These times call for fierce artists!! *** A thank you to donors***
9:07 PM
It’s been 3 weeks since we performed my Ferguson musical United
We Dance to youth detained at the St. Louis City & County Detention
Centers. I want to thank each and every donor for supporting me and this
musical, as we dancers work to accelerate our nation’s great awakening.
Photo: The cast and I after our show.
Photo: The cast and I after our show.
The non-indictment of Darren Wilson only deepens the need
for unapologetic artists. We can no longer hide behind the docks of frothy
intellectualism and abstract ideals. Our work has got to have immediate impact
and make a difference. To rebuild our world, we need an absurd level of creativity
and self-confidence, that type of zeal to realize something you only find in
the obsessed minds of artists.
Your support has helped me be ever so fierce, and go where
African dance has rarely gone before, straight into the hearts of written-off,
rejected, and detained young people.
Entering the city detention center, I was surprised to find
the young people in head-to-toe prison garb. The 95% African American youth were
split between red and green uniforms, with the red kids segregated from the green
kids. The girls, who wore yellow, were segregated from the mostly male inmates.
“Wait, is that an 8 year old?!” Sadly, we spotted a kid no way over grade 3.
I was fretful that the musical’s plot of defeating oppressive
authority would totally get us kicked out. Seconds before performing, a very
concerned superintendent insisted I alter the closing act in which infuriated protesters
battle racist police, and defeat them. He didn’t want me to totally remove the
skit but add a politically correct speech at the end, highlighting the
importance of non-violence. Agreeing to this, the show went on.
As we chanted, danced, drummed, and got the young people answering
questions about our constitutional rights, I saw their spirits light up.
Hunched shoulders grew tall. Frowns curled into smiles, and inertia, wrought on
by their containment, turned to a palpable sense of movement. As we challenged
mind, body, and spirit, the musical’s interpretation of our first 10 amendments
was key. “Amendment 10 says the power is always vested in the people,” I
shouted. “You know what that means?” A girl piped up, “Yeah! We gotta stand up!”
My pride beaming, I turned over part of the show to drummer
Andrew, who revealed to me shortly before that he was a former detainee. I
implored him to tell his story during the show. “I was once in your shoes,” he
said, staring into the eyes of the boys and girls. “This is not the end of the
road for you. You will get out of here. But take control of your life. No one
will love you as much as you.”
Finally, at the end of our performances, a detained girl
stood up and asked me if she could audition for my company. I was overjoyed. “Of
course you can! In fact, you don’t have to audition, just get out of here and
get dancing.” Her personal revelation of
her potential was a clear act of defiance. That she is looking to African dance
to accelerate the reinvention of her life is incredible!
You, yes you made this a reality! My relentless quest to rip
off the limits of my work, and your brave belief made this happen. I’m very much encouraged, and I can’t wait to
do more. Thank you!
-- Malena
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