Piper Dellums – Anima and the Fierce Feminine

This morning, Piper’s talk (Speech? Tirade? Poem?) came from another place. I am mesmerized, lost in the power of it; wondering where it came from and why it lingers in my mind and heart so. There was so much in it; touching on something primal. I called last night an explosion of love.

I know this much: it was triggered by SAME GOD (the film); by Larycia’s story and Linda’s telling of it. It tapped into Piper’s rage over injustice; the pain of loss; her acquaintance with despair; but also, her experience of love and wisdom and beauty and truth. We saw the interplay, the mysterious dance between the dueling masculine and feminine. She gave birth as we watched and listened, transfixed, the gift of life born out of a mothers pain; the determination to push the baby out of her womb is the determination that pushed her through indescribable inner torment; to create, to repair, to heal – to love.

My little memoir, The Beached White Male, was my attempt to unpack, unburden myself from a tribal narrative that no longer could be sustained. I identified the baggage I needed to unload; to discard. The creeds of narrow Evangelicalism and Right-Wing politics and stunted conservatism and detached Americanism lost their grip; they failed to deliver on their promise. But it left me with a major question: if not that, then what?

What is “it”?

It’s not the search for something to replace a discarded narrative with one more narrative. It’s the realization that all narratives are driven by something more; more profound, more comprehensive, more inclusive; that “it” blows open the categories; dismantles the tidy systematic analyses; the statistics, the resolution of contradiction and conflicting explanations. That “it” is illusive, but when it shows up, “it” knocks you over.

As it did when Piper stood up to speak.

Piper lives in the moment. She is present. Through two screenings of Same God, she lived for three hours in the company of her soul sister, Larycia Hawkins (whom she has yet to meet). It was a virtual connection, but real just the same. Laryicia’s journey from a little Baptist church in Oklahoma where her pastor grandfather and grandmother taught her to love Jesus. Grandpa dunked her as a little girl, dressed in white, in the church baptistry as family and friends affirmed her testimony to live for him (Him). A precocious and exceptionally bright little girl, she progressed through de-segregated schools, winning acceptance at Rice University, where she was embraced by an earnest collection of Christians who were part of a Campus Crusade for Christ club on campus. There, she was introduced to American evangelicalism. Piper, too, as a student at UC. Berkeley knew those evangelistic crusaders, an African American woman embraced by a white world of eager, wide-eyed Bible believing proselytizers.

Larycia’s acceptance and then ultimate expulsion from that patriarchal world of white evangelicalism mirrored Piper’s. Each unfolding stage of Larycia’s journey became an indicator that she would never be fully accepted on the basis of merit because of the color of her skin. Each descending step triggered something primal in Piper as she watched. She was riveted to the screen, mystically connected to Larycia’s emotional and physical responses as she pursued a resolute commitment to “embodied solidarity.” It was a new phrase in Piper’s rich vocabulary, but “embodied solidarity” encapsulated Piper’s whole life. It’s the way she’s always lived; and like Larycia, it came with a heavy cost.

So, when Piper stepped up to the microphone, just coming off a second viewing of the film, she rolled down the runway, gaining speed, and took flight. It was a stream-of-consciousness, epic journey through Piper’s heart and mind; a soul trek; her spirit soared. She took us to the Big Bang and the beginning of time, science and metaphysics from her undergraduate studies and Bible readings; the miracle of conception and child-birth and the power of womanhood, the clash between the forces of evil and the potency of the good. The inspiration of beauty and the bond of human connection; the value of personhood and the distractions of power, wealth and pride. Her little girl spoke with innocence and wonder; her grown up self reflected on the pain of loss; the trauma and anguish when her children were torn away in her prime as a young mother; succumbing to mind-numbing addictions and the dank gutter of despair.

But then in the company of a single caring friend, she found hope.

Her treatise was full of juxtapositions; the yin and the yang dueling for the win, competing for loyalty and soul control. The clash of generations; the youthful aspiration for change and fairness and love and justice combating adult denials and reserve, guardedness and prejudice and privilege; the clash of political extremes, the us and the them, the in and the out, the win and the lose. The haves and the have-nots.

It was also the tale of two categories of men.

There is “Donald Fucking Trump:” the pompous, unprincipled, quintessential angry white man, demanding sex, excoriating the other with invectives and unbridled insults, casting aspersion on his political opponents, anyone who would thwart his self-serving agenda. He grants permission to the bigot, the racist, the homophobe, the sexist, the jingoist, Islamophobe to say whatever the hell he wants, eradicating any semblance of decency and mutuality and respect. Piper declared: support for this version of male-dominance - while ubiquitous - is despicable: a sign of a dense, thick national malaise.

“Shine the light!,” she cried. “Expose the truth!”

Contrast her father, Ron Dellums, who learned manhood from the incomparable Nelson Mandela. She described both her father and the unlikely President of South Africa with a kind of solemn reverence. Their lives were filled with consistent, consecutive moments of giving. They stood up for the marginalized and oppressed. They pursued justice and equality, treating all as those who possessed inestimable worth. They fought against systems of exploitation and oppression. They valued education; the power of knowledge and learning. They lifted up teachers and professors and mentors and care-givers; health and social workers; community programs that elevate and clean up and bring people together in an unstoppable celebration of life. Both men knew pain and loss; opposition from those who would misunderstand, misrepresent and distort who they really are and what they represent.

As her father aged, Piper cared for his disintegrating body with loving care. She charged us to do the same for the man and the woman who gave us the gift of life.

Her talk was a kick-ass motivation to block out the distractions, especially the vacuous political arena that clamors for our time and attention and over which we have little control. Instead, we must focus on our calling to love. To care. To give. To listen. To embrace. To heal. To provide.

Larycia emerged from her traumatic encounter with adversarial power carrying the burden of suffering and pain; but she is now in a place to inspire and to give on a new level; liberated from the constraints of those who would stifle her cause.

Piper is there, too. Her unbridled talk brought us all to that place. The Beached White Male has been searching for “it.”

That night, in the Electric Lodge Theater in Venice, California, surrounded by members of the Garifuna tribe, fresh off the screening of Same God, guided by a passion-filled Piper Dellums –

I was/we were in the presence of “it.”

-KENNETH KEMP ORANGE COUNTY

AUTHOR, PRODUCER, DIRECTOR, PASTOR