bryanjazz

It has been a long time since I've been back to California. The 49th Annual Monterey Jazz Festival is what brings me here. I flew into Los Angeles on Wednesday, and drove up to Monterey on Thursday. The drive was great. Living on the East Coast for the past 15 years, it was nice to re-view how beautiful California really is, especially once you emerge from the metropoli of Southern Cal. Before going to the festival on Friday night, my cousins and I spent the day driving around Pebble Beach and the Del Monte Forest and Point Lobos State Reserve on the Monterey Peninsula. "Breathtaking" is, in my view, an inacurate word to desrcibe such beauty. For it is more like breathing anew: each time I am in such a place, I sense each breath as an infusion of Spirit, a reminder not only of beauty in the world, but of the beauty of my own being.
To combine such visual beauty with the aural tapestries of jazz for the weekend, is indeed, enjoying the sweetness in life.

(*listening to Alice Coltrane's "Om Supreme" from Eternity)

Who woulda thunk it? That I would be in Ghana on the occasion of one of the rare spectacles of nature. It was a pretty amazing site to see. The photos are only a pale artifact of the phenomenon of seeing the sun blackout and experiencing few moments of darkness midmorning.

Photos by J. Amuzo

Perhaps you can experience the next one on Aug. 1, 2008 in one of the following locations: Nunavut, Greenland, Siberia, Mongolia and China (source).Hmmmm....that's not a bad idea. (more photos here)

After my last trip to West Africa, I wrote an article about my travels (which was published last summer in a quarterly periodical, Pulse, produced by Gay Men of African Descent). I even mention it in my bio page. Well, since a year has past, I figure I should finally post the essay on my site. As I begin to feel more and more acclimated here, and as I ponder the meaning of home, the significance of my first journey increases. Enjoy!

A Journey of My Own Choosing

The sun was shining, breezes were blowing, and the waves were crashing on the shore. I walked toward the water, away from my friends, stepping into full consciousness that this was the moment I had created for myself. Looking out across the water, I allowed all the thoughts and feelings to rise to the surface: the realization of who I was, based on my history and actions…based on my heritage. Long ago my own ancestors were taken from these very shores, on a journey not of their choosing, to a new world of struggle and suffering, of endurance and triumph over adversity. And I had chosen to return, several generations later, a son coming home to the land of his ancestors.

Traveling to Africa has been a desire of mine for several years. I’ve known for some time that I must go and “see for myself” the land and the people about which so much has…and has not…been written. I wanted my own sensory experience of it, slashing through all of the media images, literary references and cultural stereotypes of the continent. I frequently retell the experience of seeing my first African film when I was much younger. The film opened up with a wide shot of a sprawling African metropolis, with cars hurriedly rushing by crowds of pedestrians and tall buildings, on their way to take care of the business of the day. It was a simple and beautiful, establishing shot. Yet for a few seconds I was startled by the image. It was not that I didn’t know, intellectually, that there were big cities in Africa; it was that I had never seen them in film. The few images I had actually seen were largely of the African countryside, and interior shots of African political officials in the news (when Africa makes the news). It was a revealing moment for me, one of those that helped to formulate my desire to supplement my intellectual understanding with tangible experience.

My choice of where (and when) to go on this vast continent of thousands of cultures was influenced by my own experience studying African spirituality (specifically of the Dagara people of Burkina Faso) and by the fact that a good friend had spent the majority of the past few years in Ghana. Since Ghana is bordered by Burkina Faso to the north, it felt as though my ancestors were clearly indicating in which region I should begin my exploration.

Upon exiting the airport in Accra...(see full text here)

Just got back a couple of days ago. I spent a week in the Windy City enjoying the company of friends, old and new. The old and dear friend I stayed with did not have internet access. It was like living in the 20th century! LOL. I went to the Chicago Public Library nearby a coouple of times, but when you're spoiled with a DSL connection at home, it's just too much effort. :-) (I will face this situation again when I soon return to Ghana.) This is the journal entry I wrote, but did not post, last Thursday:

It feels good to be here. Chicago is one of those cities in which I have previously lived that, I feel, always welcomes me back. A feeling that tells me that I could, if I so choose, call this place home again. As I noted in my reflections on LeRoy, there is a grounded, down-to-earth quality that I always feel and appreciate here...in the people and the places. Whenever I return, I primarily hang out with friends. One of the joys of traveling to me is to connect with local folks and experience their locale from their perspective, doing some of the things they do and enjoy about the place in which they live. That is the way I enjoy getting a feel for a place. So I'm just chilling here for a few days. And the weather is actually great, in the 60s today. (And the city is full of joyous energy, as the White Sox won the world series, the first time in over 80 years.)

The weather remained stellar throughout my visit, which enhanced my appreciation of the city's beauty. One of the things that I forgot is how striking the city is visually. It must be one of the best designed and planned of cities, as it is laid out in such a way that you really get a chance to see and appreciate the reknowned Chicago architecture. Driving around the city, I had to catch my breath a couple of times as I came across views of beautiful buildings against a gorgeous blue sky with fluffy white clouds. The ride up and down Lake Shore Drive, viewing the buildings against the sky on a clear day, is spectacular; matched only by the entirely different and equally breathtaking view of that drive at night, seeing the city's buildings lit up against the night sky. That same sense of beauty is found in many of the city's neighborhoods, as well. (I spent most of my time there on the city's South Side.)

My kind of town, Chicago is one of those cities to which I intend to return frequently throughout my life.

Below are a few pictures I took at the Millions More March. My own participation this year was much more ambivalent than it was 10 years ago at the Million Man March. It just didn't call to me as much as the excitement about the first march did. (My photographs aren't even inspiring, LOL. See great photos from the March at Brothalauva Cafe.) Back then, I marched with the LGBT group as we made a statement about visibility and inclusion. This year I arrived later in the afternoon (after doing some volunteer work earlier in the day) mainly to meet some friends who were already down there. The difference this year, however, was that there was supposed to be a representative of the National Black Justice Coalition (NBJC) addressing the crowd, in what would have been a major step forward in healing many of the wounds homophobia has inflicted in the Black community. What would have been...

NBJC's representative, however, Keith Boykin, was prevented from speaking at the March at the last minute...literally. There is much commentary (see, e.g., Pam's House Blend and Sex and the Second City) on Black LGBT participation in this year's March. I was just gonna post my pics, but then I had a couple of things I thought I'd share (then I went on a bit). :-) I have to disagree with Terrence's view at The Republic of T (though I usually share his political perspective) in which he concludes, as he has before,

So, why even bother trying to make inroads into black communities where we, as black gay people, are not welcome or wanted? Sometimes it turns out that home was never really home to begin with.

This notion of "coming home," which we invoke often, while excellent and poetic, I just don't think applies to most Black gays and lesbians. I think most of us have not "left home" but are integral parts of the Black community (as teachers, doctors, lawyers, business owners, etc.), working to "uplift the race" like a lot of other Black folks. Many of us, however, are home in silence, not sharing ourselves fully, for the reality of possible persecution or alienation at home is real should we choose to do so. To me, the point of a speaker at the March was not to say "We're coming home?" but rather to let folks know we are here (home), we are and always have been with you, and we always will be. (Indeed, we are you.) I think the point is telling our community "Hey, you know what, I'm working to improve our people's lives, too, so instead of bashing me because of who I love, why don't you take that energy and help me save that brother or sister on the street, or help me clean up this school, or help me teach these children over here to read." Kinda like what the theme of the March was supposed to be...only for real: unity.

This point was beautifully articulated in Keith's undelivered address:

And finally, I want you to know that we are your brothers and sons and fathers. We are your sisters and daughters and mothers. And we are your cousins and nieces and nephews as well. We cannot separate ourselves from the larger Black family because we are an integral part of the Black family. We raise our families, we send money to our nephews, and yes we sing in the choir as well.

...

When Black people were forced to sit in the back of the bus, Black gay people were forced to sit in the back of the bus. When Black people could not vote, Black lesbians could not vote. And when Black people are beaten and abused by the police, Black bisexuals are beaten and abused by the police.

We share the same goals and aspirations as the rest of the Black community, but none of us can accomplish those goals without unity and courage.
(click here for complete address)

To me, it's simply sad that the attendees did not get to hear this speech. Sad, not only because it would have been an opportunity to open up positive dialogue about inclusion and acceptance in our community, but also because the very act of blocking its delivery was an act of smallness and disunity amongst those who are our so-called leaders.

[Note: We could also use more unity within the Black LGBT/SGL community as well. I applaud and admire Keith's courage and willingness to address the gathering, standing as one voice among a million, adressing issues many find uncomfortable. And, I also applaud Cleo Manago who actually did address the gathering as a same-gender-loving man of African descent. (A label distinction which I ultimately find more divisive than useful. I'll post something about that at another time.)]

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Maybe we should take a different approach. I think we should have had a plan to bum rush the stage if we were not allowed to address our people. I'm not talking about violence, but simply a planned and coordinated effort to get what we wanted (and which was agreed to) no matter what. Tell the press it's going to happen beforehand, and then proceed to the podium at a predetermined time. Now, perhaps folks would have gotten arrested and not allowed to speak anyway, yet as history has shown us, civil disobedience is often the only way some folks are moved. Maybe we shouldn't just turn around and go home because they tell us we can't play. We've got to stop letting a handful of bigots set the tone of the dialogue. (In fact, judging from Cleo's reflections regarding the response he recceived after giving his address, the bigots are fewer than the open hearts.) Farrakhan, himself, hinted at this in his speech (perrhaps unknowingly), when he referred to one US president who told civil rights leaders to force him to take action which he was inclined to take, because a simple request could not be granted because of the politics of those around him. If National Black Justice Coalition leaders believe, as they have stated, that Farrakhan has shifted in his position and is now open to hearing the voice of Black LGBTs, then perhaps it is time to force him to take action in that regard (whether or not his shift in position is genuine). Maybe our movement for civil rights is mired in too much civility.