I think you know deep down in your soul that
Something, something just ain’t right.
You don’t want to be just well adjusted to injustice
And well adapted to indifference. You want to be
A person with integrity who leaves a mark on the world.
People can say when you go that you left the world
Just a little better than you found it. I understand. I want
To be like that too.”
In September 2012, I was a junior in college and just beginning to ask myself some hard questions about my identity and place in society. Words like “deconstructing” and “decolonizing” come to mind, but if I’m being real, I wasn’t even at that level yet. I was, however, intrigued enough to sign up for an “Intro to Reconciliation Studies” course taught by a man named Curtiss Paul DeYoung. At this time, Curtiss was a leading voice and revered scholar in the world of reconciliation studies (*he still is). He’d authored many books, worked in prestigious positions, and was a beloved friend of Alan Bosak and the late Desmond Tutu. Just to finish painting the picture, the guy came to teach classes everyday in a suit and tie with Black “Chuck T” converse hightops for shoes. Always in the black Chuck T’s. Legend. Who wouldn’t want to learn from this guy?
Plot twist.
I skipped the first day of Curtiss DeYoung’s class to go to an album release party. Brother Ali has just dropped his “Mourning in America – Dreaming in Color” album and my big brother and I went down to the record shop to be some of the first ears to hear it. From the standpoint of being a student of reconciliation, I believe I made the right choice that day. Maybe you’re thinking that’s biased, but let me tell you, Curtiss agrees with me. I know so, because he still has the signed copy of the album that we also picked up for him that day. True story.
At this moment, I invite you to listen to the song, “Letter to my Countrymen” by Brother Ali from the “Mourning in America – Dreaming in Color” album. It’s the first song on the album and about 4 minutes long. I promise that it will be 4 minutes well spent. Take your time with it. Run it back a few times. I’ll see you on the other side.
For those who had the time to listen, thank you. Means a lot. For those who didn’t, no sweat, you can google the lyrics up online and breeze through em if you want.
If you listened to the song all the way through, you might have noticed that it’s Cornel West’s voice at the end of the song. Y’all know Doc, he’s an epic dood with about a million heavy hitting quotes. Here’s just one of them…
“The condition of truth is to allow the voice of suffering to speak”.
-Dr. Cornel West
I love that quote, however I would just like to add, “…or sing”, to the end of it. My experience has taught me that reconciliation begins when the voice of suffering is allowed to speak… or rhyme, or scream, or spit, or sing.
So here’s my piece.
Who or what has most shaped my understanding of reconciliation? Musicians. Particularly the ones who channel the voice of suffering in the most raw and yet eloquent of ways. Rap (rhythm and poetry) music, originating from an oppressed community of color entrenched in a freedom struggle, is especially known for this. KRS-One, a founding father of rap music, wrote the song, “Sound of the Police” in 1990. Through it, he laments the suffering brought about by police brutality and criminalization of black and brown bodies. That song is 32 years old y’all. Imagine if the masses (particularly white folks in America) could have heard that song, and actually listened to it not just with their ears, but with their hearts. Derek Chauvin would have been 15 years old when KRS-One’s “Sound of the Police” was released. Imagine.
It’s not as if the truth isn’t being spoken, it’s just if we are ready to listen. Music has provided me access to listen to the voices of suffering from communities all over the world, and by that, it’s been the one thing that has most fundamentally shaped my understanding of reconciliation.
For the record, I’d call myself a student of Brother Ali the same way I am a student of Curtiss DeYoung. The reality is there are so many people via so many mediums who have also found creative and beautiful ways to share stories that shed light to suffering, and that’s a good thing. The truth has just always hit me different when there’s some bass behind it.
Looking to add some tracks to your playlist?
- Artist – “Song”
- Brother Ali – “Travelers” – “Tight Rope” – “Us” – “My Beloved” – “Uncle Sam Goddamn”
- KRS-One – “Sound of the Police”
- Black Thought – “I’m not Crazy (First Contact)”
- Bambu – “Misused”
- Common – “Black America Again”
- Nahko and Medicine for the People – “My Country” – “Love Letters to God”
- Christy Moore – “Natives”
- U2 – “In the Name of Love” – “Sunday Bloody Sunday”
5 comments
So Jesse, I’m an older white Englishwoman and I tried listening to “Letter to my countrymen” and the experience taught me something really important. I, too, love music and feel it takes us straight to the heart of matters. In my case, it’s classical choral stuff. We use the same muscles for singing as we use for screaming (lamenting, complaining, begging for help….) However, I couldn’t catch the words and I wasn’t keen on the melody so I went and looked up the lyrics and then I began to understand, though only as a privileged person who’s never had to scream about this level of injustice for myself. My choice of music shows my culture, and since it’s different from yours I need to approach the possibility of relationship by recognising our mutual humanity, by asking about the things I don’t understand and taking the trouble to listen, using my curiosity. The thing is, if the music had been sending a hateful message, I might have given up trying to understand, but that would probably have been the very point at which I needed to make a greater effort to see what was behind it….sorry if this is all blindingly obvious, but I wanted to thank you for making me take the trouble….
Jesse, thank you for sharing this. I confess that I am unfamiliar with this particular genre of music, but know the power of music to speak to our hearts in profound ways. You have led me to start to think about how music can be used as a tool of reconciliation – or perhaps even an awareness making tool to help bring people to a place of reconciliation. I look forward to learning from you.
Hello, Lin Preiss here (see above comment from Jer). Jesse, I am not going to say much here as all I know is your piece is sitting like a ball of energy bouncing between my mind and heart. And i have a new playlist I want to sit with for a little while. I am not fluent in this world of music, but know the power of image, body (rhythm, movement, dance) and creative word to speak deeper truths than can be shared in text alone. I hear your passion and am inspired. What has this being a student of Brother Ali (and Curtiss DeYoung) provided as entrance into communities of reconciliation as well as barriers of culture/misunderstanding/representation?
Jesse. The artists are the prophets inviting us through their mediums to gaze honestly at what is and imagine what could be. Thank you for the invitation to peer through the portals of the artisans and see the world that could be. I hope that you and Lin Preiss can explore these ideas in more detail as her passion is to intersect restorative theology with art in ways that catalyze embodied repair.
Jesse – Thank you for sharing a bit of your journey and for the playlist! I appreciate your reminder to tune our ears and to really listen, especially to the creative voices speaking out.