In Defense of Derek Walcott

I returned home from St. Lucia to discover controversy brewing about the island's most famous son, Caribbean Nobel Laureate Derek Walcott. He was a front-runner for the highly prestigious, mostly honorary position of Oxford University Professor of Poetry. But a few days ago, he withdrew his candidacy because of a nasty behind-the-scenes, smear campaign. Instead of a first black professor of poetry, Oxford now has its first woman, Ruth Padel. And there has been nothing even remotely poetic about the fallout.

The issues of course, run a lot deeper than just gender and racial politics. Derek Walcott has been plagued with sexual harassment claims for years. London's Guardian revealed the salacious details of how anonymous opponents of Walcott, largely believed to be backers for Padel, sent photo copies from the book The Lecherous Professor to Oxford academics. The book explores the 1982 sexual harassment claims made by a Harvard student against Walcott. Rather than dignify such underhanded tactics, Walcott resigned from consideration for the 300-year-old post. Walcott supporters, including prominent feminist scholar Herminone Lee, loudly protested the double standard that focuses on an artist's behavior and not his work. They pointed out that if they censored all writers for inappropriate behavior, from Keats, to Byron and Elliot, there would be hardly anyone left. Even his former accuser Nicole Kelby, who sued Boston University for what she believed was sexual harassment by Walcott in 1996, lamented the lost opportunity to hear lectures from the "greatest living poet in our time."

As a feminist immersed in Caribbean culture, I feel compelled to add my perspective. Derek Walcott should not be excused for his behavior. Sexual harassment is painful and damaging on many levels. Too often, it's treated as a minor offense but it's not. It's about power and control wielded unjustly and nobody should have to deal with it. That being said, the Professor of Poetry position does not involve any situations where the holder has power or control over students. The position does not include classes or any one-on one or small group workshops. It only calls for 3 university wide lectures a year.

Derek Walcott is of a generation and culture that rewards womanizing. In the Caribbean, men who are experts at flirting and maintaining lots of simultaneous relationships with women are highly regarded. Women expect it and men congratulate it. It's a deep-seated cultural issue that plays havoc with families and women's self esteem. It's an issue that needs to be seriously addressed but Oxford is not the place for that. Derek Walcott is considered the greatest living poet of the English-speaking world. He swirls the heart and soul of the Caribbean with the classic canon for verses that sear into you. He is 79-years-old. There will not be many more opportunities for him to share his genius in person. I believe that it is a disservice to his talent and to Oxford students for him not to hold the Professor of Poetry position. I feel that the underhanded politics that undermined his candidacy reflect outdated colonial attitudes and bias. If the situation were reversed and Walcott was a woman accused of sexually harassing young men, I'd feel the same way. It's not about sex or race but the greatness of talent.

UPDATE:

According to the Guardian Ruth Padel, the Oxford Professor of Poetry for just 9 days, has stepped down from the position. She has admitted to sending emails to journalists that emphasized Walcott's sexual harassment charges. A new election will have to be organized and hopefully, Walcott will again be considered.

Love After Love by Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.