In Memory of Diane Di Prima

The prominent Feminist Beat Poet Diane di Prima, as the Poetry Foundation dubs her, died yesterday at the age of 86. To those epithets I’d like to add “Brooklyn born” and “mother of five.” In honor of di Prima, one of the precious few celebrated women poets of that generation and mindset, I’m bringing “In Memory of My First Chapatis” (on page 301, here) to your attention. (Thanks to Andrew Epstein for tweeting out the sad news of di Prima’s death and the happy news of her poem—which was news to me.)

As big-hearted, boisterous, witty, honest, and free as only a great Beat Poem can be, “Chapatis” trumps what could be scorned today as “cultural appropriation” (the use of the vocabulary of the Indian, Mexican, and Japanese kitchens, for instance, by "a second generation American of Italian descent") with a lovely intersectionality that combines those cultures with feminism and class consciousness. In other words, hip is hip, then and now, in all times and places, as long as the heart of the poet is open.

“In Memory of My First Chapatis” sparkles, especially, in its penultimate stanza, which begins, memorably, with this line: “The women of the rest of the world have so much to teach me!” It then continues, charmingly, (both in the senses of grace and bewitchingness):

Them in their saris so cool, kneading chapatis

or tortillas, depending on where, kneeling by their fires

or by their hibachis, or standing by their wood stoves

the women of the rest of the world plait their hair as I do

but they have more patience, …

I would only have you notice the echo of “kneading” and “kneeling,” and the rich and funny buried crosscultural rhyme of “chapatis” and “hibachis.” Lunga vita al ricordo di Diane di Prima!

Photo Credit: "Diane Di Prima B&W" by daa_animator is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0