Nikki-Rosa

In the "Nikki-Rosa", a poem by Nikki Giovanni, the author remembers what it was like to grow up as a black child, and she clearly expresses the feelings that poor, inner-city black citizens would have while growing up. The poem itself is simple with a moderately low diction level, but the imagery and feelings expressed are extremely powerful to its readers. The poem can be enjoyed by everyone, even if a white person will never truly know what it feels like to grow up as a black child.

The poem begins by making "Black" the only distinction between a privileged childhood of many great memories and an impoverished childhood, which the author grew up with. The author clearly states her feelings when she writes, "childhood remembrances are always a drag/if you're Black," and the capitalization of "Black" stresses the deeply engraved importance the simplicity of a skin color can have on one's childhood memories. The poem then goes on to provoke sympathy from white readers and understanding nods from black readers with lines such as, "how good the water felt when you got your bath from one of those/big tubs that folk in chicago barbecue in". The majority of the population probably has no idea what it's like to bathe in an old barbecue barrel because they have never witnessed it, but the imagery of the author still makes the idea understood by all races.

After explaining the experiences as a black child, the author's mood changes to a happier tone. Her only complaint is that white biographers will never understand what it is like to grow up black, and they shouldn't even try. She writes, "and I really hope no white person ever has cause to write about me/because they never understand Black love is Black wealth," and these lines imply that her childhood was actually more enjoyable than one might assume. The childhood of the author with a close and loving family life was probably even more enjoyable than a wealthy child that grew up alone with a nanny, but the happiness of a childhood can only be assumed. For the most part, all childhood memories are happy when looking back to them, and the author expresses this idea when she rejects any sympathy the reader has for her and finally writes, "all the while I was quite happy".

Overall, the poem is meant to be a happy one, and the author doesn't want anyone's sympathy because she doesn't regret any of her childhood memories. The poem may evoke periodic patches of sympathy from wealthy white readers, or even more privileged black ones, but they will never understand what growing up in poverty really feels like. Even though people in society should take it upon themselves to improve the lives of disadvantaged families of any race, they shouldn't worry about feeling sorry for this particular author because all the while her childhood was probably the happiest time of her life.

NIKKI-ROSA

childhood remembrances are always a drag
if you're Black
you always remember things like living in Woodlawn
with no inside toilet
and if you become famous of something
they never talk about how happy you were to have your mother
all to yourself and
how good the water felt when you got your bath from one of those
big tubs that folk in chicago barbecue in
and somehow when you talk about home
it never gets across how much you understood their feelings
as the whole family attended meetings about Hollydale
and even though you remember
your biographers never understand
your father's pain as he sells his stock
and another dream goes
and though you're poor it isn't poverty that
concerns you
and though they fought a lot
it isn't your father's drinking that makes any difference
but only that everybody is together and you
and your sister have happy birthdays and very good christmases
ads I really hope no white person ever has to write about me
because they never understand Black love is Black wealth and they'll
probably talk about my hard childhood and never understand that
all the while I was quite happy.

Please keep in mind that this is only my rough interpretation of the poem. I could be completely wrong, but is that not the beauty of poetry... The freedom of interpretation. This is one of my all-time favorite poems. The language is absolutely gorgeous, and to this day, it can still bring tears to my eyes...