American Renaissance

Virginia Tech’s Professor of Hate

AR Articles on Racial Conflict
Ethnic Genetic Interests (Mar. 2002)
The Anatomy of Ethnic Conflict (Jun. 2002)
Search for Racial Conflict
More news stories on Racial Conflict
Steve Sailer,, April 26, 2007

Ever since South Korean immigrant Cho Seung-hui gunned down 32 people at Virginia Tech, there has been much comment that the university should have realized just from his two hate-filled and inept plays that the senior English major was a dangerous creep who needed to be taken away.

For a playwrighting class, Cho penned Mr. Brownstone and Richard McBeef (which, despite the Macbethian title, is a Hamlet-knock off about a young hero’s lethal conflict with the new stepfather who murdered his real father).

Richard McBeef includes such sterling dialogue as:

“I hate him. Must kill Dick. Must kill Dick. Dick must die. Kill Dick.”

Many have asked: “How could the English Department not recognize the horrific implications of these works?”

No one who wonders that, however, is familiar with the poetic oeuvre of one of Cho’s own teachers, Virginia Tech’s Distinguished Professor of English and Black Studies, Nikki Giovanni.

Among the most celebrated figures of the Black Arts Movement of the 1960s and recipient of 21 honorary degrees, Giovanni has published poems strikingly similar to Cho’s plays in both vileness and incompetence. For example:

The True Import of Present Dialog, Black vs. Negro, by Nikki Giovanni

Can you kill
Can you kill
Can a ni**er kill
Can a ni**er kill a honkie
Can a ni**er kill the Man
Can you kill ni**er
Huh? Ni**er can you kill
Do you know how to draw blood
Can you poison
Can you stab-a-Jew
Can you kill huh? Ni**er
Can you kill
Can you run a protestant down with your
’68 El Dorado
(that’s all they’re good for anyway)
Can you kill
Can you piss on a blond head
Can you cut it off
Can you kill
A ni**er can die
We ain’t got to prove we can die
We got to prove we can kill

Ironically, the author of these lines was asked to deliver the closing remarks at Virginia Tech’s convocation memorializing the 32 slaughtered by Cho. For some reason, Giovanni didn’t read The True Import.

The above poem is not an isolated example. Cho’s old professor has had, for example, a Molotov cocktail obsession:


Still, in 1997 the poetess had “Thug Life” tattooed on her arm to honor slain gangsta rapper Tupac Shakur, who was gunned down in a long-running fatal feud with other rappers. Wikipedia explains, with deadpan irony:


Giovanni also writes prose:

RACISM 101; Giovanni, Nikki; $20.00; This book indicts higher education for the inequities it perpetuates, contemplates the legacy of the 60’s, provides a survival guide for black students on predominately white campuses, and denounces Spike Lee while offering her own ideas for a film about Malcolm X. [From a list of “Books On The African American LGB Experience”]


As an anonymous commenter rhetorically asked on my blog:

“I wonder how many times Cho heard the phrase ‘white privilege’ while he was in college?”

(Click here] to see how often the term appears in the Virginia Tech website.)

Giovanni is one of those sub-doggerel “poets” who has such Important Things to say that she can’t be bothered to take the time to say them well. As she herself admitted to Brian Lamb on C-SPAN’s Booknotes, “I’m not a very good rhymer.” When she tries, it comes out like Cole Porter gone gaga:


Perhaps her best-known poem is Ego Tripping (there may be a reason why), a slab of Afrocentrist drivel from 1973:


Of course, Professor Giovanni, an elderly lady of 63, is not personally a danger to other people, no matter how bloodthirsty some of her poems are.

(What impact she has had over the years on earnest, impressionable young people might be a different question, however.)


Giovanni is a small town version of New York City charlatan Al Sharpton, You might think that the ringmaster of the 1987 Tawana Brawley hoax whose racist rhetorichelped incite the Crown Heights pogrom of 1991 and the Freddie’s Fashion Mart mass murder of 1995 might, like Don Imus, have talked himself out of a job by now.

And, yet, Sharpton not only endures, but prospers — elbowing his way back into the spotlights as the moral arbiter at the center of the recent Imus brouhaha.

Being a race hustler apparently means never having to say you’re sorry.

Original article

(Posted on April 26, 2007)

     Previous story       Next Story       Post a Comment      Search


Home      Top      Previous story       Next Story      Search

Post a Comment

Commenting guidelines: We welcome comments that add information or perspective, and we encourage polite debate. Statements of fact and well-considered opinion are welcome, but we will not post comments that include obscenities or insults, whether of groups or individuals. We reserve the right to hold our critics to lower standards.

Remember Me?

(you may use HTML tags for style)