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Black
Music Month
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“We
have fallen into a place where everything is music”
- Rumi
It
is the air that I breathe. The sun in my voice. The
ounce in my bounce. It
is mixed in my essence and projected through my nur.
It is the spirits of my ancestors encapsulated in words
and notes. Music
is everything. La musica es todo.
I was
born and raised in South Central L.A, but my roots run deep in
Belize and Honduras. Mariachi,
Punta Rock, Soca, Dancehall, Calypso and Reggae were the first
genres of music that fed my soul.
I would lose myself to the sweet melodies, beats and
rhythms s if they were words spoken from the Creator.
This newfound love would connect
my spirit to a world that I would never be able to let go of,
a world where my first Spanish lesson came from the sounds of
a mariachi band serenading me out of my sleep (a family
birthday tradition). A
world where I learned to “whine up meh waiss” under the
instruction of Lord Rahburn’s punta beat.
A world where Bob Marley became my first history
teacher, dropping madd Babylon knowledge that I didn’t quite
comprehend then, but do now.
A world where Aretha Franklin taught me love’s first
lesson: respect.
In this world I was able to travel
without movement. I was given the power to glide through
different lands, times, and spaces that were just a needle
drop/cassette pop away. That
piece of wax or plastic was like having a personal genie that
granted me an all-expense paid trip around the world. Through those magical notes, I learned more about
people, their diverse backgrounds, rituals, and religions than
I could have ever imagined.
I began to realize that music was the voice of the
people, and without that voice, life as we know it would be
drastically different.
Those days nurtured my spirit, broadened my horizons
and helped me to understand the importance of looking beyond
the illusions of reality.
Music helped me to find truth in an otherwise
untruthful world.
Now I sit here bumping anything from Fela
Kuti to Cyndi Lauper, reminiscing
about the good ole days (80’s) of real Hip Hop, when Public
Enemy and Rakim conquered my heart, wishing I could still be
my ex-boyfriend’s Tenderoni,
but realizing that he was my X
Factor and I need to move on, laughing at my best friend
when she used to think that she was Helluva,
and knowing that once in awhile I may get caught up in the Purple
Rain, but that I
should always love myself like India.Arie said to do.
Whew! You
see what music does to me.
It gives me the freedom I need to express myself.
It also makes me see how real the power of it is.
It has brought my family together, told me where I came
from, healed my broken heart(s), and filled my cipher with joy
and peace. It has moved me like Dead Prez’s song, “i’m a african,”
or Creed’s “With Arm’s
Wide Open.” Songs
like these have changed my perspective on life, because
without those notes to guide me through the difficult times, I
do not think I would have made it this far.
Music is my prayer. La musica es mi oracion.
In light of all the tragedies enveloping
the world, music has proven to be my salvation.
All I do is turn on a jam like Kem’s “You Are,”
and wait for that second when music and mind meet to become
one with my universe. Last
night a D.J saved my life.
Scratch that… the music did.
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