Ezra's Proust Questionnaire
It's an inditement (and maybe an indictment).
“I don't write out of what I know; I write out of what I wonder. I think most artists create art in order to explore, not to give the answers. Poetry and art are not about answers to me; they are about questions.” – Lucille Clifton
“These authors began their lives as insiders, but had become familiar enough with the world beyond to develop the desire not only to write about their own life experiences for a broader audience but also to convey ethnographic details about the peasant milieu of their childhood.”– Deborah Reed-Danahay
Hi, I’m Ezra. Thanks for pulling up.
Who wants to read longform on a weekday when the weekends are as short as a paycheck? Maybe I’m spitting in the wind. Or maybe you see what I see–a complicated world, constantly changing. Sometimes the changes add a dash of convenience and a dose of comfort to our lives. Many times, the changes are the reason we seek more convenience and comfort in the first place. What’s the deal? How do we deal?
The contradictions are many. But I don’t think you’re here just for me to point them out. Many great writers are already doing that work. In writing these stories, I hope to better understand myself in the context of culture, society, and history. In reading these stories, I hope you can do the same. Here, I’ll post reviews (books, tv, film, art), interviews, revelations, and insights. I’ll share my favorite things—what I’m reading, cooking, watching, and listening to. My photography and music. My travels. My challenges.
My intention here is to interrogate myself with such clarity that reading this letter is like looking in a mirror. Maybe we grow alongside one another. You, reader. Me, writer. This newsletter isn’t about all the ways society has failed us but how we save ourselves when society fails.
Indited - The Proust Questionnaire
My first introduction to the Proust Questionnaire came from Substack via Books Are Pop Culture’s Akili Nzuri and again from Patreon via his co-host Reggie Bailey. Reggie told me about its history, how Marcel Proust believed the answers could reveal the true nature of a person.
Indite is related to its homophone indict, both deriving from the Latin indicere – “to make known formally.”
I thought the questionnaire an appropriate vehicle to introduce myself and my newsletter, Ezra Indited. I encourage you to do one yourself as I was encouraged by Reggie, even if you never plan to publish. I took some questions from The Guardian (Colson Whitehead) and Vanity Fair.
My earliest reading memory
Br’er Rabbit and The Tar Baby. I was probably 4 when I first read this at Clayton Head Start. Interesting history, to say the least. About 10 years later, I returned to Br’er Rabbit and Clayton as a volunteer reader. In The Tar Baby, A Global History, Berkeley professor Brian Wagner views the story as "a collective work in political philosophy.” He thinks we should identify with the rabbit, not the fox. I wonder how the stories I’ve told myself and others would change had I been taught this book with a little more hop – that is, if I had been more keen to the virtues of the trickster.
My favorite book growing up
Probably something from the Goosebumps or Animorphs series.
The book that changed me as a teenager
The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne stands out. I don’t remember liking it, but I remember getting into the weeds with the symbolism. I guess you could say I’ve been fascinated with insider-outsider dynamics for a long time.
The writer who changed my mind
Tia Williams. I don’t quite remember why I picked up Seven Days in June, but Tia showed me that romance novels can be quite sublime, actually.
The book that made me want to be a writer
Is there ever really one? As a child, I’d say James and the Giant Peach. It sparked my imagination so that I eventually wrote my own fruit-forward fiction. It was a short story about an orange who led the produce on a supermarket revolt and escape. Spoiler alert: The citrus does not survive. Neither does the manuscript. As an adult reader, I couldn’t shake Between the World and Me nor could I neglect what it awakened in me. As an adult writer, Invisible Man.
The author I came back to
Toni Morrison. I was one of two or three black students in my “Accelerated” English class. In this setting I used The Bluest Eye to interrogate my own desires. (Double entendre, don’t ask me how.) I came back to Morrison and others with my own set of eyes. Brown, with a clearer view of self and society. Maybe at some point I’ll write the essay, “English Class: An American Crime Scene.”
The book I reread
I’m polyamorous. I can’t choose just one. Here are a few: Frankenstein. Their Eyes Were Watching God. The Evidence of Things Not Seen.
The book I could never read again
Not sure, but it’s probably written by Napoleon Hill.
The book I discovered later in life
Later is relative. And I feel so far behind as a reader. Let’s see…I hadn’t heard of Nella Larsen’s Passing until a few years ago. And that’s a damn shame. Can I say my later is my early 30s?
The book I am currently reading
Still poly. The World Does Not Require You. How to Write an Autobiographical Novel. Black Women Writers at Work. The Invisible Man.
My comfort read
Finna. I know those folks, those Nates.
Who is your hero of fiction?
Off the cuff, Janie Mae Crawford.
Who are your favorite writers?
This ain’t no ranking. Just throwing out some names of those who’ve helped me see. They’ve written fiction, non-fiction, poetry, screenplay, and songs–Deesha Philyaw, Jesmyn Ward, Edward P. Jones, Percival Everett(!); Imani Perry, Hanif Abdurraqib, Jamaica Kincaid, Sylvia Wynter, Assata Shakur(!); Boots Riley; Solmaz Sharif, Phillip B. Williams, Roberta Flack, Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones.
Dead writers: Du Bois(!). The Jimmys – James Baldwin and James Alan McPherson. Toni. Richard. Ralph. hooks. Zora. Langston. June Jordan. Toni Cade Bambara. Claude McKay. Galeano. Mary Shelley. Ann Petry. Nellie Bly. Marx. Fanon. Walter Rodney. Henry Miller. Simone Weil. Leroi Jones/Amiri Baraka. Prince. Marvin Gaye. Donny Hathaway.
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Maybe this is a hot take, but I’m not sure if perfect happiness exists. In the event that it does exist, I think it’s a byproduct of the pursuit of a worthy ideal. It’s not the car, the keys, or the gas. It’s the exhaust.
What is your greatest fear?
I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid of not trying.
What is your greatest extravagance?
It’s gotta be buying new books when my TBR is as long as a CVS receipt.
What is your current state of mind?
Peace and creativity.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Being nice. What the fuck does that even mean? I get kind. But nice seems to really mean acceptable, respectable even. Jesus wasn’t nice. *in my old church mother voice*
On what occasion do you lie?
I don’t lie much, but if I do, it’s usually to protect someone else. I don’t think that makes me heroic in any way. Sometimes I’m too much of a caretaker. I don’t usually lie for myself, mostly because I don’t think you (or anybody) can beat me. More importantly, I am willing to take an ass whooping and stand on whatever I say or believe.
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
That’s laundering! (See: “Laundering Black Rage” by Too Black)
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
I’ve gotten back up, each time.
What is your most treasured possession?
A print of Allen Iverson in a cranberry frame. It’s the last thing my brother gave me before he died.
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
The unwillingness (or inability) to see the self beneath the mask.
What do you most value in your friends?
Acceptance of self and others.
Which historical figure do you most identify with?
I don’t know that I’ve constructed my identity in that way.
Who are your heroes in real life?
My parents. My dead brother. My friends.
What is your greatest regret?
Inasmuch as I live with any regret at all, it is obvious to me that when I honor my intuition and instinct, I’m gonna be good. Regardless of the so-called outcome.
How would you like to die?
I hope to have no say in the matter. I just pray that my parents don’t have to bury me. They’ve already done that thing. They don’t need a sequel.
What is your motto?
Write the truth.
Make it fly
Keep it ghetto.
To many, ghetto is an aesthetic or a slur. People laugh at “ghetto” or “ratchet” shit, while the genius may be lost on them. I’m talking about the transmutation of pain, the expression of joy in the midst of suffering. The ghetto reveals the decadence of society, the power and lack of power individuals hold. It’s what resilience looks like. It’s what ambition looks like. It’s what acceptance and rejection look like. It’s the human condition in its rawest, most dialectical form.
If you’ve made it this far, you the real MVP. Thanks for riding with me. See you next time.
Writing in the legacy of Nas & Pusha T. I can't wait until you put the world on notice.
“I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid of not trying.”
🙌🏾👏🏾❤️