ConnCAT | Culture & Community | Science Park | Arts & Culture | Literacy | BAMN Books
Top: Possible Futures' owner Lauren Anderson, author and educator Quartez Harris, Harris wife, the poet Kortney Morrow, and ConnCAT President and CEO Erik Clemons, who is also the CEO of ConnCAT's for-profit subsidiary, ConnCORP. Bottom: IfeMichelle Gardin flanked by emcee Frank Brady and young poets Shawn Douglas and Henry Mead. Lucy Gellman Photos.
In Quartez Harris and Amelia Sherwood’s hands, a young James Baldwin was coming back to life. On the page, he cradled a stack of three books, the spines thick and bright. A palm, fingers outstretched, reached for a hardcover from the shelf. Around him, the whole library felt like it was singing.
From one side of the room, a voice piped up, its pint-sized owner studying the scene intently. “Look!” she insisted. It was high, gentle, certain. For just a split second, it seemed like Baldwin was right there in the room, beaming back at her.
That vibrancy flooded the Connecticut Center for Arts & Technology (ConnCAT) on Saturday, as the sixth annual Kulturally LIT Fest (formerly Elm City LIT Fest) returned to Science Park to celebrate the “Year of X.” Curated by Kulturally LIT’s powerhouse team, the day-long celebration included panels, author talks, live performances, and an announcement of the city’s second-ever poet laureate.
That honor now belongs to poet Yexandra Diaz; Wilbur Cross High School student Henry Mead was named the city's second Youth Poet Laureate (the first is Anna Capelle, who won the title last year). This year, the day’s programming also centered the legacies of Malcolm X and Medgar Evers, both of whom were assassinated for their commitment to civil rights work before their 40th birthdays.
A “Year of X” book club, held the third Thursday of each month at Possible Futures, continues through the end of the year.
“I feel grateful,” said LIT Fest Founder and Director IfeMichelle Gardin, who has grown the festival from a small book club in a police substation to a year-long event fêting literature of the Black diaspora. Last year, amidst centennial celebrations of James Baldwin, she picked the theme after observing Evers’ birthday on July 2. “I started thinking that in this coming year, people really need to know the significance of their work.”
Top: DJ Dana Cobbs and emcee Frank Brady. Bottom: Sankofa Learning Center Founder and Montessori educator Amelia Allen Sherwood and author Quartez Harris. Lucy Gellman Photos.
And throughout the day, they did, learning right alongside Gardin and the dozens of academics, authors, musicians and wordsmiths she had gathered at 4 Science Park beneath the LIT Fest umbrella. As artists prepared a number of crafts for kids upstairs, Harris took a seat with Sankofa Learning Center’s Amelia Allen Sherwood, a copy of his book Go Tell It: How James Baldwin Became A Writer between them.
Published in January of this year, Go Tell It follows the story of Baldwin not as an adult, essayist, sharp-tongued expat or deep, prolific thinker and writer, but as a boy, during the period that he preached whole sermons from a Pentecostal storefront church, fell in love with books and film, and helped raise his eight brothers and sisters (Harris, at one point, described the writer with a diaper in one hand and a book in the other).
“His principles were love,” Harris said. “If you read Baldwin, it really is a love letter.”
He turned the clock back to Baldwin’s early years at PS 24, where the then-young writer was reading Charles Dickens and writing about the Spanish Revolutionary War by the time he was 14. It would still be eight years until he published a book review in The Nation, and 10 until his story “Previous Condition” became the first in a prolific and impassioned career. It would be decades until Baldwin moved to St. Paul-de-Vence, France, where he spent the last 17 years of his life. 
Top: Poet Laureate finalist Jonah Cragett. Bottom: Sisters Neváe and Santana Brightly dive into some info on ConnCAT's after-school and summer programs. Lucy Gellman Photos.
Decades later, Harris and his wife, the poet Kortney Morrow, would travel to France for the centennial of Baldwin’s birth, and see the remains of the places that he called home. Harris was so overwhelmed with the significance of the trip that he spent days “crying like a baby,” he remembered to laughs.
But here, in these pages, Baldwin was simply a kid, learning to love the written word. In the ocean of work about Baldwin, Harris explained, it was a single place where young people—in part thanks to illustrator Gordon C James, who Harris has long revered as an educator himself—could see themselves.
“Why was it important to amplify his story as a boy?” Sherwood asked, remembering a conversation she had with one of her sons about the book.
Harris didn’t hesitate. For one thing, he said, Baldwin loved children—not just his siblings or family members, but all children. He believed, strongly and through his life, that adults had a moral obligation to protect them, whether they were bound by blood or simply by the human condition. He had that same deep care and reverence for books, through which he was able to escape from the confines of poverty in Harlem.
“Books were his safe haven,” Harris said. “If you think about it, he became a book. He became many books. When I see a boy reading, I think, ‘That’s Baldwin.’”
“I’m always thinking about the power that words possess,” he added a moment later. “I just see the world changing when I see a kid reading.”
Aidan Jordan (bottom), a Cooperative Arts & Humanities High School student who performs as Not Your Average Violinist. Lucy Gellman Photos.
It’s also carrying on a revolutionary legacy, he added. After a request from his nephew Tejan, who went by TJ, Baldwin wrote a children’s book titled Little Man Little Man, which he published in 1976. Yoran Cazac, a French painter with whom Baldwin was close, did the illustrations. But the book, which includes an acknowledgement of racism, police violence, and poverty, went out of print almost as quickly as it had appeared.
“He felt like that book was critical to protecting the self-esteem of Black children,” Harris said. Now, Harris feels like he’s filling a void. That he got to collaborate with James, a favorite illustrator among Harris’ young students in the Cleveland Metropolitan School District, made the experience feel all the more special. He added that after the book came out, he had the chance to meet Baldwin's sister, Elizabeth Dingle, after a reading and visit to her church.
In the audience, attendees murmured in delight. Lifting her phone to record, educator Alicia Tyson-Sherwood praised Harris’ work, which makes the story of Baldwin more accessible. When Harris described his next book project, a middle-grade story “about a kid like me, a kid with an IEP,” she smiled excitedly.
“Reading opens every single door,” she said.
Prose Party In The Parking Lot
Top: The musician Stout. Bottom: Kris Allen. Lucy Gellman Photos.
Outside, LIT Fest kept that momentum going, from bookstore vendors, zine artists and food truck owners to live performers who made the stage their own. As the musician Stout took the mic to cheers, LIT Fest novice and author Kris Allen invited attendees over to her booth, where her books sought to “bring people closer to their faith in God,” she said. A few yards away, bookseller Charlene Snipes-Walker welcomed people into a pop-up version of Spanish Moss Books, so named for her South Carolinian roots.
While Snipes-Walker now lives in Connecticut, she grew up in the South, building a collection of used books that centered Black characters, Caribbean characters, and protagonists of color. At some point, she realized that she had enough books for a business. So when she saw a notice for LIT Fest, it was a no-brainer. Around her, titles like Zadie Smith’s Feel Free, Eleanor Shearer’s River Sing Me Home and Zora Neale Hurston’s Barracoon beckoned.
Back on stage, Stout put a soulful, jazz- and gospel-flecked spin on James Brown’s “I Feel Good,” bouncing between the lyrics as she layered her vocals with a loop pedal. As she sang, she remembered driving all the way to New Haven from Washington, D.C., to pay homage to the place where she was born and raised.
“I feel blessed that I was able to make it down the road with y’all and deposit something in your spirit,” she said. “Listen—” she belted the next part “Said I’m grateful! Said I’m gr-aaa-te-ful”
She urged attendees to put down their phones and stop recording, so that they could listen with their full attention. “Just record with your mind,” she said with a smile. 
Top: Tyasha or Ty with Dyme Ellis. Bottom: Althea Lyttle-Brown and Charlese Snipes-Walker of Spanish Moss Books. Lucy Gellman Photos.
At a nearby display from Possible Futures (which has collaborated with LIT Fest many times over), ConnCAT CEO and President Erik Clemons was mulling over Nicholas Boggs’ Baldwin: A Love Story. He had just finished the book, he explained—Clemons has read most everything by, about, and pertaining to Baldwin—and was looking for something new to read. Anderson placed a copy of Go Tell It snugly in his hands. It wasn’t an academic tome—but it was a refreshing and tender look at the artist.
“It feels incredible!" Clemons said of LIT Fest’s growth, which for two years has taken place at ConnCAT’s 4 Science Park home. With a smile, he remembered the first time Gardin came to him with an idea for a Black book festival. Even then, she was prepared with a PowerPoint presentation.”She really walked me through it,” he remembered.
But that was 2019, and Covid-19 had other plans. Months later, LIT Fest went remote and held Black book clubs that connected the community during lockdown. Then it was outdoors, behind the former Dixwell Plaza. Then it jumped to the Stetson Branch Library, while also growing its footprint. Only last fall did it at last come to ConnCAT, to celebrate the legacy of James Baldwin.
“The growth of the festival is an indication of the growth of her [Gardin’s] ideas,” Clemons said. “All the people colliding here is the manifestation of LIT Fest’s mission and ConnCAT’s mission.”
Paris Cannon: Literary arts through a cultural lens.
On her way to check out things outside, first-time attendee Paris Cannon soaked it all in. Born and raised in New Haven, Cannon is a voracious reader, and was curious about the day’s panels, artmaking workshops and literary trivia. A nurse by day, she turns to nonfiction as a kind of self-care, working her way through books when “I need a break from the health of our country.”
Seeing “literary arts through a cultural lens is really important to me,” she said. That’s been especially true in recent months, as she watches federal efforts to dismantle decades of historical progress and civil rights legislation unfold right in front of her. That includes, for instance, a decision from the National Park Service last month to remove historical markers that acknowledged and recorded the cruelty of slavery and forced displacement of Indigenous Americans from their land.
“Keep Building Community” 
Top: Poet Nzima Hutchings and Bella’Rae Knia Robinson. Lucy Gellman Photo. Bottom: Markeisha Ricks, Lisa D. Gray, and Dr. Siobhan Carter-David. Abiba Biao Photo.
Back inside, panelists mingled with poets, painters and puppeteers, with youth activities from Third Space New Haven, artist Iyaba Ibo Mandingo, and painters Candyce “Marsh” John and Amber Cohens that brought in attendees of all ages. In the center of it all, Enfield poet laureate Nzima Hutchings buzzed between her niece, the young writer Bella’Rae Knia Robinson and a table for the Hartford Book Festival, which she launched seven years ago.
“This is a literary state!” she said of her collaboration with Gardin, taking time to check in with writer and educator Barbara McClane about her memoir, Blessed, Not Bitter. Published in 2022, the book chronicles McClane’s own journey to find spiritual and emotional healing after a childhood in which she grappled with abandonment and trauma. The author, who first visited LIT Fest last year, returned to chat with attendees about her book.
“I love it! It’s amazing!” McClane said of the festival, reflecting on how much she loved watching kids connect with each other at a Sankofa pop-up with blocks and toys. “It’s multicultural, multigenerational.”
Down a hallway lined with student artwork and portraits from the Civil Rights era, moderator Markeshia Ricks welcomed people into “Women In The Civil Rights Era,” a panel with Dr. Siobhan Carter-David, associate professor of history at Southern Connecticut State University (SCSU), and Oakland-based writer Lisa D. Gray.
Outside, the poet Sun Queen read as one of the finalists for the city's poet laureate later in the day. Lucy Gellman Photo. Bottom: Shaunda Holloway and Danielle Campbell. Abiba Biao Photo.
Both are deeply interested in the overlooked work, from protest to mutual aid to community care, that women were doing to hold down the civil rights movement over half a century ago. Both are working on forthcoming books, with Gray’s focused specifically on women and protest in the early 1960s (read more about that here). Both mentioned figures like Mollie Moon, Eartha Kitt, and Rosa Parks.
But throughout, both also often seemed more interested in what people today, fighting for many of the same basic protections, can learn from these women of the past.
“I think my takeaway is to keep building community,” Carter-David said, referencing a report that 300,000 Black women have lost their jobs since President Donald Trump’s return to office in January. “Things are getting scary out here. We don’t know necessarily what the future holds, and I think one of the most important things is going to be able to call on your loved ones, people you can depend on in times of need.”
For Carter-David, the contributions of women are part of a long history that is too often under-taught and therefore lesser known. While many know about now-canonical figures like Sojourner Truth and Harriet Tubman, she noted, there have been women in every part of every social justice movement, fighting for causes that included emancipation, support of labor unions, and anti-lynching work.
Gray, meanwhile, also looked to the lives and contributions of teens and children during this time period. In her book, she has coined the term “shadow people,” referring to Black women who hold close proximity to whiteness due to features such as fair skin.
Top: Artists Candyce “Marsh” John and Amber Cohens. Lucy Gellman Photo. Bottom: Serving as the keynote speaker of the event was Dr. Michael Vinson Williams, director of the Africana Studies Program at the University of Tennessee Chattanooga. In his seminar titled “Medgar Evers Legacy of Voting as Resistance," Dr. Williams discussed the biographical details of Evers and X. Abiba Biao Photo.
Some of these women were able to use their social status to support the movement, she recalled. For instance, there is the story of Nellie Jackson, a real-life Mississippi woman who ran a bordello from the 1930s to the 1990s. Jackson used the money that she raised through her business to fund children’s school fees and to support activists on the front lines. The space, meanwhile, became a centralized hub to gather intelligence on community activities from police conduct (or lack thereof) and civic leaders alike.
“What I think people fail to understand, then and now, is that our liberation is incumbent on our participation,” she said. “And so, no matter where we find ourselves, if we are able, many times — I'm not going to say all the time — but many times, we leverage what we have in service of moving the race forward, if that’s possible for us.”
It struck a chord with many in the audience. When the discussion had concluded, writer Danielle Campbell quickly raised her hand. Given how underrepresented these women are in the histories of the civil rights movement, she asked, what can Black women do to better prepare for movement work in the present?
Carter-David looked to another book, Tera Hunter’s To ‘Joy My Freedom, to answer the question. In her prologue, Hunter describes three formerly enslaved women, promenading on a Saturday in 1866 outside of the Freedmen’s Bureau office in Atlanta. Parasols and fans in hand to beat the summer heat, the ladies strut around in multi-patterned dresses, all of which have been transformed through darning. Darning is a process whereby enslaved people would sew up rags and miscellaneous cloths into elaborate garments and dresses.
Despite the ladies’ style, Hunter reminds her readers that when the weekday hits, they’ll have to put their fancy clothes away to return to the manual labor—cooking and cleaning—that they do to make a living.
Carter-David often uses Hunter’s text in class to cover Reconstruction, the 12-year period following the Civil War during which the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments were added to the U.S.Constitution, and an era of conservative backlash and racialized violence followed. After reading the text, she asks students to identify the needs of enslaved people, using Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs as an outline.
Top: Aidan Jordan and Janayris Bernardez. Bottom: Yex Diaz with Jonah Craggett and 5-year-old Skr. Lucy Gellman Photos.
When her students do, the points to the fact that these women, who have experienced the abject cruelties of enslavement and poverty, still don’t miss a chance to elevate themselves. For her, it’s a reminder that even in the least ideal situations, it’s possible to hold onto one’s values, show up authentically, and find joy. It’s these steps that are essential to self-actualization, which rests at the top of the hierarchy of needs.
“The way you show up and expressing your culture through how you dress, expressing your personality… it's about building community and having a way of having yourself affirmed by having community with you,” she said. (The subject is dear to her: she’s working on a book about fashion following the civil rights era).
“And so I think that I want us to think about rest, work, just a broad range of what it needs to be a person, but not to sort of limit yourself in a way that you can't experience that self actualization,” she continued. “Because our ancestors were able to do that under some of the most difficult circumstances.”
Like Carter-David, Gray also brought up themes of self-acceptance in her work. Or as she said, “I bring me everywhere I go.”
“And that means I bring my whole self into the room,” she continued. “My Blackness, my woman-ness, my loudness, my I-don't-give-a-fuck-ness, right?” Gray said. “That follows me, that comes with me and when I do that, that means that I'm able to educate, I'm able to assist.”
It wasn’t long before artist Shaunda Holloway grabbed the mic, to ask Gray what she has learned in Oakland and San Francisco that people can bring with them into artistic and organizing spaces in New Haven.
Gray—who grew up in New Haven and has graced the pages of the New Haven Independent and its arts arm, Midbrow— stressed the importance of finding Black affinity spaces wherever a person lands. She also noted that “there's an active attack on Black people in San Francisco,” due to the underfunding of social justice projects and hate against community leaders.
“I've learned that we're pretty much all the same no matter where we are, that community is everything. and to understand that no matter where you are, you are a threat, and to always be mindful of that.”
Back outside, musicians Aidan Jordan and Janayris Bernardez personified that community. Both juniors at Cooperative Arts & Humanities High School, the two came Saturday as a dynamic duo, with Jordan performing everything from Bruno Mars to Diana Ross under his sobriquet, Not Your Average Violinist.
When the two ended on Cynthia Erivo’s “Stand Up,” from the movie Harriet, the parking lot exploded with applause. The finalists for the city’s title of poet laureate dotted the crowd, brimming with anticipation. Just minutes before, Jordan had stood behind the stage, calming his nerves as he reflected on the legacy of Evers and X.
“I think it’s trying to help my people, and people in the future, forge a new path forward for a younger generation,” he said. Then he went on stage, and did just that.