I promised I’d take a shot at stirring some kind of catalyzing agent into this pot, so I want to broach a topic that’s been on my mind for quite a while:
Moderated readings.
Or, as some call it, “censorship.”
I know this has been a touchy topic around town for quite a while now. Some lash out at such language restrictions. Some blatantly flaunt them, dancing with the threats of angry store managers.
I just want to ask why.
Before the anti-censorship mobs come to string me up, I’m going to make it clear that I’m no prude. You’re not going to scar my tender little ears by throwing out some graphic descriptions or other language not approved by the FCC. I gladly stand up for the freedom of speech, and I’ll be the first person to argue that there are times, pieces, instances when such language is warranted—yea, even necessary—in a poem. But the skillful artist knows the time and the place.
When language restrictions have been repeatedly made clear, there is no need for someone to attend such a reading and drop four-letter words like sprinkles on a cupcake. (And just to be clear, I’m speaking in generalizations here; not calling anyone out specifically. It’s just that I’ve seen and heard this happen all too often.) I can almost understand such a slip if a poet had never been to a certain reading before, didn’t know the rules beforehand, or was used to readings without any rules imposed by the hosting establishment. (Although, when in doubt, wouldn’t one prefer to err on the side of caution?) But long-time attendees have no excuse whatsoever.
Folks like to declare that they are simply standing up for their divinely ordained right to free speech.
I’d like to argue that by doing so, you’re restricting my own.
I’ve said this before, but I’m going to repeat myself. Poetry is already a hard enough gig. We’re already fighting the fearful stereotypes of long-winded and dry high school literature teachers trying to pound iambic pentameter into teenage minds. Or the stereotypes of black-turtlenecked hipsters wearing berets and snapping their fingers. The wider world doesn’t understand poetry, and as such, fears it. Our goal, as poets, should be to make our art as open and accessible to the population at large as we possibly can in order to break down that fear.
So when an autonomous business, like a bookstore or a coffeehouse, graciously opens its doors to willingly host a poetry reading but adds, “We don’t want any bad language. We don’t want to offend our regular clientele,” I don’t understand why this should be an unreasonable request. They want to be open-minded, but they’re still running a business, and need to be as user-friendly as possible to the broadest audience. We just want a place to read and perform, where our words can reach the broadest audience. This should be a happy relationship.
But it’s not, because too many people constantly feel the need to push the limits of those clearly-stated, black-and-white, easy-to-follow rules.
I’ve found many very nice local establishments--good-vibed gathering places, independently-owned shops (hooray for local businesses!)--after which I’ve inquired about poetry readings or the possibility of my performing during their regular open mic nights. And I’ve been turned down. And why?
A precedent was set, long before I even came on the scene. More than once, I’ve heard, “Well, we tried it, but people just got vulgar,” or, “We told people the rules ahead of time, and they still wouldn’t follow them, so now we just don’t allow poetry/spoken word/etc.” And thus, those who fail to respect the wishes of the hosts, who fail to recognize when to keep themselves in check, have stripped the freedom of speech from everyone. Why is it so difficult to open one’s eyes and be a little bit aware of the surroundings and the audience? Keep oneself in check when in a coffee house frequented by family-oriented patrons, but feel free to let loose in the good-natured rowdiness of a venue like the Lit Café.
If we call ourselves writers, shouldn’t we have broad enough vocabularies that we are able to write a poem that is appropriate for a “moderated” venue? And if not, and we feel that the profanity is so central to our work, then why not simply fail to attend a moderated reading? There are plenty of forums here in Cleveland where language restrictions don’t exist. (In fact, I think “moderated readings” tend to be in the minority in this town—and I happily attend both open readings and moderated.) There’s no need to push the envelope in venues with rules when there are far more welcoming forums for those “edgier” poets and poems.
Why try to get your fellow poets forcibly removed from what would have otherwise been a welcoming forum? Why perpetuate further stereotypes of poets as being raunchy and vulgar, as being unsuitable entertainment for a more timid clientele? (Aren’t we trying to prove that poetry is for everyone, afterall?) Why be so closed-minded—that’s right, I said it—closed-minded about people’s reasons for hosting moderated readings? Why make our art even more inaccessible to the masses?
Some point to revolutionary artists of the past, declaring that we need to carry on their tradition of pushing the envelope, but those folks actually had something to lash out against during their time. But today, in 2009, what injustice are you fighting by dropping the f-bomb in a Borders? And whose cause are you furthering? You could be Shakespeare himself, but I guarantee, if you drop a foul cuss in a family-friendly venue—even if the gist of your poem was powerful, thought-provoking, even life-changing--I hate to tell you this, but all they’re going to hear was “fuck”, and they won’t care if the rest of what you had to say was a Pulitzer-worthy dissertation.
We’ve got something to say. Remove the barriers that are preventing it from being heard.
