Remembering
Bill Berry
Class of 1973
Connecting Beyond Time and Place
An Introduction by Dan Perkins ’78
When I began receiving emails notifying members of Black Williams that Bill Berry had passed, my mind went blank. I recognized the name, but couldn’t put a face or a moment of connection with the name. Receiving Lezli White’s (Class of 1975) email helped. Lezli’s reflections, published below, reminded me that Bill had published Kujichagulia, a college newsletter covering Black life at Williams. That publication greatly influenced my decision to attend Williams. I had received a copy of Bill’s publication with notification of my acceptance into Williams, thanks to Bennie Boswell. The recollection brought a flood of memories. I recalled having a discussion about Kujichagulia with Michael Knight ’76 (deceased) in the Sterling Brown Library of the Black Student Union, in Mears House. I also recalled how delighted I was to see a copy of the paper in the Special Collections of the Library at Williams College during AFR50, back in April of 2019.
I can honestly say that I am inspired to publish BW50+ because of the many Great and Creative Black Folk I met during my time at Williams — and Bill Berry’s creativity and genius is very much a part of the mix. Although my social connection to Bill was brief – at best – his life and time at Williams is forever intertwined with the purple thread that knits through me. We are forever connected beyond time and place.
May you rest in peace, Bill Berry; and in God’s glory and love; and may He grant His Peace to all whom you loved, and to all who loved you — and love you still.
Four Members of the Class of 1975 Remember Bill
Jacqueline Laughlin ’75
Wish to share my wide open heart. First with my brothers and sisters. First Williams Family.
I just heard / received this text. From Bari (shown below). His beautiful wife, best friend and mother of their son Mo…
“Jackie, this is Bari. I have some heartbreaking news. Bill passed on Friday. He had neuroendocrine tumor cancer, which he was reluctant to talk about as he wanted no sympathy. We were encouraged by his doctor who was encouraged by Bill’s numbers after 2 chemo treatments.
This past week he got weaker and his health deteriorated very quickly. He was admitted to ICU on Thursday and transitioned on Friday. Mo is here and we are slowly processing it all.
He loved your conversations, your friendship, and the connection you had. Please let the Williams community know. He appreciated you all so very much.
You have my contact now. We have no plans for a service yet, not that I’d expect anyone to attend, but when we do, I will let you know.”
Marshall Murray ’75
I will always remember Bill for various reasons but mostly as my freshman roommate. He shared a room with me and David Jones (deceased) in Sage C 2nd floor. I will miss him even though we did not reconnect until last fall.
Frank Richards ’75
Lezli Hope White ’75
Bill Berry created a black newspaper at Williams College called Kujichagulia. At the time he was Kobe Nyamavu before he became Simba Nyamavu. I think he told me Kobe meant turtle, but as the web doesn’t even acknowledge Kobe, Nigeria, I can’t find the meaning.
Kujichagulia had been my favorite Nguzo Saba principle, that I had learned at The East, as a younger teenager, traveling from Queens to Brooklyn, so what an affirmation to have a newspaper that would cover my concerns and endeavors — when the other resident media would not.
Kujichagulia means to define ourselves, name ourselves and speak for ourselves instead of being defined or spoken for by others.
He also created a literary magazine called Pamoja Tutashinda — which means “together we will win.” Another affirmation as I had learned the song “Sisi wetu/ weusi/ wantu wazuri/pamoja tuta shinda/ pamoja tuta shinda” at the East. We are black/beautiful people/ together we will win/together we will win/together we will win”
I came to Williams for premed, as a poet and writer, academic music major used to seeing my work in print from elementary school through high school. What a shock for a NYC kid like me to run into such racism/misogyny from the over culture. But within the society we carved for ourselves, there was possibility, affirmation, support. There was a magazine, a newspaper, coffee houses, feasts, choruses, plays. Visits from black creators, intellectuals, poets, playwrights, musicians!
For all the many blows — and physical violence/threats — there were these psychological protections. Bill built these.
I am still writing because he and a few others rebuilt me when the “they” tore me up and down. Seriously, I was attacked and deterred and Bill helped me stay the course. Not just by example and inspiration but by real encouragement, engagement and building infrastructure.
I can barely write any of this without weeping, remembering the abject awfulness and profound joy. And the lessons, which I won’t recount in a public space that he shared in sharing a part of life and his personal struggles as a young black man dedicated to liberation, to evolving.
Bill documented, taking pictures, writing articles, doing layout presenting us to ourselves. A gift of solidifying community that is beyond price. The value of the archive beyond estimation. It is a message to the future and a gift to the ancestors. Who knew? Bill did!
And it is amazing to me that we were all babies, though I didn’t see myself that way, having to of course, as they now say, grow up early. I’ve had more youth and leeway as an adult than I did then as a black woman premed in a formerly all male white Ivy League college.
I thought of Bill when I went to graduate school, I thought of Bill when I got my first apartments in Manhattan, I thought of Bill when I worked with Baraka on creating the Black Writers Union. I thought of Bill when I got my first 35mm and learned to develop my photos and took pictures of jazz musicians and poets and other black creators.
Bill found me online and we reconnected, again he created a space that included my work when I was not getting any play. Which buoyed me, healed me.
I had hoped to mimic him in moving to California and spent a ton of time being nearly bicoastal.
And that he committed to music, to jazz was a reaffirmation for me too, versus mourning the dust gathering on my tenor and alto, I got a soprano, because there was Bill, out in the world, playing his bass, risking and
learning and sharing reports from that creative front, that wellspring of joy.
May he and his beloveds be ever blessed.
A Window to the Writings of Bill Barry
Bill Beyond Williams
Bill was a man with deep thoughts; and his writings touched on a wide range of topics — some important, others colorful.
Below is one of Bill’s lighter writings.
I Write to Learn What I Think
FEBRUARY 21, 2021
They say the first draft is shit, so just put a whole lot of whatevers out there because you’re going to rewrite it anyway.
Not that I believe what “they” say, right?
I make mistakes. Sometimes they’re doozies! Which contradicts the idea there are no mistakes. I mean, if you learn something, was it a mistake?
Blah. Blah. Blah.
So here’s the deal. I post a lot of links to articles I read. Sometimes I even write a post myself. [I do love to write, you know.] Most of the time, if I post something, it’s because what I read or saw resonated with me in some way.
So what I learned recently was (besides the fact I start way, waay too many sentences with the word, “so.”)
So what I learned recently was some people (on my team? colleagues?) feel I’m hypocritical. They seem to think I post ideas that I don’t do myself. I don’t live up to what I post.
Seriously, people? I mean, “REALLY?”
When this criticism first danced across my brainwaves, I was like…
So I have this rule. Never, under any frakkin’ circumstances, never, ever be defensive. About anything! It just makes things worse. Including making other people defensive too.
So I hear the criticism, and I’m like, ARE YOU SERIOUS??? Apparently, yes, serious!
Here’s the thing. If I post something, it’s because it resonated with me. It made me think.Usually, it made me think about myself and what I don’t do. Or what I need to do more of. How I need to learn how to do exactly THAT thing described in the article or thoughts in sharing! Ya dig?
Man, I can hardly fathom the idea that I can’t share a thought unless I’m a perfect representative of that idea? That’s like, don’t you ever, in your whole life, ever. post. anything!
The good news? You know there’s gotta be some good news, right?
The good news is the feedback came with the suggestion, “I think you should keep posting, keep sharing.” Yeah, right, don’t let this little bit of whatever seep into your tiny pea-brain. Keep posting. Just know that some people think you are a total, complete, 100 percent, YEAH, PHONY!!! That is all.
Which right about now, 393 words into this rough draft, has me feeling like, “maybe I should rewrite before letting an editor look at this?” Because, they’re going to think this is shit and, by all the evidence presented herein, I’m shit and can’t write. Which is not what I want them – not to mention YOU – to think.
Still, I have this goal of writing 500 words a day, and I’m already up to 465. And, just so you know, the number “465” is considered a word. And now I’m all the way up to, well not exactly, but almost up to just about, let’s see, yes, 493 words. [It was 500 words, but, you know, editing!]
The end!
____________________________________________________________________________
Note: I originally shared this three years ago (2/21/2018). It still feels right. I’ve since decided the title is where I’m at. I write as part of the process of figuring out what I think about things or what makes sense to me. That’s always been true. It goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: your mileage may vary!
I invite you to disagree with me. Hell, I may not even agree with me and I just wrote it! ¯_(ツ)_/¯
Special thanks to Jackie Laughlin ’75 for helping to make this celebration colorful and rich, and reflective of Bill.