“what just is…isn’t always just-ice” – Amanda Gorman

Amanda Gorman stunned us once again. Before an audience of over 99 million people, Gorman read her poem at the SuperBowl pre-show which honored three Americans who have been named Honored Captains of the Superbowl: Los Angeles educator Trimaine Davis, Florida nurse manager Suzie Dorner and Pittsburgh-based James Martin, a Marine veteran who volunteers with the Wounded Warrior Project and who has taken in local kids facing issues at home — for their work during the coronavirus pandemic.

Here is that performance:

Gorman describes herself as a Wordsmith and Change-Maker. At 22, she has recently graduated cum laude from Harvard University with a major in Sociology. She blasted into international fame when, about a month ago, she was selected to read a poem at the inauguration of the 46^th President of the United States, Joe Biden. She was the youngest inaugural poet in U.S. history, and an estimated 34 million people watched her read and “perform” her poem. One could think back to only Maya Angelou for a more singular outstanding moment at an inaugural event.

Here is her inauguration performance:

Gorman was born and raised in Los Angeles by her single mother, Joan Wicks, a 6th-grade English teacher in Watts.. She has two siblings, one a twin sister, Gabrielle, who is an “activist” and filmmaker. There was little television in Gorman’s home, and she enjoyed reading and writing, always encouraged in these activities by her mother. She describes herself as a “weird child”.

She references her speed impediment in media interviews after the inaugural poem, but it was just part of what she has been working to overcome. She is hypersensitive to sound and while she worked for years on her speech challenges, she only succeeded in her college years to overcome them.

Gorman was appointed the first-ever National Youth Poet Laureate by Urban Word – a program that supports Youth Poets Laureate in more than 60 cities, regions and states nationally. Gorman identifies as a Black Catholic who “aspires to be a human rights advocate”. She has 332,000 followers on Facebook, 1.5 million on Twitter, and 21.5 thousand on just one of her Instagram accounts.

She will debut her new children’s book, “Change Sings”, and a poetry collection “The Hill We Climb”, being released by Penguin Random House this September.

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In an interview with Michelle Obama, for Time Magazine, Gorman said “I would say anyone who finds themselves suddenly visible and suddenly famous, think about the big picture. Especially for girls of color, we’re treated as lightning or gold in the pan—we’re not treated as things that are going to last. You really have to crown yourself with the belief that what I’m about and what I’m here for is way beyond this moment. I’m learning that I am not lightning that strikes once. I am the hurricane that comes every single year, and you can expect to see me again soon.

Recently, Gorman was signed by IMG Models and its parent company WME for representation in fashion, beauty, and talent endorsements.

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The Inaugural Poem:

When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade.
We’ve braved the belly of the beast,
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace,
and the norms and notions
of what just is
isn’t always just-ice.
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it.
Somehow we do it.
Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn’t broken,
but simply unfinished.
We the successors of a country and a time
where a skinny Black girl
descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
can dream of becoming president
only to find herself reciting for one.
And yes we are far from polished.
Far from pristine.
But that doesn’t mean we are
striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge a union with purpose,
to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and
conditions of man.
And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us,
but what stands before us.
We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,
we must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms
so we can reach out our arms
to one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true,
that even as we grieved, we grew,
that even as we hurt, we hoped,
that even as we tired, we tried,
that we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
Not because we will never again know defeat,
but because we will never again sow division.
Scripture tells us to envision
that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree
and no one shall make them afraid.
If we’re to live up to our own time,
then victory won’t lie in the blade.
But in all the bridges we’ve made,
that is the promise to glade,
the hill we climb.
If only we dare.
It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit,
it’s the past we step into
and how we repair it.
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation
rather than share it.
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
And this effort very nearly succeeded.
But while democracy can be periodically delayed,
it can never be permanently defeated.
In this truth,
in this faith we trust.
For while we have our eyes on the future,
history has its eyes on us.
This is the era of just redemption
we feared at its inception.
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs
of such a terrifying hour
but within it we found the power
to author a new chapter.
To offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
So while once we asked,
how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?
Now we assert,
How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was,
but move to what shall be.
A country that is bruised but whole,
benevolent but bold,
fierce and free.
We will not be turned around
or interrupted by intimidation,
because we know our inaction and inertia
will be the inheritance of the next generation.
Our blunders become their burdens.
But one thing is certain,
If we merge mercy with might,
and might with right,
then love becomes our legacy,
and change our children’s birthright.
So let us leave behind a country
better than the one we were left with.
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,
we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.
We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west.
We will rise from the windswept northeast,
where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states.
We will rise from the sunbaked south.
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover.
And every known nook of our nation and
every corner called our country,
our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,
battered and beautiful.
When day comes we step out of the shade,
aflame and unafraid,
the new dawn blooms as we free it.
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.