Man of Many Words

It was after we sat in the red and blue Liberty Bowl. Voices were strained; hands were raised, along with the hopes of the Arkansas fans as they wanted a victory. But that was a disappointment my cousin, Bryian Revoner lived with. The vibrant red ASU shirt contrasted with his dark skin and the dreadlocks he had reminded me of a Jamaican Bubbles from Powerpuff Girls. The forty-two year old man had better and more interesting things to discuss than his alma mater losing.

From seeing the intense focus he had while typing away on his iPhone, to his political banter over at Logan’s Roadhouse, he sparked a debate wherever he went. Crime rates in Arkansas, to college football, to even finding ways to improve the community, he was a man who brought about revelations and inspiration. It was later that evening when I introduced him to the dark, cool area of the University of Memphis when it clicked that the two of us are more alike than I thought.

Abandoned by most of his family at a young age, Bryian could never really understand why that happened or what caused it. Growing up, he was unwillingly immersed into things that can drive a sane man astray. He underwent racism, discrimination, hitting the streets- looking to find a way to prove he was a man. With all that confusion, he picked up writing. Realizing this hobby alleviated stress, he described it as a “cleansing of the soul.”

“It’s not about which one paints the prettiest picture,” he lectured. “It’s about which one gets its point across. Which version can take the reader-“ he hesitated as I finished his sentence,  “And put them in there?” Bryian compared the effectiveness of writer with that of a description of a meadow. “Imagine a normal everyday meadow: grass, beautiful flowers blooming, sunlight glistening off the morning dew, and the occasional stream running through.  Naturally beautiful.”

            

“Now imagine a war going on in that same meadow. Soldiers fighting with decapitated limbs littering the ground, no sunlight glistening off the dew- but blood staining everything. Moans and groans of wounded troops fill the air just like gunshots. People will not necessarily choose the horrifying one, as they are attracted to beauty- not destruction. But it’s about the one that gripped your attention, sends chills after you read it.”

            

That was when Bryian finally learned how to write, but there were other things that influenced that thought provoking writing style. It was with the berating of one of his professors that spurred him to not only be an effective writer, but to give people the truth straight up.  “My ability to write is more than satisfying your opinion.”

One of his Journalism professors at ASU wanted him to do what the professor wanted. The professor wanted him to talk about something else, instead of being brutally honest. Bryian isn’t one to be “friendly to the reader,” he was hardcore in his thinking- giving everyone the truth. However, the professor wanted him to spoon-feed bits of the truth. He disagreed, but the professor gave him the “I have a degree and you don’t” speech.

Instead of challenging that professor, he took his word for it. His adult life paved way for his opinions to be known through politics. After college, Bryian began to work for OpED News, Addictinginfo.com, Smoking Hot Politics, Politicsusa.com, and Theexaminer.com. He also became a published author, writing The Fear of Being Challenged. Bryian took other routes to get his voice out there.

Music was something he discovered in high school. It helped ease the confusion and gave him some grasp on his style of writing. After revealing that side of him several months ago, Bryian was a man who had more than writing articles or blog posts under his belt. He had a particular song that would describe his life and all his struggles called “Epitaph."

The meaning epitaph is the words on the back of a tombstone. It’s the words written about what people would say to remember a certain person. “Like Abraham Lincoln,” Bryian began. “He was the 16^th president of the United States, greatest president of all time. He faced great adversity during the Civil War. His defining moment was conquering that war and bringing the United States back together. That was as epitaph- the greats of someone’s life.”

He began saying the lyrics to his song in the blistering wind. As the words danced in the evening air, one phrase hung deeply: “Am I the one who didn’t make it and never got a chance to see?” The song told about all his failures, obstacles, and challenges throughout the first twenty-eight years of his life. He managed to find his strength to go on, and wants everyone to put his or her best foot forward.

There were certain moments where Bryian would apologize from saying too much. From politics to racism, he had a lot on his mind. What stuck to him the most was the future. “Differences are distractions. They are only to distract you from the real goal- real agenda.” His “preaching” began. “You have to own up to the reality. Racism exists, and for the naysayers, they don’t want to deal with the hard truth, but no one can get past it until they deal with it. On the flipside, because of it, no one would try.”

“As a minority in this country, the system is not necessarily your friend. It is up to YOU,” he put all kinds of emphasis as he slammed the table, “to find a way to not let the system defeat you. Society is not going to move the obstacles out of your way. It is YOUR responsibility.”

From looking at most of the people today, he saw the same thing. People who were slowly but surely falling down the path of self-destruction- being “hoochie mamas” or “gangbangers.” “That’s your choice,” he honestly spoke. “I don’t want to drag people to change. If you were to live a life like that, then at least try to consider the alternative. Just think about it. Think about being smart, mature, and having the mentality that says ‘I’m not going out like that.”

Bryian found his voice through his writing, struggles, music, and the many defining moments in his life. He went astray and nearly lost himself, but found a way to get back.  With hardly any immediate family, he bonded with his cousins he met. His opinions matter to those who are willing to listen. He left off with a piece of advice for anyone who wanted a profession in journalism or writing for any matter. “Your opinion is just as good as anyone else’s. The only was it can make a difference is if you have information that no one else has.”