Black Lives Matter - Stories from Justin Anantawan

Jul 14

Music, for me, has been pivotal in quieting both internal and external chaos in the most absurd of circumstances. When attending the BLM protests, I wanted to play a number of country's national anthems as a call to order. When I got there, and met Regis' family, I began thinking about other always to share my talents, and so I instinctively played Amazing grace and Hallelujah to help her family to grieve, to mourn the loss of yet another black life. As the protests continued and I felt uplifted and felt hope, Joe (my Sax player) and I played Mercy Mercy Mercy by Cannonball Adderley and spottieottiedopaliscious by Outkast. To keep the momentum going, we played the bangers (for a Torontonian, that’s anything with Drake).

Even in the four hours, we were there, the feelings, the energy, and the progress from despair, to anger to hope could be influenced and informed what we played. I know music helps me make sense of my emotions, the people around me and adds to the power of the voices demanding to be heard. We were there for justice and I, for a brief moment, added the sound-track. Because Black music matters. And, because. Black. Lives. Matter.

My Little Activist in the Making by Winnie Joseph (@qamrachalice)

On May 30, Torontonians protested the killings of unarmed black people by police after Regis Korchiski-Parquet, an Afro-Indigenous woman, died in an encounter with Toronto police two days after George Floyd. I joined the march and took a photo of a boy in the arms of his mother's friend. By chance, his mother Winnie Joseph found the photo online. She writes:

Growing up I've always believed in the saying "It takes a village, to raise a child." My elders have always told us two things: 1) Stand up for what you believe in, even if no one else will. 2) Don't be too prideful to ask for help when needed. I didn't really care for those words as a teenager, but I heard them. And they stuck.

After having my son and realizing I have to raise this boy into a man, those words couldn't have been any more true. When times get rough we need all the support we can get. And with all the injustice that's going on around the world right now towards minorities and people of colour, specifically black and indigenous men, women and children. I'm scared even having to think of what my son and nephews would have to face in the years to come. Will they be ready?

To be honest I was doubtful, because my son is only four, so I wasn't sure how he would handle the crowd. Plus with the pandemic and social distancing going on, I was weary. But I felt that if I didn't go, my son would miss out on a part of history. I would've regretted it. In the end, it was a good experience for my son. He was a part of history, taking a stand and marching with his mom, aunties, and complete strangers. My little activist in the making.

Jahvante (@lightskingjahvante)
I met Jahvante at a Black Lives Matter Protest on June 6. I asked him to tell me the meaning behind his outfit. He writes: I wanted to show how I feel when every day I go out and see someone that is scared of me because of the colour of my skin. They keep saying that there is no racism and they think it’s all finished when slavery ended saying that they’re nothing like that, just to make themselves feel better. The outfit is to make those persons feel uncomfortable under their skins, to make them aware that they’re still thinking like centuries ago: feeling safe only when another human person is stripped of his humanity and freedom. I want to show them the hypocrisy they’ve been living in until now.