white people, black music & liberation

Category: episodes

episodes of the podcast.

  • why is race so hard to talk about? (with matré)

    Description

    in this episode, erich is joined by hip hop artist and cultural worker matré for a candid conversation about why conversations around race can feel so charged, vulnerable, and difficult, even among people committed to justice and growth.

    together, they explore fear, in group dynamics, overlapping identities, and the tension between saying the “right” thing and speaking from love. the conversation touches on race as a collective wound, the vulnerability of being witnessed, and what becomes possible when we choose growth over performance.

    this episode is the first in a short series with matre, and opens space for honest reflection at the growing edge of race, music, spirituality, and liberation.

    to hear more from matre, including reflections on music, vulnerability, and healing, check out his podcast love bravely:
    https://podcasts.apple.com/podcast/the-love-bravely-podcast/id1783210134

    Transcript




    welcome to white people black music and liberation.
    i’m erich, and i’m here on the journey with you.
    this is a transmission at the intersection of race, music, and spirituality it’s about moving past the programming and into liberation.

    introducing matré
    before we begin, i want to share a little context about today’s guest.
    one of the people who has served as a spiritual compass for me on this journey is shelly tochluk. i’ve mentioned her work before because it’s been deeply formative and transformative for me. as i was putting these conversations together, i stayed in touch with her periodically, and she suggested that i reach out to matt.
    only after doing that did i realize that matt and i share four or five mutual friends from his time here in the bay area.
    then, when we had our first conversation, we realized something else. our ethnic heritages line up very closely. matt is arab american, half arab and half white, just like i am. that added an interesting layer to our interaction.
    there’s a nuance that emerges in this work when identities blur and overlap, and that showed up for both of us. it felt really good to feel seen by him.
    matt is also a courageous conversationalist. as his podcast, love bravely, suggests, he’s incredibly open and vulnerable, both in content and in style. we clicked immediately. it honestly felt like adding a new friend to my circle.
    we share a lot of overlapping threads. arab american identity. love of music, especially black music. anti racism work. and a shared desire for a spiritual compass that can hold all of it.
    when matt refers in this episode to “our conversation,” he’s talking about that first exchange we had. one of those conversations where you suddenly realize just how much overlap there is in lived experience.
    and in anti racism spaces, conversations about multiple intersecting identities don’t always get much room. so this felt unique.

    a note on the format
    a quick piece of housekeeping.
    matt is also known as matré in the music world. he’s a hip hop artist who’s released a lot of powerful work with the explicit intention of bringing healing and transformation into racial justice spaces. i really encourage you to check out both his music and his podcast.
    this conversation starts a bit abruptly because i edited some things out. we jump straight into the question: why is it so hard to talk about race?
    matt and i talked for a long time, so it made sense to break this into smaller episodes, each focused on a specific question. that’s the current format of these transmissions.
    one thing that stood out in our first conversation was just how much of a wound racism is for everyone, and how hard it is even to name it. that’s what’s being referenced at the end, when matt asks a deceptively simple question: why should we even care about racism?
    so with that, let’s get into it.

    why is it so hard?
    erich:
    it’s so hard to talk about this stuff. even in the first few conversations i’ve had with people who have clearly done a lot of inner work around race, whiteness, and privilege, it’s still incredibly difficult to talk about.
    matré:
    i really appreciate starting there.
    it takes me straight into the heart of the question. why is this such difficult territory?
    there’s so much uncertainty about what to say, what not to say, and how to say it. and i think it’s because this is a place of real wound. it’s vulnerable territory.

    choosing love over performance
    matré:
    i’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to work with love in this space. how do i engage questions around race in a way that actually comes from love?
    i could try to say the things that sound the best. or i could ask a different question: what would actually be helpful, even if it makes me feel more vulnerable, even if i’m afraid of judgment?
    what can i explore here that helps me grow, and helps me serve what’s actually needed in this deep and difficult part of our world?
    that’s the threshold for me. and it applies to many areas of my life, but it shows up very strongly here.


    in any deeply meaningful conversation, especially one connected to our growing edge, i want to be in it in a way where something new can emerge. where growth is possible.
    what’s interesting is how the presence of microphones changes that. the moment you know others might listen later, a whole new layer of vulnerability appears.
    and i’ve noticed fear coming up for me as i’ve moved toward hosting conversations about race. what surprised me is that the fear isn’t really about people who openly identify as racist.it’s more about my in group. people whose values i mostly share, who might call me out if i don’t say something exactly right.
    that fear of being challenged by those closest to us can be sharper than fear of those outside our circles.
    matré:
    yeah. i can really relate to that.

    closing
    that’s where we’ll pause for now.
    there will be a couple more episodes with matré. the next one explores a central tension many of us feel: being white and loving black music, and what a right relationship between those two things might look like.
    so stay tuned.
    wishing you all a great day.
    i’m erich, and this has been white people black music and liberation.
    if this message speaks to you and you want to be part of the journey, head to whitepeopleblackmusic.com, and let’s build a world where liberation is for everyone.

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  • is drawing attention to cultural appropriation causing harm?

    Description

    in this episode, erich responds to a question that arises often in conversations about cultural appropriation: is the narrative itself harmful, or is it naming harm that already exists?

    this conversation is especially oriented toward white and white passing listeners engaging with black, indigenous, and diasporic music and traditions, and who sense that responsibility, reciprocity, and liberation are part of the work.

    through personal reflection, lived experience, and spiritual framing, this transmission explores cultural appropriation as a product of deeper systems that center whiteness and make extraction invisible.

    rather than avoiding discomfort, this episode invites listeners to examine cause and effect, power dynamics, and the role of guilt and shame as signals of imbalance rather than moral failure.

    if you want to be a more deeply involved in this journey, sign up for our email list below:

    Transcript


    welcome to white people black music and liberation.
    i’m erich, and i’m here on the journey with you.
    this is a transmission at the intersection of race, music, and spirituality.
    it’s about moving past the programming and into liberation.

    naming the question
    today i want to go a little deeper into cultural appropriation.
    specifically, into recognizing harm, acknowledging impact, and taking responsibility.
    this conversation began with an email i sent to the orchestra gold newsletter about cultural appropriation. that email echoed themes from a previous episode here on the podcast.
    in response, i received a long message from someone on that email list. in it, they shared that the narrative around cultural appropriation itself was harmful, and that all people should be able to play music without feeling guilt or shame.
    i’ve held similar thoughts at earlier stages of my own journey, and it raised an important question for me:
    is the conversation around cultural appropriation harmful?
    or is it calling attention to harm that already exists?

    cause and effect
    at the core of this question is an assumption that if we simply didn’t talk about cultural appropriation, there wouldn’t be a problem.
    and i have to be honest, to me that feels backwards.
    we live in a system that centers whiteness. a system shaped by supremacy. and that system creates unequal access to resources, opportunities, platforms, safety, and even to being heard.
    those imbalances show up in music too.
    so what happens when someone who’s been given a lot of access because of the color of their skin takes music, imagery, or traditions from another culture, and uses them in ways that are disconnected from their source?
    that isn’t neutral.
    it can cause real harm.
    and it’s also not the same as when someone without institutional access takes something from people who already hold power. there isn’t the same momentum behind it.

    harm and invisibility
    this harm becomes especially pronounced when the music or traditions being taken come from contexts born of struggle, oppression, or survival.
    because of power dynamics and cultural conditioning, many of us fail to see that harm at all.
    for me, it was a shock when that harm was finally reflected back. i had lived for a long time without seeing the impact of my actions.
    i’ve been there.
    i’ve done that.
    shelly tochluk talks about this in the context of native and indigenous practices. she describes how people will take a small piece of a culture they barely know, build a business around it, and unknowingly reproduce a long history of extraction and theft.
    so when people say that the conversation about appropriation is what’s harmful, that feels like a confusion of cause and effect.
    the harm isn’t the discomfort we feel when appropriation is named.
    the harm is the system that makes appropriation easy and invisible in the first place.

    guilt and shame as teachers
    this brings us to guilt and shame, which came up in that response and which i have a lot of experience with.
    when i was unconscious, when i couldn’t see how i was complicit in these systems, i carried a lot of guilt and shame. and i tried to avoid those feelings.
    over time, as i brought more awareness to what was actually happening, i became more willing to learn and more willing to acknowledge harm. and those feelings began to soften.
    this wasn’t just intellectual. it wasn’t just about education.
    it was a spiritual transformation.
    it was a movement from fragmentation into wholeness.
    the fragmentation was not being able to see the harm i was causing, and not being able to acknowledge it. this process didn’t happen overnight. it’s taken years to unfold.
    and once i was able to acknowledge harm, i could begin taking steps to reduce it and to generate something life giving on the other side.

    restoring balance
    i don’t think guilt and shame are random. i think they’re often signals of unconsciousness.
    in my life, they were signs that something was out of balance. that i was out of reciprocity. that i was taking more than i was giving, or causing more harm than i was repairing.
    when i began to see the harm clearly, i could allow guilt and shame to become teachers rather than enemies.

    closing
    so to bring this home, the conversation about cultural appropriation is not the problem. and avoiding the conversation doesn’t serve us.
    we’ve had a long history in this country of avoiding hard conversations.
    what’s actually causing harm is the deeper system that centers whiteness and renders extraction and appropriation invisible.
    that’s enough for today.
    wishing you all many blessings.
    thank you so much for listening.
    take care.
    to a world where liberation is for everyone.

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  • beyond anti-racism, into liberation

    Description

    in this episode, erich reflects on why the language of liberation feels more accurate than anti racism to his lived experience. drawing from personal reflection, spiritual frameworks, and liberatory thinkers, this transmission explores the difference between opposition and wholeness, between reacting to injustice and moving toward collective healing.

    rather than framing the work as something we fight against, this episode invites a reorientation toward what we are moving into. more self knowledge. more ease. more relational honesty. more humanity.

    liberation, as explored here, is not a denial of racism or injustice. it is an invitation to work at a different frequency. one rooted in wholeness rather than fragmentation, and in possibility rather than shame or domination.

    Transcript


    white people black music and liberation
    Welcome to white people black music and liberation.
    I’m erich, and I’m here on the journey with you.
    This is a transmission at the intersection of race, music, and spirituality.
    It’s about moving past the programming and into liberation.

    beyond anti-racism, into liberation
    why liberation
    So why is the word liberation so important to this whole discussion?
    First, one thing I want to name for myself is that in doing these episodes, I’ve come up against a significant amount of fear on my end. And that fear isn’t of folks who are white nationalists or who espouse explicit racist beliefs.
    That fear is actually of the backlash I might receive from people who identify as progressive or liberal.
    And that’s because the way these things are often talked about, the way anti racism is often talked about, simply hasn’t been my lived experience.
    The central reason I want to do this podcast is because in doing my own work around what people call anti racism, meaning unblocking the anti Black and anti brown programming that I inherited from this society, that process has given me a tremendous amount of what I would call liberation.
    When I say liberation, I mean wholeness.
    I mean moving from fragmentation into wholeness.
    I mean more self knowledge, more ease with myself, more ease not just with Black and brown folks, but also with white folks.
    For me, it has been unilaterally an experience of greater and greater degrees of freedom. I can honestly say that from the bottom of my heart.

    the disconnect
    And yet, when I hear people characterize what they call anti racism, it often feels very different from my experience.
    This comes from all sides.
    On one side, I hear anti racism advocated for in ways that sometimes feel like tools to dominate or shame one another. In some ways, it feels like a continuation of the very dynamic we are being called to move beyond.
    On the other side, I hear anti racism completely mischaracterized as something meant to denigrate white people, something to fight against. And I can understand that reaction. I think I’ve been there myself at earlier stages of my journey.
    What I’m pointing to here is the opportunity in front of us to reframe the entire conversation around liberation.
    How do we liberate each other?

    shifting the frequency
    At the root of it, I think that’s what this is really about.
    Abraham Hicks talks about how the energy of the problem and the energy of the solution exist at very different frequencies.
    Albert Einstein said something similar.
    adrienne maree brown, in emergent strategy, talks about how what we practice at the small scale ripples outward, and how moving from reaction to intentional, relational strategy is essential.
    Michael Beckwith often speaks about vibrational alignment, and how overly focusing on the problem can keep us stuck in that same frequency.
    And Buckminster Fuller said, you never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.
    For me, it’s not that calling things anti racism is wrong. It’s just that energetically, anti racism is still positioned in opposition to racism.
    Liberation lives on a completely different frequency.

    collective liberation
    So for me, this is about reframing the whole thing.
    It’s about collective liberation.
    It’s about liberation for everyone.
    Liberation for Black and brown folks may look very different from the kinds of liberation that white or white passing folks need.
    I happen to have more lived experience in this world as a white, white passing person. So that’s the particular kind of liberation I’m speaking to here.
    Sometimes I use the word anti racism because it’s what people understand, and that’s okay. I’m not opposed to using that language.
    It’s just that liberation feels like a more accurate representation of my lived experience, and of the deeper direction my soul feels us being called toward right now.
    A direction that moves beyond injustice, beyond racism, beyond the limiting beliefs we’ve all been handed in this society.
    The best word I have for that is liberation.


    So that’s what I have for today.
    Wishing you many blessings.
    Take care.
    I’m erich, and this has been white people black music and liberation.
    If this message speaks to you and you want to be part of the journey, subscribe below.

    let’s build a world where liberation is for everyone.

    , , ,

  • why do i want to be the only white guy in the room?

    Description

    why do some white or white-passing people feel a desire to be the only white person in the room? in this episode, i reflect on my own longing for belonging in black spaces, the cultural void created by assimilation into whiteness, and how love for black music can slide into extraction without reciprocity. this is an invitation to examine power, privilege, and what giving back really requires if liberation is to be shared.

    Transcript


    Welcome to White People, Black Music, and Liberation.
    I’m Erich, and I’m here on the journey with you.
    This is a transmission at the intersection of race, music, and spirituality.
    It’s about moving past inherited programming and into liberation.


    WHY DO I WANT TO BE THE ONLY WHITE PERSON IN THE ROOM?
    I’m speaking from my own experience, not to assume it’s yours, but to invite you to examine what might be happening beneath the surface of your own experience.
    This show is for people who are white or white-presenting, especially those of us who love Black music.
    I’ve noticed a dynamic in myself: a kind of pride in being accepted by Black folks, and a desire to be the only white person in Black spaces. At first glance, this can look like a simple longing for connection and belonging. And some of that is true.
    But as I’ve sat with it more deeply, I’ve realized there’s more going on.
    A turning point for me came during a Witnessing Whiteness seminar with AWARE LA. We were invited to reflect on what our ancestors gave up in order to assimilate into American society.
    On my Arab side, I realized my family stopped speaking Arabic and let go of cultural traditions in the name of survival and assimilation. On my white European side, there was even more absence. Languages, food, stories, and lineage were largely lost. In exchange, we received whiteness.
    What came with that was a culture focused narrowly on material survival, dominance, and scarcity. That focus leaves a void. I felt that void growing up.
    Over time, I tried to fill it through culture. First through my Arab roots, then through Latinx culture, and eventually through West African music. What I didn’t understand at the time was that I was entering Black and brown spaces with unmet needs, without awareness of power dynamics or reciprocity.
    I was taking from Black culture, rhythms, community, and nourishment without acknowledging that giving back was necessary.
    I don’t believe it’s wrong to love Black music, to seek belonging, or to be welcomed into Black spaces. What becomes harmful is when that desire exists without responsibility.

    An African American woman I once dated kept asking me a question that stayed with me: How are you giving back? It took a long time for that question to land somatically. Eventually, I began to see the asymmetry in how I was benefiting without reciprocating.

    Black culture is deeply generous. Respect and humility may open doors, but for white or white-presenting people, respect alone is not enough. Reciprocity is required.

    That means asking difficult questions:
    How am I giving back?
    How am I using my access, platform, or resources to support others?
    How am I disrupting systems that grant me more access to liberation than others?
    I don’t have final answers. Staying in the tension of these questions is part of the practice. That tension is what inspires transformation and aligned action.
    It’s not wrong to want acceptance or belonging. But when I avoid responsibility for reciprocity, I help sustain systems that make liberation unevenly available.
    If I want liberation for everyone, I have to take responsibility for my part in disrupting those systems.

    I’m Erich, and this has been White People, Black Music, and Liberation.
    If this speaks to you and you want to be part of the journey, sign up for our email list below.

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  • is my anger blocking your liberation?

    Description

    what happens when anger is both justified and disruptive? in this personal vignette, erich reflects on a moment at a gym, family tensions, and the challenge of working with anger in anti racism and liberation work. rather than offering solutions, this episode sits in the messiness of anger as a valid response to injustice, while exploring how unheld anger can quietly block connection, dialogue, and collective liberation.

    Transcript


    is my anger blocking your liberation?
    welcome to white people, black music and liberation.
    i’m eric, and i’m here on the journey with you.
    this is a transmission at the intersection of race, music, and spirituality. it’s about moving past the programming and into liberation.

    this episode feels a little different. it’s more of a vignette. a snapshot of me in process. maybe others too.
    before i begin, i want to read something.
    racism is the most challenging issue confronting america…
    to ignore the problem is to expose the country to physical, moral, and spiritual danger.
    this text was written in 1991 by the national spiritual assembly of the baha’i of the united states. i’m not baha’i, and i’m not offering this as an answer. what struck me is how much more true it feels now than when it was written.
    i’ve been working with a lot of anger recently. anger, sadness, frustration at the state of the world. and i’m noticing that my inability to work with that anger well is actually blocking my work for liberation. not because the anger is wrong, but because i haven’t been metabolizing it in a healthy way.

    so i want to tell you a story, and then sit with what it opened up.

    i was visiting my aunt over the christmas holiday, staying in a nearby town. it’s fairly affluent and noticeably whiter than my home community, though there’s also a strong latinx presence.

    one morning i’m at the gym. headphones on. ipod going. if there’s one thing children of the eighties love, it’s ipods.
    i notice one of those exercise stations that’s basically a tall chair without a seat. you rest your arms on it for core work. a woman who appears to be a woman of color lays a mat down in front of it and starts doing exercises on the floor. she’s not using the chair itself.

    ten, maybe fifteen minutes go by. a tall, stiff looking white or white passing man, probably in his fifties, approaches her. she doesn’t seem to understand him, or at least isn’t responding the way he expects.
    he notices me watching and comes over.

    he says, “i just want her to move so i can use the chair. she’s not using it.”
    immediately, i’m triggered.

    some context. i’m conflict averse. that’s led to many moments in my life where i haven’t spoken up. i’m not proud of that. it’s a growth edge for me.

    and yet in this moment, i’m so activated that i have to say something.
    i tell him she has every right to be there, to set up where she wants, and to use the gym how she chooses. i suggest he go work on something else.

    he says, “i get what you’re doing. i appreciate it. but you don’t understand. she doesn’t speak english. she just needs to move so i can use the chair.”

    he keeps repeating that she’s not using it.

    i tell him again, no. she has every right to be there. you can’t make her move.

    to me, it’s clear she either doesn’t understand him, or doesn’t feel he has the right to tell her to move. maybe both. maybe she’s even feigning not understanding. that was my read. i could be wrong.
    the conversation escalates. i feel myself getting hotter. he seems to expect i’ll be his ally, that i’ll go explain things to her.
    i shut that down.

    eventually he leaves.

    at first, i feel proud of myself. i stood up for someone. that’s not something i’ve always done.
    but as that feeling fades, something else sets in.
    i realize i may have missed an opportunity.
    there were deeper layers happening in that moment. things i might have been seeing that he wasn’t. and i say might, because i didn’t give either of us space to find out.
    i shut him down in a way that didn’t invite conversation at all.
    maybe there was never going to be a fruitful conversation. that’s possible. but i didn’t allow for the possibility.
    after sitting with this, i realized i could have said something like, “i’m angry right now, and i don’t have the capacity to talk about this in the moment. but if you want to unpack what’s happening later, i’d be open to that.”
    my anger didn’t allow me to see that as an option.

    this taps into something bigger.
    there are people in my family who support policies and leaders i see as actively harming communities of color and the public at large. sometimes i’m so afraid i’ll start yelling that i avoid the conversation altogether.
    i don’t have a lesson here. this is messy. this is the growth edge.
    looking back, i see two familiar patterns with anger in my life.
    one is letting it live underground, unexamined, leaking out sideways. i lived that way for a long time. jung said, “if you do not make the unconscious conscious, it will rule your life and you will call it fate.” that was me for about thirty years.
    the other pattern is spiritual bypassing. treating anger as something to transcend, something incompatible with being spiritual or positive. that one is trickier, because it sounds enlightened.
    when i shared this story in my men’s group, someone offered a metaphor that really landed. they said to treat anger like a crying baby in your arms. not something to suppress. not something to act out. something to hold, soothe, and stay present with until it settles.
    that’s the only thing that resembles a takeaway here.

    anger has a nuanced and context specific place in anti racism and liberation work.
    anger is a logical response to injustice. we often misdiagnose the anger as the problem, when the real problem is the injustice producing it.
    what i’m seeing right now feels like a form of darkness that’s being actively produced. sometimes willfully. sometimes through ignorance. but in either case, many people are putting momentum behind harm creation.
    in that context, anger is a valid response. one of many valid responses.
    and yet our culture often says, “these people are just angry,” instead of examining the systems creating that anger.
    making space for anger is delicate. it can run the show. and our inability to sit with it is often exactly what lets it unconsciously keep running things.
    this is where my growth edge shows up again.
    a lot of the anger i’m working with is anger toward other white folks. family members. people who support policies i see as destructive.
    when i don’t know how to hold that anger, it actually blocks my liberation work. it shuts down conversation. it makes me unreachable.

    one inspiration for sharing this imperfectly is marie beecham’s podcast know better, do better. she’s been releasing episodes where she openly says she hasn’t made up her mind. i love that. it reflects the sloppiness of this work.
    even while making this episode, i felt the urge to troubleshoot. to wrap it up neatly. i’m intentionally not doing that.
    i’m sitting in the mess.
    if this messiness gives you some illumination, great. if not, that’s okay too.
    wherever you are, i’m wishing you well. happy 2026. may you and your loved ones find moments of peace and the ability to thrive.
    i’m erich, and this has been white people, black music and liberation.
    if this resonates, visit whitepeopleblackmusic.com.

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  • am i doing cultural appropriation?

    Description

    this episode asks a hard question: am i doing cultural appropriation? drawing from personal experience, spiritual community conversations, and the work of shelly tochluk, i explore why defensiveness often blocks discernment, how harm can exist even with good intentions, and why the more important question may be whether harm is being caused at all. from there, the conversation turns toward accountability, repair, and liberation as a way forward.

    Transcript


    Welcome to White People, Black Music, and Liberation.
    I’m Erich, and I’m here on the journey with you.
    This is a transmission at the intersection of race, music, and spirituality
    It’s about moving past programming and into liberation.

    CULTURAL APPROPRIATION AND DISCERNMENT
    Cultural appropriation is an area where discernment feels especially important right now. At the same time, many of us have been deeply programmed around race, and that programming has created a lot of unconsciousness.
    When we talk about discernment, it’s easy to use it as a way to push away discomfort. But often, those defensive reactions are actually guideposts. They point to places where we still have work to do.
    Cultural appropriation tends to bring up a lot of defensiveness. One of the most helpful discussions I’ve encountered comes from Shelly Tochluk’s book Living in the Tension. Her work focuses on spiritual communities and how the deep human need for belonging can lead people, especially white people, to adopt practices from marginalized cultures.
    Often this happens with good intentions, and yet it can still disrespect those practices or strip them from their origins.

    BOTH-AND THINKING
    One thing I deeply appreciate about Shelly’s work is her emphasis on both-and thinking. She asks how someone can feel connection and belonging without crossing into appropriation.
    She also talks about the importance of white people developing positive racial identities. Not identities rooted in shame or guilt, but identities that include accountability and deprogramming the biases we’ve inherited.
    Some questions she encourages us to ask include:

    Am I honoring this practice or co-opting it?

    Do I know who this practice belongs to?

    Who historically had access to it, and who was punished or marginalized for using it?
    These questions are just as relevant in music as they are in spiritual practice.


    HISTORY, HARM, AND MUSIC
    If you’re engaging with a tradition that was historically suppressed, especially by your own group, you may be entering appropriation territory.
    Consent matters. Relationship matters.
    Am I connected to the community this comes from?
    Am I turning this into something I sell, brand, or profit from?
    Am I extracting it from its cultural or historical context?
    Even if I mean well, what harm might this be causing?

    MOVING PAST THE DEBATE
    It’s easy to get pulled into endless debates about what is or isn’t cultural appropriation. For me, that’s not the most useful question.
    The more important question is: am I causing harm?
    Because we live in an unjust society, it’s possible that simply playing Black music as a non-Black person can cause harm. That harm comes from a long history of exploitation.
    When I play Black music, I’m stepping into that history. If someone feels harmed by that, their feelings are valid.

    MY OWN RECKONING
    For many years, I avoided this question entirely. I minimized it. I dismissed the harm.
    Liberation began when I stopped doing that. When I acknowledged that harm exists and that I may be participating in it.
    Because without that acknowledgment, I can’t ask the next question:
    What am I going to do to repair it?

    REPAIR AND RESPONSIBILITY
    This isn’t a guidebook. It’s an invitation to ask the first, most honest question: am I causing harm?
    And not to be afraid of answering yes.
    That’s where the real conversation begins.
    I’m Erich, and this has been White People, Black Music, and Liberation.

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  • first, a disclaimer.

    first, a disclaimer.

    Description

    this episode opens with a personal disclaimer. i’m not an expert or authority. i’m a mostly white-passing arab american musician reflecting on race, proximity to black music, and how unconscious racial programming shapes our inner and outer worlds. this podcast approaches antiracism as liberation work rooted in humility, discernment, and a willingness to sit with discomfort. take what serves you. leave what doesn’t.

    Transcript

    First, a Disclaimer

    Welcome to White People, Black Music, and Liberation.
    I’m Erich, and I’m here on the journey with you.
    This is a transmission at the intersection of race, music, and spirituality.
    It’s about transmuting the racism we’ve all inherited into liberation.

    A DISCLAIMER
    This is a preamble to the show.
    I have no formal qualifications to speak of. What I do have is a desire to talk, to engage, and to learn about a subject that remains deeply taboo in the United States: race. More specifically, how racial identity programming has shaped me, limited me, and what it might mean to liberate myself from it.

    A BIT ABOUT ME
    I’m a mostly white-passing Arab American. I grew up in Southern California. I’m a child of the 80s, and I’m a musician who loves Black music.
    I’ve been in proximity to Black music, and especially African music, for most of my life. Over time, that proximity has invited me to examine how my racial identity shapes the way I experience that music.
    The true motivation behind these transmissions is healing. I believe that our internal psychic landscapes are reflections of the collective. As the saying goes, as above, so below.

    WHY I’M SHARING THIS PUBLICLY
    I want to be honest. A part of me feels ambivalent and scared about putting these reflections out into the world. And at the same time, a deeper part of me wants to share my healing journey around racial identity programming.
    Not because my journey is complete. It isn’t.
    But because I hope it can serve as a point of attraction for others who also want to heal from the supremacy we’ve been socialized into seeing as normal in this country.

    DISCERNMENT AND RESPONSIBILITY
    In this day and age, discernment feels more important than ever. I can only speak from my own lived experience, and it’s up to you to decide what resonates.
    You get to take what serves you.
    You get to leave what doesn’t.
    And I want to add an important qualification to that.
    We’ve been deeply socialized into unconsciousness when it comes to race. One of the clearest ways I’ve found to locate my own unconscious patterns is by noticing where I become defensive or triggered.
    So if you feel defensive or triggered by something we talk about here, I invite you to sit with that feeling.
    In the past, I often dismissed discomfort by calling it discernment or saying I didn’t want to be around negative energy. Over time, I’ve learned that those moments were often invitations, not warnings.
    There’s a saying that’s stayed with me:
    The lips of wisdom are closed, except to the ears of understanding.
    That’s my disclaimer.

    I’m Erich, and this has been White People, Black Music, and Liberation.
    If this speaks to you and you want to be part of the journey, visit whitepeopleblackmusic.com.
    Let’s build a world where liberation is for everyone.

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