There is a heaviness to the days passing. A longing, a deep grief. A huge portion of the American people are living in constant fear and people are being killed for practicing their civil rights. I write as an angry white person devastated that my home country is rejecting the very principles it was founded upon.
Immigrants are inherently part of America’s creation, so the infiltration ofU.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement into our villages and cities with the goal of deporting so called “criminals” is contradictory to once very strongly held values.
I recognize that I live with an extreme level of privilege to be able to say that my routine and sense of normalcy have continued in the midst of this ICE era.
Given this immense privilege I hold, I have been trying to live into the ideology that joy is the loudest form of resistance. A form of joy I find particularly moving is music. Music is a uniquely universal tool, uniting the world much more efficiently than language. There is something incredibly raw about music; it reaches the deepest of human truths with a poignancy so piercing. Musicians have been pushing back against harmful narratives for centuries, perhaps since the beginning of human existence.
African American singer Nina Simone directly addressed political injustices during the civil rights movement. One of Simone’s most famous songs is “Mississippi Goddam,” a song in response to racialized violence.
In the song she directly names and mourns four girls killed in a white supremacy bombing as well as the assassination of both Martin Luther King Jr. and Medgar Evers. The jazzy upbeat style of music Simone uses brings joy into a song otherwise completely devastating.
I think perhaps this is an act of protest in itself. It is a refusal to give into the narrative that the oppressed become silenced with grief. “Mississipi Goddam” was banned in several southern states, which proves its effective resistance.
On Sunday, Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, or Bad Bunny, made history as the first person to perform a halftime show completely in Spanish. Ocasio’s performance was an act of rejection of the hatred and showed incredible resilience. I was struck by the beauty of the testimony Ocasio gave to his Puerto Rican heritage.
Though I enjoyed the musical aspect of the show thoroughly, I appreciated even more the broader statement the show made. In the midst of America’s current leadership and rise of ICE, Ocasio concluded his set with the quote: “God bless America,” and then named all of the countries in Central, North and South America.
This was a brilliant way to challenge the dominant narrative of who Americans are. The nods to Puerto Rican culture and history woven into Ocasio’s musical set created a unique stage for cultural expression in a time when the country’s leadership is actively forcing violence on any culture outside of a small category of vaguely white.
Simone and Ocasio inspire me to embrace places in my life where I can experience joy and reject grief becoming compliance. Joy not only connects us together but allows us to learn from each other. On the jumbotron, Ocasio displayed the phrase: “The only thing more powerful than hate is love,” a phrase King used in the ’60s. This phrase directly correlates the idea of using joy as resistance.
On Feb. 7, I attended a protest organized by Mennonite Action Michiana demanding that Target stop complying with ICE. Target did not allow us on their property, so we stood directly next door at Rue 21. I recall around 60 of us there, mostly white Mennonites. We sang hymns from the Mennonite hymnal and we shouted from deep within our bones. We also sang two songs that originated in Minneapolis out of protest movements. This was one of the most powerful parts of the protest as it connected our group of advocates to a larger movement.
One of the songs originating from Minneapolis that we sang, titled “We Are Here,” really stuck with me. The lyrics are, “We are here with our (insert word), our love for each other will carry us through.” The song leader prompted us to insert the words courage, anger, grief and hope. I felt myself reaching the heart of the emotions I feel frequently. My eyes watered and my voice got louder.
Music is frequently used as a form of protest even when not explicitly sung at a physical protest.
As protest songs from Minneapolis spread across the country I think of the power musicians like Simone and Ocasio are able to leverage in a time where many feel hopeless. As a musician myself, I am inspired to keep using my skills to advocate and to foster joy and to hopefully, one song at a time, unite communities.
Lucca is a junior social work major with minors in English and music. She spends much of her free time in the music center in choir and orchestra rehearsals.
