"People can dance and sing and then it is only later that they realize what the song was talking about, that it had a deeper meaning. Music is very powerful that way." ~Femi Kuti
Music
is very powerful...and none more so than Black Music.
This is particularly true when one considers the historical legacy of African-descended peoples in America. For as Amiri Baraka beautifully demonstrated in his groundbreaking work Blues People: Negro Music in White America, it is not possible to fully appreciate Black music without first understanding the complex, comprehensive culture of Black people.
Moreover, music is at the very core of Black world culture.
Considered in this context, Black music, then, becomes a critical piece--a link, if you will--in the five centuries-long chain of events that culminated in the transition of a people...from African to African American.
Better yet, it is a thread that connects the remnants of the resplendent, diverse quilt that is the African Diaspora.
As our newly departed, brilliant ancestor
Gil Scott-Heron wrote in the introduction to his poetry collection,
Now and Then, "Black Americans are now a tremendously diverse essence of all the places we've come from and the music and rhythms we brought with us."
Black Music Month (BMM) was created, thirty-two years ago, to celebrate this legacy...and to ensure the continued preservation and transmission of this aspect of the African American experience and, indeed, that of the global Black experience. And although we might not often think of BMM in such terms, doing so makes its observance political...and for some, uncomfortable.
Perhaps this explains the Obama Administration's otherwise inexplicable aversion to publicly celebrating Black Music Month in the White House.
Even more confusing is the President's apparent antipathy for the Black Music Month moniker itself, and his decision to amend it, dubbing it African-American Music Appreciation Month (AAMAM) in the two
proclamations he has quietly issued during his term as President of the United States (POTUS).
Until recently, even I had never considered the politics of BMM, but that soon changed.
My research took this turn soon after I did a Google search for the Obama Black Music Month proclamation. Long story short: There was none to be found, at least not with those search terms (but for those instances when media outlets automatically bill it as such, as did
NewsOne in 2010).
And by this time, it was mid-June, as it is now.
I then went directly to the source: Dyana Williams, my fellow Temple University alumnus, known far and wide as the "Mother of Black Music Month," and even she had no knowledge of any proclamation at that time. As it were, Williams, a Democrat and fervent Obama supporter, shared that she was "profoundly disappointed and saddened."
She indicated that every effort had been made to convince the Obama administration to host a BMM reception to recognize Black music for what it is--a multibillion dollar industry and one of America's leading exports...but they declined.
Mind you, this is no small thing at a time when American exports--besides munitions--are few and far between.
Imagine my surprise.
Seeking clarification on this matter, I spoke to Cory Ealons, former White House Director of African American Media, who directed me to the AAMAM proclamation on the White House website.
During a very tense conversation, Ealons informed me that their approach to music appreciation is "like McDonalds'" (365Black): they appreciate all music, all the time...and, as it were, at that time, there would be no BMM celebration in the White House.
I was stunned. America's first Black POTUS would not be hosting a celebration of Black Music Month.
It didn't help when I learned, a few days later, of the White House reception observing the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall Uprising, marking the beginning of the gay rights movement...and Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) Pride Month. At the time, Shin Inouye, a White House spokesperson,
described the "long-planned event" as "a chance for the White House to recognize the accomplishments" of LGBT Americans.
Not that this is a bad thing...but why couldn't America's first Black President do the same thing for BMM?
After the LGBT event, Joe Solmonese of Human Rights Campaign, and an often fierce Obama critic, said of the POTUS: "He reminded us to continue to hold him accountable...There certainly was the appropriate and inspiring acknowledgment that he made of what this community has been through...that the work continues, that the commitment is still there...It's important for people to be reassured by the president."
Indeed.
By now, some are probably wondering why this is important; and others, no doubt, will argue that the proclamations are enough. Besides which, they reason, there are Black musicians performing in the Obama White House all the time, most recently Common, who the administration even refused to un-invite, in the face of Right Wing criticism.
But, here's the thing. By callously disregarding and, some would argue, disrespecting the 32 year legacy of this beautiful annual tribute to Black music, our first Black POTUS runs the risk of diminishing a decades-old celebration of Black culture.
Of course, the Presidential proclamations are noteworthy, but--as will be discussed herein--to change the name from BMM to AAMAM is, at best, a revisionist approach to American history.
And speaking of proclamations, as Kevin Lewis, White House Director of African American Media, assured me, President Obama recently issued the
2011 AAMAM proclamation. At press time, however, there was no word of any planned Presidential ceremony...but, as they say, hope springs eternal.
For without the bells and whistles of an attendant White House reception, most presidential proclamations go largely unnoticed. It is like the tree that falls in the forest when there is no one around. Does it make a sound?
And it's not that I don't appreciate performances by musical icons like Sweet Honey in the Rock, and Stevie Wonder, among others, all of whom I love. Not to mention the recent White House Motown Tribute during this year's Black History Month...but for several reasons I'm ambivalent about it.
Sure, I realize that no other POTUS has invited so many African American entertainers to the White House, but that's not the point. It's easy to invite Black people in to sing. Indeed, it is a time-honored American tradition.
My concerns, however, are more forward-looking.
Primary among them is the fact that Barack Obama, to date, is the first POTUS not to hold (or attend) a public BMM celebration in the White House, since Jimmy Carter began the tradition in 1979.
And, bear in mind, it was no easy road getting to the point where each successive POTUS recognized and celebrated BMM each June, which I chronicled in my
article, "Black Music Month at 30: A Cultural Retrospective."
Not that I'm averse to musical tributes during Black History Month. I just worry that, if we're not careful, Black Music Month might, ironically--in the face of the first Black POTUS's continued "shade" for it--be rendered redundant.
More, for President Obama to single-handedly change the name to AAMAM--via a presidential amendment, of sorts--is to ignore the vast, rich contributions of the rest of the African Diaspora. At the same time, it papers over the fact that African Americans are a part of something far larger than the "American Experiment."
And from Bessie Smith, Louie Armstrong and Charlie Parker; to the Fisk Jubilee Singers, Mahalia Jackson and the Sounds of Blackness; to Michael Jackson, India.arie, and Anthony Hamilton; to Public Enemy, The Roots and Africa Bambaataa; to Bob Marley, Fela Kuti, and Miriam Makeba, the best of our musicians have always borne witness to our struggle.
This is why Black Music Month has become such a vital part of African American culture, acting as a bridge between the music of today and that of yesterday. A conservator, if you will.
And the same is needed in the policy arena...but I'll leave that discussion for another day. Suffice it to say, in this regard, BMM is only the tip of the metaphorical iceberg.
Perhaps Bob Marley said it best in his classic anthem, "No Woman, No Cry": "In this bright future, you can't forget your past."
The Daily Voice
