...for eight weeks. It was lovely working with Poetry Alive!...you get to learn other people's poems, which I loved, too, but I was in the business of figuring out my authentic voice at the time, so I was ready to do my own thing. When I got off the road, I said, well, I want to do this for myself, with my voice."

Glenis spoke of the years she participated in poetry slams. "We are on our 20th year with Poetry Slams...slamming has brought it back into the arena of the common day folk, and that is what I am interested in. I use a common language—I use my own language—to connect, to bridge with other folk. I have some slam friends who are on Broadway with slam poetry, I have another group of friends doing Def Poetry on HBO. There are a few of us—independent folks—who have agents and travel around. This will be my 11th year, full time.

I got an agent four years ago. Before then I was making a living, but I was stretching it very thin. But I have a booking agent...John and Peggy Loyd. When the Ku Klux Klan marched in town about five years ago there was a Unity rally at the Reed Center... people from all backgrounds. Instead of going to protest, we had our own rally and it was there I did a poem called If I Ain't African and John and Peggy happened to be sitting in the audience and John said "Oh this is performance poetry. Well I can book that."

I am so excited about the future of poetry now because it is going into so many different venues...it is going on the stage, it is taking its place.

On The Appearance of Nothing (page 22 in WNC WOMAN. Note that 6 of Glenis' poems are printed in the August 2004 issue of WNC WOMAN.)

"I don't exactly struggle with depression, but I have my blues. There is a poem of mine called Mood Swings and when I am at my lowest point, I believe that nothing good is happening, that there is nothing else ever good gonna happen on the Earth, and it is an illusion. It is a LIE. You are facing downward, you can't see the sun, there is no hope....this really is going to pass. I don't really have to believe that lie that I'm telling myself...There is good stuff happening all the time. Just to shout out to other women. As a youth I was too fast to take it in...it was rich, I had a rich upbringing. Even when it is rough...you just keep walking, putting one foot before the other. You just get small messages like that. It is a quiet poem, it came upon me quietly. As a poet, as a person, my work does have that spiritual underpining. (Rumi is one of my favorite poets.)

I do see that I have grown as a poet....like you see Hats, I don't X it out, I don't say oh, I wrote that when I came back to writing. It stands on its own. I am going to turn it into a children's book...because I go to schools so much and it is one of my most popular poems, I want to give it to the community in that form. I think the other reason that poem is around is because it talks about the Backbone, women who didn't have a whole lot. It was like...six days working in a factory, or working in a field, and they created a culture of more the just religion and worship. I want to cement that visually. I remember Easter—the sea of hats. It is a part of my culture and my background that will never go away."

For more about Glenis Redmond, visit her website at glenisredmond.com and find her work at Malaprop's. For information about Glenis' Tribe of Twenty Women workshop August 20-21, call 828-656-8398.