By Clarence White
Years ago, I attended a Black Lives Matter march. It was a rally held at the intersection of University and Snelling Avenues. It was a sea of lovely people, a wave of energy and a cacophony melded into a single voice for justice. What struck me was that this space was opposite of a Trump rally. Not opposite because it was Black people instead of white. It was opposite because instead of just a sea of mostly white people with an occasional speck of color, this gathering for justice was attended by every category of person. The opposite of supremacy. The opposite of largely racially and class segregated space. The opposite of the hubris that had been cooking in this pot of unmelted ingredients of American stew.
What is noteworthy is that this gathering, like so much of the vocal support for the fight against racial violence, had a strong Asian presence. We were standing in solidarity.
It is a solidarity that exists beyond memories of Vincent Chin or Fong Lee. It is so many things, like maybe the pain of the failed strategy of becoming a model minority, or being invalidated to death, having to live up to the image of Joy Luck Club or The Cosby Show. There is a lie in there, somewhere. Maybe it is all a lie. That lie is killing us.
Someone has an answer. There are as many answers as there are stories as there are lives lost by every new exclusion act or reinvention of Jim Crow.
This year, we have been fortunate to have been approached by several people who want to engage in projects and serieses on Afro-Asian solidarity. Early in the year, Rebecca Nichloson approached the East Side Freedom library with a timely idea. Her idea was to gather Asian American writers and African American writers in a communal experience because she wanted to create a space for these artists in this time of pandemic as a healing exercise and response to “the violence being directed toward Asian Americans and the African American community during this pandemic.”
The proposition was that a group of writers would come together, virtually, in workshop as an exercise in both solidarity and creative artistry. Soon after her proposed effort, we became public witnesses to the murder of George Floyd. Both the atmosphere and moods shifted. Rebecca realized the workshop had to shift as well.
The shift was not that substantial. What underlies the first premise is the same. The response was to a persistent white supremacy on which our society continues to build–build on stolen land and brown bodies never compensated or cared for enough to keep their bones from forming the foundation for the more conspicuous society.
This is what birthed the Kaleidoscope Project. After two workshop sessions, each participant created that is nothing less than truth-telling of the intensity of our times.
What they created can be seen in two performances archived on the East Side Freedom Library YouTube channel. Over the next many weeks, we will be sharing the pieces here our the East Side Freedom Library blog space.
These works and words are stunning. It is a testament to the collaboration. It is a testament to the solidarity for the cause of justice for peoples whose skins are in shades of brown, living in the United States. It is a testament to the power of what is coming out of today’s uprising. It speaks a little more truth into our society’s story.
The writers of this project are May Lee-Yang, Hawona Sullivan Janzen, Julia Gay, Ed Bok Lee, Ashawnti Sakina Ford, Patti Kmeya, Atlese Robinson, Sunny Thao, and project creator Rebecca Nichloson. I hope you can follow the contributions of this first cohort of this project. This is not the start of a conversation. It is certainly not the end of neither the conversation nor the Kaleidoscope project.