famous american writer james baldwinwho died in December 1987 and lived almost all of his life in France, wrote in an important Paris newspaper a month before his death:
“I’m black, I’m also gay and I don’t have a pretty face. I’m very short and I have a small body; I’ve been very poor almost my whole life and I don’t speak French very well , the country I live in. And apart from the 63 years I’ve spent, I’ve had that mysterious disease called cancer in my body, more precisely in my stomach. I can do something to help my black brothers or my white brothers or the condition of women or the poor or men in general, I know I can help all of them in some way.
And he ended his prodigious journalistic note, published in an important Parisian newspaper, thus:
“How much can a young, healthy, fair-skinned writer do for humanity, who can easily understand that his fellow beings are beings who suffer, love, live…!”
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entering the heroic and eccentric personality of james baldwin, Once a French journalist asked him:
– Why does a writer like you, who in almost all journalistic and literary works mentioned the pain of his black American brothers in his native country and expressed his love for his homeland, the United States of America, live in France? ,
Staring at the reporter, the author replied to him with a smile full of sad sadness:
“I was a close friend of the black leader and Nobel Peace Prize winner Martin Luther King, A true saint. I was with him the day a fatal bullet ended his existence. I understood that they killed him for his courage, for his devotion, for his purity. That is to say, his virtues and his faults were not forgiven. And since Luther King was like my brother and America was like my home, I thought: If my brother is murdered in my home, it’s not my home anymore. And so I settled in Paris.”
work of james baldwin
James Baldwin published 15 books grandson of slaves, and France awarded him the Legion of Honor, no less. But more important is to convey that he fought against those who only love to hate, the spiritually blind who despite having perfect sight cannot see anything.
He recalled his childhood in the faraway state of Georgia, where I had the opportunity to visit a few years ago. I remember spending 3 or 4 days in Atlanta, the capital of that state, a picturesque city full of parks. There Baldwin saw some white judges sentence men of color to death with smiles on their lips.
And he also remembered that when he was only 12 years old, he saw how three white boys of 16 or 17 years old beat up a young black boy for no reason. Baldwin defends his black brother, Of course, he ended up in a hospital, but with the satisfaction of having fulfilled his duty. Because dignity is such a noble gesture that always compensates for the loss caused by it.
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With the death of black writer James Baldwin in 1987, a man who lived up to the ideals of the Blacks disappeared: the brotherhood of man with his brother man.
And he, who thought only of fighting for justice, for understanding and who was born in absolute material poverty, without any desire, achieved a decent material condition, fame and intellectual prestige.
His great career gave birth to this aphorism in me:
“Glory usually haunts those who do not seek it.”