“Although the connection that American music and dance has to African is tangible, I quickly learned that my innocent assumptions of camaraderie among black people living in the diaspora based on our shared race were limited. I remain alert to opportunities that would create a working artistic pan-Africanism. I learned that our connection lies within our shared stories and migration. To pursue the knowledge that freed me of naivete by educating myself in our common history and circumstances is the tool that helps me build community. It is with this foundational experience that I struggle for, and value the potential power of working together as diasporic Africans.
“Africa’s contours are both political and personal. The contours are infinitely expansive, formed by issues of Blackness, justice, Otherness, juxtaposed with a strong sense of belonging, resilience and community. On a personal level, I know I will never fully understand the depths of Africa’s gravid waters. I crave its ambience to fill me when I am empty. It stirs me up, unexpectedly lighting a spark in me, reminding me of my rich Africanness. Politically, Africa’s vastness makes it universal. It is full of irony, tainted and innocent, true in its purity yet highly corruptible. It is subjected to being robbed of its resources and left to starve as is reflected in its art. Africa is easily forgotten, often under-rated, yet it is a reflection of its enduring resilience, rearing itself into the current popular culture via sly appropriation. To me African art is so powerful in its’ specificity and meaning, that even while skimming its’ surface, I gain a wealth of information.
“Africa is what I need it to be when I need it. Its contours shift relative to my mood. Africa is personal, it moves me and holds me. It is the essence of my being, yet it often leaves me feeling empty. I love it. I miss it and long for it. Tiring of my constant desire, I forget it. This is invariably and quickly followed by a return to nostalgia. It is my all, yet leaves me empty.
“My past, its people and places, become idealized by their absence. Sensing the distance more profoundly creates a chasm that pulls me from my birthplace. I tend to move back and forth, between here and my homeland. Yet I often chose my first home rather than my comfort here. This leads to feelings of homelessness that are quite often assuaged by the sense of community created by those who dance together. Studying, teaching, and organizing African artists and the various communities that support the workshops and performances, has significantly shaped my American experience. They are giving me a home away from home. It is evident that even for American patrons and participants of African dance, it fills a need and facilitates a “coming home”. Their sense of longing, a thirst that is fulfilled through the carefully developed ancient rhythms and movements of Africa, reflect my own.”