Born in Houston, Texas, the publication that would become Ushindi grew out of a desire by adults of the community to help guide adolescents into adulthood. In 1917, their early efforts were manifested in “Victory Notes for Colored Youth.” Over time, this publication would evolve into Ushindi Magazine.
Several years ago, a collective was formed to preserve and communicate the values expressed through the publication over time. Our digital project is the latest iteration of this practice. The service of young people is always at the core of everything we do. We want to preserve these ideas for ourselves and generations unborn.
We have worked to present the print editions of the magazine as close to their original forms as possible. The first digitized issue was our centennial magazine published in 2017 following the events of Hurricane Harvey.
Ushindi Magazine’s special edition for Autumn 2017.
What Day Did You Know Yourself?
What day did you realize that the little boy in the mirror was you?
That the grinning child matched your every movement, each gesture
Was it a sudden, shocking revelation?
Or did it come about in bits and pieces?
Whenever that day was, forever after, you knew him.
When you got up in the morning to brush your teeth, he was there.
When you wanted to measure how much you had grown over the summer, he was staring back at you.
Sizing you up. Comparing you to those other kids in that mirror world of his.
When you practiced how you would get the pretty student’s number
Just the right balance of respect and swag
How to time it so that the other kids in 5th period don’t see
Of course, that one junior sees everything and makes a scene ☹!
The young man greeted you at that mirror when you were preparing to move out the house. Go off to school and learn some things.
That adult life was yours!
When did it happen?
When did you realize that you weren’t the person you dreamed you’d be?
Was it a sudden, shocking revelation?
Or did it come about in bits and pieces?
Did the man looking back at you like what he saw? He wasn’t grinning any longer.
He wasn’t jumping in and out of your sight like he did when you were a toddler.
He was questioning you.
How were you staking up to the people in that mirror world of his?
What was the measure of the one staring back at you?
Whenever that day was, forever after,
What would you do about it?
Dialogues-
“Works of art, music, literature, dance, and cinema that connect the past to our present as a basis for the future.”- Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o
A rites of passage group from Houston near the African Burial Ground in New York City, 2017.
“I wish to raise a Black man who will not be destroyed by, nor settle for, those corruptions called power by the white fathers who mean his destruction as surely as they mean mine.”- Audre Lorde, Man Child
No Marker
I dream you
I want to know how to know you
Beyond sight, I call your name
You, who were the Grandfather of my father’s father
You, who built life in Houston when it was more a hamlet than the metropolis it would be
How might I know you?
Not only your victories, but your failures, your setbacks
What made you the man you were and through that process, what was in you that was passed to the rest of us?
The 1890 city directory lists you as a driver living at 1012 Bingham
At that point, you had purchased the land and lived there with your wife for decades
You two had twins late in life
Soon after they were born, she would proceed you into eternity
You all lived through furious times
I have so many questions without answers
Did you celebrate Juneteenth?
What were your thoughts of Camp Logan?
What did you think of your sons’ desire to make their way through Baseball?
Were you an involved Father?
Were you supportive or aloof?
Whatever your qualities, my father’s grandfather wanted to remember you
Naming was a way to assert control in a volatile world
This obsession with naming our sons after those we love…
The desire to be reminded of our antecedent when we call our children’s name
You didn’t initiate this tradition, but your name was carried on
Of course, you had made your transition decades before your grandchildren were born and they would never know you in person
But your name was carried on by your son’s second son
What was it about you that your own son hoped to remember?
I never had a chance to meet him on this side
How sad that the entirety of our lives can be reduced to a single line in a city directory
What justice does that designation bring you?
What honor does it bring us?
How do you feel about your descendants?
Why don’t they know you?
Photograph of the remains of the North family home on Bingham Street in the First Ward of Houston, Texas. The land was purchased by Henry North in the nineteenth century and passed on to his two sons.
Temples and our Imagination
The kids surround us before we begin
Their teacher brought them here for a tour
To a place where art dances and sings on the walls
A place where images run around corners and to the top of ceilings
Where reflections of the past confront snapshots of the present
How could one not be moved by this place?
My mind returns to my first visit, when a great uncle brought me here
Even then, I noticed that the artworks seemed to speak to each other across time
My uncle wasn’t affiliated with the art department but he was fond of the artwork
As an educator, he had an appreciation for the effect such images might have on a young mind
To the outside world, this space was an administration building that served the needs of the Texas Southern University community
But it was more than that
Over the generations, this building became an art museum
To the graduating students tasked with creating a mural, it became a rite of passage towards their artistic ambitions
We do our best to impart this perspective to the students that visit
The images of angels rising from ashes
The musical notes that appear to jump off the walls
As with many children, we don’t know what will speak to their spirits
Still I see hints that the imagery is having an impact
As they walk, they resist the urge to stay in one place and gaze at the walls
The walls of Hannah Hall, Houston
They linger by the imagery
These walls have a voice
The murals reflect a diversity of experience that was rarely presented in a city like ours
Stories of student protest, stories of triumph over imperialism, Stories of war
But there are also stories of love, family, and faith
Stories of individual achievement and collective imaginings of the future
The walls retain the dialogue between generations
Each Generation of artists spoke out to the world
The next generation answered
Then the next
And so on
The images on the walls were there. An assertion of values and memory
These students were responding to the world as it was
And many of them chose to take another step in building the world as it could be
When we leave with the student visitors, the murals wait
They wait to welcome the next generation of students into the temple
Those that will join in this dialogue held in and out of time.