Speakeasy and Carry a Big Mic

Poetry meets performance at DC's open mic nights.

By Angie Grabski

The poets are black, white, male, female, gay, and straight. They've got afros and shaved heads and wear muu-muus and Diesel jeans. They speak of pain, politics, race, gender, fear, and humanity. And people in the audience listen and nod -- maybe raise a fist or two or click their fingers in honor of poets past, but mostly, they listen and feel the connection between artist and observer.

At open mic nights, poetry meets performance. Despite its cubicals, schmoozers, and suits, this city's got soul. Here's where I found it:

Check 1, 2. Check 1, 2. How's the mic sound to you? Because that's all that matters, according to host Matthew Payne, as open mic night begins at Bar Nun. This Monday night event, sponsored by the Movement, fills up slowly until the place is packed. The crowd is well-dressed, armed with cell-phones and foo-foo drinks. If you don't get there early, you miss out on the ottomans, cheetah-print chairs, and the folding chairs up front for the never-too-early birds. But then again, if you're sitting, be prepared to stare at the backs of people's heads, as there aren't enough seats for everybody.

Sitting in the narrow candlelit space surrounded by the aroma of incense, I feel like I'm in an ad for Urban Outfitters. It's funky, sophisticated, and city chic. Payne asks the audience, "What's on your minds? Is it black love?" The audience coos in agreement. The talent ranges from polished poets to veritable stage virgins.

Deep in the ravines of Bohemian Caverns lies a mellow haven for poets and poetry lovers. Hostess Dehejia sets the mood; feature acts keep you entertained; and the open mic readers leave you relaxed and even inspired. It's like a three-hour bubble bath followed by a massage.

Because of the feature acts, you're guaranteed a higher quality of talent. Local poet Lamar Hill makes an appearance. He leaves the audience hanging when he stops abruptly after his third piece, ending with the lines, "First time you sat on my face, I felt like I was being baptized… If you want to hear the rest of that poem, buy my CD." Vocalists Raheem and W. Ellington, with their smooth voices and beatific songs, have the crowd grooving. No virgins to the mic tonight, but they're always welcome.

Mix a bunch of exhibitionists and attention-starved stage virgins with competition-winning poets and you get a hit-or-miss night. Native Tongues get you in the groove with slam competition winners and amazing orators, and then you get sucked back out again by, for example, the guy who keeps repeating, "Y'all feel me? Y'all feel me?"

Hosted by Joe Gorham and Lucky, this is not where to wet your toes as a poet. You won't be coddled. But then again, if you want to jump in feet first, this could be the place. Between the uncomfortable glances and throat clearing, I've seen some great performances here.

Spend enough time hanging around spoken-word nights in DC, and you start to wonder: Where are the women? The answer: mothertongue. Since October 1998, the Black Cat has been the home of this women-centric open mic night. It's not easy to get up on stage and express yourself, especially when your poem is about something as personal as heartbreak, abuse, or prejudice, as so many are here. On the flipside, you'll hear a lot of poems about fisting, awakening sexuality, and bodily fluids by the women of mothertongue.

I grab a stool and become part of a community. There are a lot of stage virgins because it's such a supportive atmosphere, with lots of clapping, yells, and screeches of agreement. mothertongue's mission is to provide a safe and caring environment for women to voice themselves, no matter what they have to say (as long as it's not aggressive or hurtful to those in attendance). All proceeds benefit DC organizations that improve the lives of women and girls.

When the host asks the DJ to cut off the music the opening act is trying (let me stress 'trying') to play to, I get a little nervous about what's to come. But hostess Raquel has been around long enough to know she can make or break the vibe. Hosts really can make the difference. Their voices speak first after a great or awkward performance ends. And Raquel does it with grace. Her quote of the week is, "Pain does not decompose when you bury it," borrowed from a fellow poet.

Mango's is not a Bud Lite kind of bar; it's cosmos and Courvoisier. The talent includes published poets and polished acts. The feature act tonight: Tat and his alter ego, I.B. Black. The subjects: black pride and beautiful women.

Going to the Kaffa House open mic was, for me, sort of like being at a family party, except it wasn't my family. Everybody there seemed to know one another, kids zipping around the room. I arrived late and got stuck on the couch in the back, which offers only a partial view of performers via a mirror.

Though it's different and possesses a more raw, casual vibe than the jazzy, candlelit bars, Kaffa still features some stunning performances. A very large Howard basketball player delivered an amazing piece on black history's importance. You don't need a goatee and sunken eyes to be a poet. Yet you'll also catch a few less-than-stunning performances here. But that's the beauty of the DC spoken-word scene.

It takes a special person to not only put a human experience into words, but to make you feel it deep inside, even if it's not your own experience. It takes a poet. Though there were few people at Teaism the first night I visited the open mic/slam organized by the DC Slam Team, it was still a treat. Webmistress and host Nicki Miller doesn't know where the crowds that once packed the downstairs of this Penn Quarter jewel have gone, but dammit, she wants them back!

Tonight's feature is Stazja McFayden, and in the words of a new acquaintance at the bar (an aspiring love poet), "She's a trip!" From boogers to Otis Redding to death and back again, the few who took to the stage more than made up for the lack of a crowd.

There are many more open mic poetry nights around DC, so don't limit yourself to these listings. Check out the Iota Club schedule, where they have an open mic poetry night once a month. The Poet's Den's Abena Disroe hosts one at the Bitumani Club on Thursdays. And the DCAC hosts spoken-word nights once a month.

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Angie Grabski writes stuff. Sometimes it's good. She writes purely for the creativity of it…at least, that's what she tells her mother. In truth, nobody would pay her for this sort of thing, or so she says.

Illustration credit: Cynthia Fowler