Anyone who’s read Keep on Pushing, this blog, my recent columns, or if you’ve read or heard any of the Keep on Pushing interviews, you know that in addition to collecting the origins of anti-oppression songs, traditional protest songs and contemporary topical songs of peace, justice and non-violent resistance, I’ve been in search of a new freedom anthem that concerns the survival of all the people–throughout the world. In a recent column (my Crawdaddy! column, Origin of Song has been appearing once a month on the Crawdaddy! blog at Paste Magazine), I suggested that “We Shall Overcome” the anthem that was, could serve as the anthem that is, and always shall be. But I changed my mind: “Ce N’est Pas Bon” by Mali’s Mariam and Amadou, is clear in its vision and intent, and you barely even have to know French to understand it. Hypocrisy, demagogy, and dictatorships are not good—nous n’en voulons pas. “Du respect pour le peuple, de l’amour pour le peuple, de la paix pour le peuple.” ” Ce N’est Pas Bon” is from Mariam and Amadou’s 2009 Nonesuch album, Welcome to Mali (which I was happy to discover was released on vinyl): C’est magnifique.
It should come as no surprise that both Harry Belafonte and Angela Davis figure prominently in the text of Keep on Pushing: both are great American activists, with essential ties to the Civil Rights and Black Power Movements and the political and cultural events that shaped their times—then and now. This week I had the good fortune to hear both of them speak in person: Monday, Harry Belafonte addressed an audience in discussion with Tim Robbins, at a benefit for the Actor’s Gang, a community theater organization that also works with the prison population. Then on Thursday evening, a talk between Angela Davis and Robin Levi was aimed at raising awareness about the prison industrial complex, specifically the California prison situation and the women in them. Held at the UCLA/Hammer Museum, the event coincided with Now Dig This, a survey of LA African American-themed art, which is the runaway hit and must-see show of the city-wide Pacific Standard Time art exhibit. As Davis explained, many of the visual artists on display were also “of the movement.”
Born and raised in Birmingham Alabama and educated at Brandeis University, while studying French and philosophy in Paris, Angela Davis learned of the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church that killed the four little girls with whom she’d been acquainted at home as a child. Continuing her studies at home and abroad, she eventually returned to UCLA and Los Angeles in 1969, a time where the heat was turned up high on the Black Panthers, as well as anyone else interested in the politics of revolution; the UC Board of Regents made it difficult for her to teach peacefully. When she was falsely accused of being an accomplice in the kidnapping and murder of Marin County Judge, Harold Haley, she served time in a California detention center. A nationwide, grassroots campaign to liberate her contributed to her being set free after 18 months and her ultimate acquittal. In 1972 the Rolling Stones recorded “Sweet Black Angel” about her on their epic set, Exile on Main Street; John and Yoko/Plastic Ono Band cut “Angela” on their Some Time in New York City album (the Stones sing “keep on pushing,” while John and Yoko tell her to “keep on moving”).
In the decades since she made headlines and the FBI’s most-wanted list, Davis has continued to work as an activist, educator and author. After teaching at one prestigious university after another, ironically, she returned to the UC system, to become a Distinguished Professor Emerita at UC Santa Cruz’s History of Consciousness Department. She also founded the prison abolition organization, Critical Resistance, “dedicated to opposing the expansion of the prison industrial complex.”
Harry Belafonte was inspired by the works of singer-actor Paul Robeson, who became a mentor. Early in his career as an actor turned singer, he reached out to foster a cross-cultural alliance with South African artists like Miriam Makeba and Hugh Masekela. On the Greenwich Village music scene, Belafonte had familiarized himself with traditional American folk songs through his work in the theater. In 1956, he released Calypso for which he turned to his Caribbean roots; it would sell in the millions. Choosing his roles and repertoire with precision, Belafonte was uncompromising as an artist which earned him a commanding reputation; he explained that sometimes it was difficult for his peers to metabolize his energies, though he didn’t mean for it to be this way. As it was, he was the obvious choice for Dr. King who needed his assistance organizing the entertainment communities and their financial resources for the Freedom/Civil Rights movement. Helping to organize the March on Washington, Belafonte became not only a confidante of Dr. King’s but he helped introduce African music to wider audiences. His relationship to South Africa and the struggle against apartheid grew deeper; he became an intimate of Nelson Mandela. From famine relief in Ethiopia to working with the incarcerated in the USA, Belafonte’s artistic gifts landed him on the frontlines of activism, which is where he’s lived for over 50 years.
The similarities between Belafonte’s and Davis’ stories are striking, a man and woman, two different generations, one a drop-out, the other highly educated. Yet both told stories of their mothers, young country girls who had to overcome resistance, obstacles and indignities to get themselves schooled, then went on to become fierce defenders of education. Today, both Belafonte and Davis are advocates for education, especially among prisoners—the people Davis calls “the other one percent”—who need to know their basic human rights. Education has also been proven as a solution to recidivism, and contributes to the greater good of humankind, inside and outside prison walls. Both activists also share a vocal and visible enthusiasm for the Occupy Wall Street Movement; both had visited the New York encampment, while Davis has visited and spoken at various Occupy demonstrations. She said that on November 2, the day the Port of Oakland was shut down, she joined somewhere between 10,000—to 15,000 people on the street, some of them from her own generation, all of them cheered by the protests led by the new generation of activists. As for President Obama, and to anyone who may be disillusioned by his performance after three years on the job, Davis offered a reminder.
“Let us not forget that moment,” she said, referring to election night, 2008, as well as the collective amnesia that afflicts American consciousness. “It was a triumphant moment,” she said. Reiterating that protest and pressure is an American tradition she added, “We cannot allow one of these Republicans to get elected,” she said. While Belafonte had a few things to say about Herman Cain…
I probably don’t need to add that Mr. Belafonte, 84, and Ms. Davis, 67, were both extraordinarily gracious while greeting their public after their formal presentations. They took time, meeting each gaze and responding to the individual requests of handshakes and photos with them. Their love for the people, has made them much beloved by the people. The warmth generated in the rooms they occupied in LA during the blustery last week of November/first week of December will sustain some of us through the upcoming season—the one that passes for winter around here.
“…he kept on pushing, he kept on speaking, he kept on marching, until change finally came.”
“…when met with hardship, when confronting disappointment, Dr. King refused to accept what he called the “is-ness” of today; he kept pushing towards the “ought-ness” of tomorrow.
“We can’t be discouraged by what is…we’ve got to keep pushing for what ought to be…”
Buffy Sainte-Marie is one of the central figures in Keep on Pushing: As unique musically as she is direct lyrically, Sainte-Marie was born on the Piapot Cree Indian reservation in Saskatchewan and adopted by a family in Maine. She says that as a child she was artistic innately, as well by necessity. Befriended by a Narragansett couple who lived near her family in Maine, it was from them she learned about cultural handcrafts and kindness. “They didn’t sit around and give me Indian lessons,” she said, “But on the other hand, they didn’t chase me away.” As a young student, Sainte-Marie was drawn to philosophy and religion, while she simultaneously developed her musical side, as a folk performer. Her unique vibrato and innovative song style are what first drew me to finding out more about her story; what I found, moved me to the core, from the volume of hardship and turmoil she described, to her refusal to study war, which landed her among Nixon’s enemies. “I don’t think many people, even today, understand how much blacklisting has gone on of artists in the record business,” she says. In the face of the hassles, Sainte-Marie continued to innovate, as an electronic musician as well as a computer-based visual artist. Committed to teaching, to passing on what was given freely to her as well as what she fought to achieve, Sainte-Marie’s work still offers a pointed critique of war, greed, injustice and the anti-people policies that impact indigenous people all over this land.
Debora Iyall is one of the artists directly descended from Sainte-Marie’s example of native creativity: A singer, a songwriter, a poet, and a visual artist, Iyall’s story also unfolds throughout Keep on Pushing, beginning with her time as a teenager during the Indians of All Tribes’ Occupation of Alcatraz. Her punk-rooted style bears little resemblance to Sainte-Marie’s folk roots (Iyall was most influenced by Patti Smith), but a close connection to arts education and her roots in the Cowlitz tribe made her a unique presence in San Francisco art-punk band, Romeo Void. Iyall had the guidance of elders—her mother and the Natives she met at pow-wows and on Alcatraz—who supported her creative discoveries. “I felt like I had these little nuggets of information or culture to hang on to,” she said. Today, Iyall exudes confidence in her work as a performer and visual artist and is also a teacher and advocate, for artists of all colors and dimensions.
I felt honored and humbled to have been allowed access to the lives of both Debora Iyall and Buffy Sainte-Marie—two women whose works have uplifted and inspired, not only their brothers and sisters native to the Americas, but their fellow artists and anyone who’s ever been broke or hungry, tired, or cast aside, and helped them to keep on keeping on: Their complete stories are told in Keep on Pushing.
Amoeblog: There’s a lot of “Keep On Pushing” titled songs. Which one were you thinking of when you titled your book?
Denise Sullivan: I was thinking of the original song by the Impressions, written by Curtis Mayfield and the way “keep on pushing,” and “move up a little higher” reoccur in his other songs, like “We’re a Winner”and “Move on Up.” Mayfield isn’t talking about the ladder of success and financial status. He’s talking about raising consciousness and about transcendence–about moving above and beyond circumstances. Combine those themes that are of deep interest to me with the genius of his composition and you get a title that I hope conveys the potential for extreme unity, between message, music and people.
Tassili is Tinariwen’s latest collection of desert blues from Mali. This song features Kyp Malone and Tunde Adebimpe of TV on the Radio, the contemporary indie rock band from Brooklyn.
Denise Sullivan 