Enhancing Self-Acceptance

Last evening I had the opportunity to be an audience member at a concert by Buju Banton in Minneapolis. Creating some of today’s most inspirational music, Banton is also one of reggae/dancehall’s top artists. This isn’t and article about Buju. Instead this is an account of what I saw and what I felt inside of that room, what was said, and the lack of caring response.

Around 12 midnight Buju Banton landed on stage to perform some of his classics and new music to a crowd of mostly African, West Indian, and African-Americans (for the sake of the article) mid-twenty year-olds. About 3 minutes into his set he screams “Minneapolis” with little response. From the look on his face it looked as if he had made a mistake so he adjusted his shout out to say “Indianapolis,” which he repeated at least 3 more times throughout his set, until later corrected by a member of his sound crew. All Buju could do is laugh and continue to do his job. Don’t get me wrong, this is not an attack on Buju. (He seemed a lot more comfortable than Burning Spear who played looking at the ground his entire set in a room of less than 10% Black faces.) The issue at hand is that at least 30 minutes went by without anyone I could visibly see in the crowd making an attempt to correct him.

I am writing this article because we as residents of this country are in an awkward position that makes itself apparent every time we are asked our place of origin. When we cling to our history we have hope. When we realize that we have a new foundation, it is there that we can move forward with a sense of true self and as a collective body. Standing in the crowd last night, I was again forced to question our consistently erasing attachment to pride and self-acceptance.

“We perceive a special relationship created by a shared genetic identity. When a new baby enters a family, one of the first responses is to figure out who she resembles.”
Dorothy Roberts – “Killing the Black Body”

Many of us live in communities where we do not feel like we are accepted or that we belong. It is my argument that when we are placed in geographic situations where we are clearly not the majority for the most part we take one of two approaches. The first is inward self-preservation. The second is hopelessness in that location, which creates distaste for one’s self.

Inward Self-preservation
When Banton as well as each of the opening acts asked crowd members to say where they were from there were many different levels of response. When asking, “where all the Kenyan’s were at” a loud pocket of response came from one part of the room. The same for Ghanaian’s, Jamaican’s, etc. When it came time to make noise for Minneapolis there was a pitiful response. What that response said to me again was that the preservation of a culture in the state of Minnesota was not a priority or it was not wanted.

People cling to what makes them feel accepted, as well as to when they can see self-reflection. An obvious difference I see between a family that comes to Minnesota from the continent or from the West Indies and those of us in the state that are here as a result of the transatlantic slave trade is that some pocket of unity moves as well. Though I can not say that I am an expert of African and West Indian family structure, I can say that most of the Nigerians I know will be quick to tell you they are Nigerian, Jamaican, etc. When asking “African-American’s” the same question there is a wide range of responses that do not have a clearly central point.

Hopelessness in Location
“Those who can afford to run will run/but what about those who can’t?”
Buju Banton – “Til I’m Laid To Rest”

Over the years I have encountered countless Black Minneapolis youth that will not claim that they are from the city. Many will say that they are from Chicago, or Gary, etc, even if they only lived there for a few months as a child. On the other hand I know countless New York and Atlanta residents that will be quick to tell you that they are from the aforementioned locations.
When people refuse to claim the location where they live, there becomes a distaste, lack of respect of both self and others, and sense of hopelessness. I don’t know how many times growing up I heard people say, “I can’t wait until I graduate so I can get out of here.” So what happens when you don’t graduate? What happens when you don’t go anywhere and you have no investment in the local community? I can tell you exactly what happens in those situations, you feel as if you are in a box with a closed lid. You know that there is something else out there for you to identify with, but you have no idea if you will ever reach that destination. Many of us give up and give in. There is much and many to blame for that, but that was not the purpose of this article.

This article was written as a rallying call, not for any particular group, but instead for one’s own self. This is an open letter to all people living in places where they don’t feel like they have a true identity. You are a ______________ (fill in continent of origin here) as well as a ________________ (fill in state here). I am a member of the African Diaspora as well as a Minnesotan. As well as a Minneapolite (if that’s even a word). I know there is a lot of stress and depression that is associated with the feeling of a lack of origin. I have gone through it, many of you have as well. When we accept that we are citizens of multiple places we can have that extra sense of pride and togetherness that makes us feel whole. Now ask yourself. What happens when the only thing that you are taught to cling to and take pride in is the portrayal of yourself as violent, promiscuous, and lazy?

Bless Up,
Toki Wright

**Catch me performing at the following places in the next two weeks:
Chicago – Big Horse – Thursday Sept 21st – Doors at 9pm
Mpls - Dinkytowner Café – Saturday Sept 23rd – Doors at 9pm
Tuscon and Tempe, AZ – Fri and Sat Sept 28,29 – Check the web

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Music from Rwanda

Trying to build upon the growing network of African musicians. Look for more Rwandan artists soon. Staulen Green

peace,
toki

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