Tag: belonging

  • 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.


  • 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.