To be Black in Sonoma County
Sonoma County prides itself on being a bastion of liberal, free-thinking, empowering and open-minded people. But the last four years in this country—culminating with the insurrection at the Capitol—continue to expose the intense undercurrent of racism and white supremacy movements that are very much alive. Even here in our own backyard. I wanted you to hear from some local voices about what it’s like to be Black in Sonoma County. And since my column is “Inside The Music” we will explore this through the eyes and hearts of local musicians. I’m truly grateful that each of them took the time to share so much of themselves—it’s SO important for us all to listen and really hear what they are saying.
- Benjamin Mertz is a composer and performer, a human rights and racial justice activist, and the founder/director of Sebastopol's Joyful Noise! Gospel Singers.
- Hoytus Rolen is a musician, composer and fine artist. He's been teaching music in Sonoma County for over 35 years—22 of them with People’s Music in Sebastopol.
- Eki Shola is a Cornell University-trained physician and musician. She was just voted Best Electronica Artist in Sonoma for the fourth year in a row.
- Dido George is an artist/creator from Windsor. He is a singer, rapper and producer, an inventor signed to Empire Distribution Co, and a WaveBuilder Wave King.
- Dell Parker is a singer and songwriter, a veteran of Bay Area musical theatre and an advocate for the LGBTQ community.
- Kayatta Patton is a rapper, poet, producer and middle school teacher. She was just voted Best Hip Hop Artist in Sonoma for the second year in a row.
There are currently around 10,000 Black Americans living in Sonoma County, which is about 2.1% of the total county population (nationwide, Black Americans are around 13.5% of the population). These six voices certainly do not speak for everyone of course, but there are many commonly-shared experiences.
After the insanity at the Capitol, it took the news and social media only a couple hours to begin trying to compare it to the Black Lives Matter protests last year—which were in response to the vicious death of George Floyd—but were just as much an expression of a centuries-old aching for common decency, for equality, and the pain of the burden of carrying around in their hearts and souls the demoralizing history of endless numbers of Black Americans killed by those in power.
That evening, I had a conversation with Benjamin, who had just posted this on Facebook:
“Being Black in America is fighting back a scream every day. It's pitching your voice just right to make sure you're not perceived as a threat. It's getting the taillight fixed immediately so you don't get pulled over and murdered. You know how exhausting this is? Being in love with a country that hates you so much? That’s how much some of you hate me. And tragically, don't even know it. Don’t even see the connection. Putting on this smile is how I survive. I've been doing it a long time. I'm practiced. You haven't practiced anything as hard as I've practiced being acceptable to whites as a Black man in America.”
Everyone echoed Benjamin’s comments about being perceived as a threat, of having to change how they behave, change who they are in front of others, because they face constant attitude and apprehension.
Dido summed it up: “You can feel the energy change in the room when I walk in. When I walk in a store I feel the energy change. I wear a Do Rag ‘cause I’m a rapper, so people automatically equate that with somebody being a thug. Or I say hi and people don’t respond back to me... I’m a God-fearing man, so I want to show love to everybody, it’s just in me. And at the same time, it can get so frustrating and some days it’s like, I don’t give a damn what people think about me today! But I just can’t do it. It’s not in me. It wasn’t how I was raised. People say it's okay be yourself, but no...”
For Dell, this has resulted in a loss of identity: “My parents conditioned me and my two older sisters to be able to blend in with our white counterparts. They taught us to act a certain way, carry yourself a certain way, dress a certain way. If you ever come in contact with law enforcement, it’s ‘yes sir, no sir’ a very subservient attitude, don’t do anything that’s going to call attention to yourself. The downfall is sometimes thinking that I’ve lost myself—of who I may have been—and some of my own culture because I’ve separated myself over the years.”