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Thursday, May 29, 2025

Award-winning author Dr Brenda Flanagan

Flying T&T’s flag around the world

by

KRISTY RAMNARINE
369 days ago
20240526

KRISTY RAM­NAR­INE

Kristy.ram­nar­ine@cnc3.co.tt

 

Award-win­ning au­thor Dr Bren­da Flana­gan, for­mer­ly Bren­da Phillips, ar­rived in the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca with just US$10 in her pock­et in 1967.

She left Trinidad with the in­ten­tion of be­com­ing a writer.

Now with four books un­der her belt and her fifth book, about Amer­i­can singer-song­writer and pi­anist Ni­na Si­mone, near­ing com­ple­tion, Dr Flana­gan con­tin­ues to serve as a Cul­tur­al Am­bas­sador for the Unit­ed States De­part­ment of State. In that role, she has vis­it­ed Sau­di Ara­bia, Tajik­istan, Kuwait, Libya, Mo­roc­co, Tunisia, Kaza­khstan, Turk­menistan, Chad, Pana­ma, and In­dia.

But her jour­ney be­gan in Trinidad in 1949, when she be­came the 12th of 14 chil­dren and had de­ceased Ja­maat al Mus­limeen’s leader Imam Yasin Abu Bakr (Lennox Phillips) as an old­er broth­er.

“I was born in Rich­plain, Diego Mar­tin. I al­ways won­dered about the name, as it was nei­ther rich nor plain,” she re­called as we spoke dur­ing her re­cent vis­it to Trinidad.

“I went to the Diego Mar­tin El­e­men­tary School. I used to walk to school all the way from Rich­plain to Diego Mar­tin. Some­times we would have to walk back home for lunch and then walk to school again.

“My moth­er used to wor­ry about me be­cause we didn’t have a lot of cars on the road, but some, and my moth­er was al­ways wor­ried that I would get knocked down on Diego Mar­tin Main Road be­cause my head was al­ways in a book.”

With her Tri­ni ac­cent in­tact, Dr Flana­gan con­tin­ued to re­lay her sto­ry. Af­ter her pri­ma­ry school­ing, Dr Flana­gan at­tend­ed Al­pha Acad­e­my, a pri­vate school run by Owen Mer­ritt. Back then, she al­ready knew writ­ing was her call­ing.

“I was afraid to tell any­body. Back then, we were be­ing ed­u­cat­ed un­der the British sys­tem, and I didn’t re­al­ly know any­thing about Trinida­di­an writ­ers,” she said.

“There were, but in my ed­u­ca­tion, I was not be­ing taught about those writ­ers. I want­ed to be a writer be­cause I want­ed to see and hear lo­cal char­ac­ters in books. I des­per­ate­ly want­ed to read sto­ries about peo­ple who looked like me.

“Al­so, the ex­pec­ta­tion for me was that I would be­come a seam­stress or some­thing that girls back then would do.”

Dr Flana­gan start­ed writ­ing po­et­ry at the age of ten; how­ev­er, at the age of 14, she had to drop out of school be­cause her fam­i­ly could not con­tin­ue to pay the school fees.

“I had tak­en a job at a peas can­nery on Wright­son Road where on­ly women worked,” she said.

“I was the youngest at the fac­to­ry. I re­mem­ber these women would talk to each oth­er, and I would go home and write down what I heard them say. I didn’t know what their re­al lives were be­hind the fac­to­ry, so I would make up sto­ries about them.

“I re­call ac­com­pa­ny­ing my broth­er Lennox (Yasin) to the air­port to pick up his wife Elaine Ahye Phillips. Mr Mer­ritt was there, wait­ing on Dr Er­ic Williams. He said, ‘What are you do­ing?’ I said I’m work­ing at this fac­to­ry, and he said ‘no’. He knew that I was good at Eng­lish, and it so hap­pened that the young man who was the re­porter at The Na­tion was about to leave to go to the Unit­ed States. Mr Mer­ritt said, ‘Come in next Mon­day, and I will hire you.’”

For two years, Dr Flana­gan worked as a trainee re­porter at The Na­tion, the news­pa­per of the then-rul­ing Peo­ple’s Na­tion­al Move­ment.

“I had a won­der­ful time. I re­call meet­ing up with vet­er­an jour­nal­ist John Babb at events be­cause The Na­tion was the gov­ern­ment pa­per and we used to get in­vit­ed to all the im­por­tant func­tions,” she added.

Dr Flana­gan held on to her dream of be­com­ing a writer and head­ed to the Unit­ed States to fur­ther her ed­u­ca­tion.

“I wrote to Dr Williams in 1967, who was tech­ni­cal­ly our boss,” she said.

I knew he taught at Howard Uni­ver­si­ty. I said to him that I want­ed to go to school in Amer­i­ca, and he said, ‘No, Bren­da, do not go, you have no idea what goes on in that coun­try.’

““I knew some­thing about the ways in which black peo­ple were be­ing treat­ed, but of course, we weren’t be­ing giv­en the full sto­ry. He said he couldn’t write me a rec­om­men­da­tion to go to Amer­i­ca. He want­ed me to stay and be­come in­volved in pol­i­tics, but I said, Dr Williams, I am go­ing.”

With her earn­ings from the fac­to­ry and sav­ings from a sou sou, Dr Flana­gan was suc­cess­ful in ac­quir­ing a US Visa.

With a US so­cial work­er she met in Trinidad as her on­ly con­tact, she land­ed at JFK Air­port in June 1967.

“I thought that ten Amer­i­can dol­lars was a lot of mon­ey. I broked my ten dol­lars to call the so­cial work­er who al­lowed me to stay with her,” she said.

“On Sun­day, I got the New York Times to go through the job sec­tion, and my eyes were drawn to an agency in Harlem. On Mon­day, I vis­it­ed the agency, where the woman told me they were now start­ing to hire black mod­els, and I said ab­solute­ly not be­cause in Trinidad back then, a mod­el was syn­ony­mous with a ‘la­dy of the night.’”

Dr Flana­gan man­aged to se­cure a job as a do­mes­tic work­er for Amer­i­can singer-song­writer and pi­anist Ni­na Si­mone, who was in Trinidad a few weeks be­fore.

“I didn’t get any free tick­ets, and I was un­able to buy any,” re­called Dr Flana­gan.

“The woman from the agency said Ni­na has a daugh­ter and want­ed some­one to work with her. I was not star-struck be­cause I didn’t know how big she was at the time. They sent me down to RCA Vic­tor Stu­dios in New York to meet Ni­na who was as­tound­ed and in­censed that I did not at­tend her con­cert.

“The first per­son I ac­tu­al­ly told that I want­ed to be a writer was Ni­na Si­mone. She was won­der­ful to me. She was a very strange per­son, but I didn’t know what her at­ti­tude was at­trib­uted to un­til years lat­er, when I start­ed find­ing out about racism in the Unit­ed States and how that could de­stroy you.”

Dr Flana­gan re­called meet­ing Mal­colm X’s wife, Bet­ty Shabazz, while liv­ing with Si­mone.

“Af­ter Mal­colm X was killed, Ni­na found a place for Bet­ty to live with her chil­dren,” she said.

“Bet­ty had all these lit­tle girls. She knew I could have combed their hair, so I used to go when­ev­er I could to comb their hair in corn­rows and walk them to school. Bet­ty kept ask­ing me back then to work with her on Mal­colm X’s pa­per, but even then I didn’t re­alise how im­por­tant a per­son Mal­colm X was, and of course here I was turn­ing 20, and I met a guy who Ni­na warned me about be­cause Ni­na checked him out; I didn’t know she was check­ing him out.”

Dr Flana­gan didn’t take Si­mone’s ad­vice and she be­came preg­nant. Moth­er­hood and mar­riage de­flect­ed her plans to study. How­ev­er, she man­aged to achieve a few com­mu­ni­ty col­lege cred­its that she “snuck out to get,” due to her un­sup­port­ive hus­band (now ex).

Af­ter con­vinc­ing the Uni­ver­si­ty of Michi­gan to ac­cept her through the CEW+ Schol­ar­ship Pro­gram (which was es­tab­lished in 1970 to ho­n­our the aca­d­e­m­ic per­for­mance and po­ten­tial of women whose ed­u­ca­tion has been in­ter­rupt­ed), she be­gan un­der­grad­u­ate stud­ies in print jour­nal­ism while she was preg­nant, al­ready with two small chil­dren in 1975.

She grad­u­at­ed with dis­tinc­tion and moved di­rect­ly in­to an MA in TV and Ra­dio, which she com­plet­ed in 1977.

“I de­cid­ed to stay in acad­e­mia to be able to care for my chil­dren and stay home with them dur­ing the sum­mer,” she said.

“I was ac­cept­ed in­to the PhD pro­gramme at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Michi­gan, where I re­searched pes­ti­cides and their ef­fects on small-scale farm­ers.”

Grad­u­at­ing in 1986, she was award­ed a CEW+ fel­low­ship to help fund this re­search for her PhD.

Dr Flana­gan’s books in­clude: You Alone Are Danc­ing; Al­lah in the Is­lands; and In Praise of Is­land Women. Sh al­so co-au­thored Women’s Artis­tic Dis­sent: Re­pelling To­tal­i­tar­i­an­ism in Pre-1989 Czecho­slo­va­kia. She has al­so writ­ten sev­er­al short sto­ries and plays.

“I nev­er thought of be­com­ing a writer for mon­ey; it was al­ways about want­i­ng to be able to tell sto­ries and want­i­ng to share those sto­ries with oth­er peo­ple in the world,” she said.

“I en­cour­age peo­ple to think about that. It is im­por­tant for me to tell young writ­ers to have faith in them­selves and not be de­terred from their path be­cause there will be a lot of peo­ple who will tell you no.”

Hold­ing a copy of Women’s Artis­tic Dis­sent: Re­pelling To­tal­i­tar­i­an­ism in Pre-1989 Czecho­slo­va­kia in her hand, she said, “This book came out in De­cem­ber. It is from one of the most im­por­tant pub­lish­ing hous­es in the Unit­ed States and my col­league and I have not got­ten a cheque as yet, and it’s sell­ing.”

While at­tend­ing school, Dr Flana­gan was the on­ly black per­son in her class­room, though she didn’t re­alise it at the time.

At David­son Col­lege, where she con­tin­ues to teach cre­ative writ­ing, Caribbean and African-Amer­i­can lit­er­a­ture, and lit­er­ary analy­sis, she is the on­ly black per­son in the Eng­lish de­part­ment.

She’s al­so the first black pro­fes­sor to re­ceive the Hunter-Hamil­ton Love of Teach­ing Award, the high­est teach­ing award re­ceived at David­son Col­lege.

In 2009, she re­ceived a lit­er­ary non-fic­tion award from the North Car­oli­na Arts Coun­cil to write a book on singer Ni­na Si­mone, which will be re­leased in 2025. The mem­oir blends Flana­gan’s and Si­mone’s life.


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