To whom it may concern (which is, to all)
As I wake up on the morning of Black Out Tuesday, I can’t help but feel anxious, nervous, and slightly hopeful to see what this day might bring. There is this confusing balance black people have had to deal with recently: on the one hand, staying informed and on top of what’s going on, while on the other hand, having to step away as the disturbing, painful and heavy footage from across the globe takes a toll on our mental health and emotional well-being. And yet personally, there is still (always) a constant feeling to do more, to do better. So I decided to write.
I’ve always been a writer, I’ve realised — I feel more comfortable typing than speaking in general. But seeing all these amazing articles, posters, quotes and more only made me think ‘What can I add? What more can I do? How else can I inspire people?’.
What can I say that hasn’t already been said, again and again? And then I realised; there’s no perfect way to talk about this. No perfect speech that says everything that needs to be said (although I have heard a few lately that come very close). All I can do is tell a story to educate, inspire, and hopefully put others into action. So here it goes.
I’ve been fortunate enough to work in big music companies and to have been surrounded by inspiring execs in the music industry. Stepping into the UK music industry as a Ghanaian woman born and raised in the Netherlands, I was in awe; there were black people everywhere — well, at least when you look at junior-level jobs (although that’s a discussion for another time). It made me think I had a chance, a place to potentially succeed. It still does.
There was one thing, however, that never changed; no matter what social gathering I was in — in the cafeteria, in company-wide meetings, at conferences, parties, you name it — black people were always sitting together. Just like in high school. And why is that? How come I felt more comfortable being surrounded by black people, people I had never even spoken to, than with colleagues I talked to every day? What was and is the disconnect between black and (non-black or) white colleagues?
The answer, I feel, is quite simple: they often just can’t relate. And when you can’t relate, it’s easier to not understand. To not understand experiences, jokes and references. To not understand microaggressions, or feeling like a token; feeling like you don’t belong, not really. To not understand that even if you are a black person, thriving in a predominantly white space, you still feel like there is a gap you just can’t get across to feel equal — one that seems invisible to white people.
See, black people have had to adapt. They’ve had to work extremely hard to force themselves to be present in these white spaces, simply to be heard. To be part of the conversation. White people have the luxury, the privilege to just be, and get the same results.
Not being able to relate, however, shouldn’t give you an excuse to not understand. Just because you don’t know what it feels like, doesn’t mean you can’t understand that it’s wrong. Just because you haven’t experienced racism, doesn’t mean you can’t call it out amongst your friends, family members, and colleagues.
Nothing that I said above is or should be news to you, especially with what’s been happening over last week. I’m positive you all see and feel the pain, rage, discomfort and injustice. I’m glad our industry is stepping up publicly and taking a day to focus on it, to focus on how we can be better. But what happens on Wednesday, or next week? What happens when the four officers finally get charged based on their disgusting actions that led to the murder of an innocent man? What happens when (and dear God not if) justice finally gets served?
It’s so easy to fall back into a routine, so how do we continue, as an industry so very dependent on black creators and black culture, to work on having justice served and making black people feel equally important, every single day?
I might not have the answers, but there are dozens and dozens of ways to search for these answers yourself. These ways or resources can help you educate and inspire others. They can give you insight on actions you can take to make black people feel equal, and feel like they matter. I might not have the answers, but I’ve still given it a try down below.
Educate.
The number of documentaries, books, TV series, podcasts, and blogs about the history of racism, how it manifests and how it’s prominent in our day-to-day lives are countless. So please, buy a book. Watch that 50-minute documentary. Read that article, and then read another one next week. Keep informing yourself, so that it becomes so apparent and obvious in your eyes, you no longer have to ask others “But why is that?”; so that you will no longer apathetically look away.
Also, note that it’s not your black friend’s job to directly educate you on what is going on or how you can be better. Although well-intended, I’m sure, it is frankly exhausting and frustrating. We all have access to the same internet.
Speak up.
It’s essential, essential to influence your circles. It is crucial to call out your friends on the slightly off-hand comments they make, to call out the stereotypical jokes your uncles laugh about at parties or the appropriation your teammates do at events. This doesn’t only go for white people; there is a lot of anti-blackness rooted in Asian and Latin culture, too. Be actively aware and speak out, every single time. We as black people have tried, for years we have tried. But we cannot do this alone.
Change the game.
To everyone with even a little bit of power: do something to level the playing ground. To HR and hiring agencies — enforce policies to make sure black people grow within your system; to not have them get stuck at mid-level positions until they get too tired of fighting to get to the top.
To A&Rs (records and publishing) interconnected with black artists or black-influenced music — look for those songwriters that tell you those experiences in their own words. To managers building teams around your artists, make sure the lawyers, booking agents, record labels and publishers understand them, look like them, listen to them, fight for them.
To the people working in marketing, brands, sponsorships — be actively aware of each message you send out. Each decision you make in that meeting room should not only be representative of the black artist you represent or the black audience you cater to, but should be made with consciousness — especially in relation to the partners you’re working with. Are the brands you work with active in social justice? Have your media partners worked hard in levelling the playing field in their sector? Would they fight for your artists?
The above are just examples, there are so many other divisions in the industry that can make a difference. And as said before, there are tons of different ways to get involved, and especially now, the internet is pouring over in hundreds of ways to change your own little world.
Now is the time to act; to reinforce those ideas of ‘community’ we’ve been declaring in our mission statements and visions. Now is the time to actively incorporate social and racial justice activities on a monthly, quarterly, yearly basis, not just during Black History Month. To raise awareness in how to change your local community, how to raise future music industry execs of colour, how to work together with your local politicians to make sure your black employees’ voices are heard.
We thankfully aren’t where we were before, but we can always, always, strive to do better.
Vivian.
Songkicker, music enthusiast at heart — but before anything else, a Black woman.
