Carta a Miriam Jiménez Román:
From un jabao como tú
Miguel Ángel López Jr.
It’s June 11th, your birthday, and I can imagine myself ending a long subway ride at the Atlantic Station, still wrestling with which ofrenda to bring you, or better said: which would least frustrate you. El biscochito you love pero hecho por “el presentao,” whose bakery you vowed to never patron again, or pick up another pinot? I know this to be your favorite wine though you never drink a drop of my selections. Grateful for my mediocre contribution to your movable feast you politely allow others to imbibe.
Nearly two years ago, my colleagues and I set a virtual table -un convite, a vente tú, a junte- set to memorialize a giant on whose shoulders we stand. Pusimos una mesa que simboliza la familia que elegimos. In the final days of our time with you, Miriam, it was Zaire, Josue, Larry, Ryan, Kwami, Melissa, Yamila, Pablo and the family you chose at your side. Common ethics, curiosity, a commitment to learning and justice made one a friend, even Family to Miri.
I think you saw your legacy in pursuit of justice and in those open to, and imbued with the knowledge that could lead to a more just world.
Dr. Maya Angelou, speaking of the legacy of W.E.B. Dubois, said that Dubois should be remembered for the virtue of courage, “courage is the most important of all the virtues because without courage you cannot practice any of the other virtues consistently.”
Miriam, you displayed enormous courage to teach and to learn. In face of saturating racism and cumbrous sexism, you were unyielding, holding ethics and virtues you believed could make us all better.
It’s 2022. I ride the subway. I’m at Cooper Square. I’m looking out at the sea with Charles in Cabo Rojo. I’m avoiding the bikes and carriages in Park Slope. It feels like you left us yesterday. Your voice is in my mind. Will you critique my ofrenda? What would you edit from this letter?
When we talk about you it is inevitable for us to reflect on your ferociously critical cosmovisión and will, with an impatient reverence. Wandering eyes pondering the time - or times -you told us about ourselves and we can’t shake it from our memories. Like that time Josue drove us to Queens because you’d never eaten a Bandeja Paisa. You entered skeptically and when the steak came seco, overdone, and tough you picked it up and shook it. “Why do we always do this.” Looking up, you waved your hand for the mesero who didn’t know what was about to hit him. “We have to tell them. Si no, como van aprender.” I think your ferociously critical lens was often misunderstood as cynicism. In our time together I’ve come to realize that you are not a cynic, but an idealist.
About food and life, as we do it together, you had a lens that perceived that around the bend of our attention to detail and commitment to listen and study was a more ideal world, not yet realized.
“There is a better version of this”
Speaking to sloppy chefs and truth to power.
“There is a better version of this “
The energy consumed as you held a higher standard for the world was engendered from passion and conviction, not elitism. Only an idealist could relentlessly critique the world as it is with such frequent fervor as you did. We should all aspire to a world in which we embrace the courage it takes to believe that,
“It could be better than this. “
Miguel Ángel López Jr.
AfroLatin@ Forum Member
Mentee of the late Miriam Jiménez Román
