The Toastmasters Epitaph

Toastmasters Mission Statement

We, the Toastmasters of North Carolina’s Death Row: Strive to be better than the vitriol that has defined our societal displacement.  Our collective voice will exude the elocution of various races, religions, and regions – harmoniously refusing to be impeded by the walls of incarceration.

Written by:

Leroy E. Mann

The Toastmasters Epitaph

Hotep,

I was assigned the role of Toastmaster when the above words came to me.  I recall feeling the need to be a proper host/mc to such a monumental gathering.

According to the protocol/ role instruction handout, the Toastmaster is obligated to begin each meeting with the recitation of the group mission statement therefore, if someone has to ask, ‘why does North Carolina’s death row have a Toastmasters group in the first place?'  Our mission statement should more than resolve their skepticism.

What is a Toastmaster?

I personally had no clue until January of 2017.  In the 6 months since our first session, I have grown confident in the public speaking and speech writing of some of the men who share in this plight of facing the proverbial gallows, years prior to meeting the noose that is designed to relieve you of all awareness.

My personal journey with elocution has involved 7-10 minute prepared speeches of various topics: LAST MEAL (Ice breaker speech) DELIVERING THE DEATH BLOW (Statistical speech), JOIN THE RIDE (After dinner speech).

Each week possesses a different vibe from the last.  The roles of President, Toastmaster, Ah-Counter, Grammarian, Timer, General Evaluator, Topic Master and two speakers (prepared speeches), are selected through a lottery system created by the group’s Sergeant-At-Arms (holla if ya hear me, Ms. Barker).  These roles are interchangeable from week-to-week, which means no meeting  is predictable.

Our sessions grow in suspense when the Topic Master presents a particular topic, then randomly chooses three impromptu speakers to discuss the topic for the duration of 2-3 minutes.  Speaking ‘off the cuff’ is a great exercise for public speaking.  Throughout the process, you have the Grammarian analyzing the diction of each speaker, as well as, noting the usage of the word of the day (Grammarian’s selection).

At the same time, the Ah-Counter is tallying the number of times a speaker may use crutch-fillers such as, ‘um,’ ‘ah,’ ‘like,’ and ‘so.’ The Ah-Counter is also required to note the ever-dreaded, ‘pregnant pause’ (the extended space between a speaker’s words due to uncertainty).  This is progress beyond belief; death row prisoners finding their voice through the art of public speaking.  It gives me every reason to look forward to next semester.

Unfortunately, ‘next semester’ may not happen.  The unit manager has made it his personal mission to silence the voices of Toastmasters, and conclude other programs made available to death row prisoners for the past three years.  This unit manager seems to believe that no good can come from death row prisoners improving their public speaking skills.

A great public speaker by the name of Frederick Douglas once said: “If there is no struggle, there is no progress.  Those who profess to favor freedom and yet deprecate agitation are people who want crops without plowing up the ground.  The want rain without thunder and lightening.”

In the past, we have been poorly represented when the television cameras, and journalist’s recorders have provided a platform that can potentially lessen the proximity between redeemable beings and a misinformed free society.  Some of us choose to be better than the mistakes that define our past for this reason, Toastmasters is a necessity.

The unit manager spews words that may kill a productive program, but from a Toastmaster’s standpoint: my words are worth dying for, ya heard?

Always 100,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2017 by Leroy Elwood Mann

True Nature

Spoken word commentary on Colson Whitehead’s, the Underground Railroad, by Leroy E. Mann

We The People!!

In order to form a more ‘civilized’ union

Will remove the noose from our necks,

And take the necessary steps toward our hopes.

No longer will our place in this sinister space

Be tethered to the ends of white supremacy’s ropes.

Tell me,

Why is it that slaves and slave masters can share the

Same heaven, in death?

Yet our earthly existence is filled with hate, fear,

And lust of the opposite shade…

The old declaration must fade, because

We the People are not the common defense,

We are defenseless against a white man’s

Licentious advances.

Even with the documents of manumission

Our general welfare ‘hangs’ on the discretion,

Or brutal urges of the witless patroller.

Prosperity? … Only if we agree

To be shipped and fixed… As if

We don’t have the scruples to control over sexual nature.

The nature that knows the sting

But never the softness of cotton…

The nature that provides breast milk

When the Missus has none to provide…

That same nature that sees high – Praying to be

More than three fifths, while the massa’s view

Is essentially killing you, and

Eventually making you his equal.

We the People

Anticipate evolution not the sequel

Of fighting amongst ourselves to impress our oppressors.

We must take off the blinders and face the truth

Of the sexual, racial and economical abuse

That will plague our future generations,

Who will kill for sneakers.

Drowning out their history of foreign tongues

By blasting Alpine speakers

I, would rather be defeated and die,

Than act against my own Nature.

Think of your words…

Are they no more than a parlor trick?

Do they possess substance founded on your principles?

Or, are they simply a blind recitation

Of the next man’s declaration?

We the People

MannofStat

Copyright © 2017 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Cheating the Heart

Hotep,

The progression of our creative writing class has become a target of authoritarians, aligning to discredit any resemblance of redeemable qualities concerning the death row prisoners.

Our class attendance has dwindled since the recent suspensions of the volunteers.  A setting that once held 20-plus pupils is no more than a handful of dedicated writers’ a skeleton crew of a movement so loud that the prison administration felt the urgency to muffle our creative sound.

In a way, cheating the free world.  Blocking the exposure to heartfelt expressions, which casts clear reflections of compassion.  On 8/8/17, our class (9 pupils) was allotted twenty minutes to create an expression from the following prompt:  Betrayed, lilac-scented soap, a plane ticket.

It all begins with a haiku.

-----------------------------------

A plane ticket screams

Lilac-scented soap reminds

Betrayed by true love

I felt betrayed when I opened the glove box.  Her scent was always captivating.  The car reeked of her presence.  Lilac-scented soap was her hygienic calling car, since high school.  But, when I made a surprise visit to her job yesterday, something was very different about her.

The excitement of seeing me was no longer there.  Her reaction to my unexpected showing was one of disappointment; almost as if she was expecting to see someone else.

I kissed her on the cheek, and she nearly pushed me away.  I had to know what was going on with her.  Had our relationship run its course?  What had I done wrong?  Was she seeing another man?

I left her job without incident.  I went to her car, using the spare key.  I opened the door.  I sat in the driver’s seat as if sitting there would tell me all that I needed to know, but it didn’t.

My initial instinct led me to the console.  I found nothing that would make me suspicious, just some spare change, chewing gum and a pair of Afrocentric earrings that I had yet to see in her earlobes.

The next move was toward the glove box.  As soon as I opened it a different scent took over the space.  It was a feminine scent, unfamiliar to my sense of smell.  A scent much different than the one I had come to know over the last twelve years.

I pulled out a smart phone that made me feel like a fool.  A woman’s scarf was next, then, a plane ticket to Jamaica.  I sat there, stunned, having no idea what I would do next.

Be Easy,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2017 by Leroy Elwood Mann