Preserve Thy Blackness: Sonic Cultural Inclusivity for Black Students at Oberlin College
Kaitlyn Rivers
What is culture? Here's what a few students and staff members of the Africana Community at Oberlin College had to say.
"I feel like it's too Black"
In a predominantly white institution (PWI) such as Oberlin, it can become too easy to lose yourself to the majority. Students of color, in particular, the Africana community, often feel that they have to drop their culture at the border of Oberlin, the classroom doorway, or for some the Ohio state line. While some PWI’s offer space and create dialogue around the concern of their minority students not having community, it sometimes is not enough. Things that happen beyond the community learning space, dorm, or even a certain region of the campus that is known to house students of color, often neglect to reinforce the idea of community and a welcoming atmosphere. How are Black students supposed to feel welcome when their culture and mannerisms (i.e. exaggerated gestures, spontaneous dance parties, the mixture of rap and gospel dinner karaoke, and call and response feedback during performances) are seen as too much, too loud, and obnoxious?
On this page, I have presented just some of the characteristics that defined the soundscape that is the Africana community of Oberlin College. Soundscapes, as mentioned by R. Murray Schafer (2013), a composer, writer, music educator, and environmentalist, are sonic environments, and any portion of a sonic environment that includes all sounds present in the space. I chose to investigate the soundscape and soundscape ecology that is both created and maintained within the Africana community of Oberlin, as well as highlight the specific sound marks that create the communities' sonic culture. Soundscape ecology is the study of sound in a landscape. By extracting the ethnography of these sounds I was able to describe the relationship between these spaces, the sound they offer individuals, and the individuals themselves. These are not sounds you should tune out or turn away from, they're not noise. It's life from a sonic perspective.
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"..Being As Black As They Can Possibly Be"
The title for this section comes from an interview I had with a graduating senior majoring in Africana Studies and Theater. Black theater and performance spaces are unique soundscapes themselves and offer specific sounds and energies that the Africana community can distinguish in the space. These are soundmarks.
As an individual on track to directing numerous future shows, their senior show was aimed at serving Black students both as the actors and the audience. Producing Black theater is in of itself a drastically different soundscape of anthrophony when compared to Western and European based theater. The songs are soulful, and there is often mention of the characters ancestors or African roots and spirit guides; otherwise known as orishas. Black theater is capable of calling in the community and calling out the wrongful realities that are produced by white contemporaries. In all, Black theater, and Black Queer theater, "uplifts (me and) my community and people who are part of my culture" as stated by the senior director. Black theater and the sonic aspects it incorporates onto the stage also allows "other cultures to get a look inside" to see a fellow Black student truly express themselves "in a way that feels comfortable to them". When walking into a Black theater production, you will hear the drums, or the club music and no matter which one it is the loud affirmation of "yassss, go ahead!" from members of the community, or the collective "mmmmm, yes" when a scene on stage resonates with the Africana community. Black theater is exaggerated, it is vocal, it demands attention and call and response when active dialogue is initiated between audience and actors.
Beyond the theater stage, all of my interviews highlighted with great joy that Soul Session is an important, if not the most important aspect of maintaining the Africana culture here at Oberlin. What does Soul Session sound like? Music is already being played before a performer comes on as everyone is dancing their hearts out pre-performance time. There is stress-free laughter and singing in the background, students telling other students to sign up to perform. And what does Soul Session sound like during the performances? When a singer hits that magical note a collective "mmmm" and most often the common "yassss, OKAY!" flows over the crowd, and it wouldn't sound like Soul Session if you didn't hear the falling of shoes on the ground. We throw shoes when the performers are killing the song, poem, etc. And it wouldn't be a Black performance space without consistent conversations during each performance, all of which are only commenting on how amazing each kick, high note, instrument chord, are. Soul Session is also the sounds of tears flowing and sniffles struggling to be held back when an OSLAM poet pours their heart and soul out for everyone, often discussing the real struggles and turmoils of being Black in America. Soul Session also acts as a church for many students and faculty.
Many of my interviews explained that some of the most joyous and exciting anthrophony, or human-generated sounds, are during dance performances or dance parties. Anthrophony can be described in four distinct parts; electromechanical, physiological, incidental, and controlled. My focus is on the physiological and controlled, the human body, recorded music, and instruments. The physiological noise that can be heard in a dance performance is the stomping of feet, yelling and singing both on stage and in the audience, and the hand clapping. While the controlled noise in a performance space, like the Dance Diaspora shows, is the African drums that call you into space. The rhythmic call of the drums can stir up emotions, and when accompanied by a ritual or traditional dance, the spirit flows. Check out the most recent Dance Diaspora production, "Tracing Our Roots".
"Let them eat Sunday Dinner"
For the Africana community at Oberlin College, Africana Heritage House, or A-House, is an acoustic territory that holds feelings of home and comfort. Acoustic territories are spaces that contain sonic characteristics that allow individuals to interpret their meaning and the way they function. If you come to A-House on a Sunday evening you aren't just walking into dinner, you are walking into a space of high energy and communal affairs, and a sanctuary for the Black student and staff here at Oberlin. Walking into A-House, especially on Sunday evenings means you are abiding by the house rules, and that includes reciting the house prayer. Hanging in the dining area of the Lord Side of A-House is the House Prayer, which all student, faculty, and guest diners are expected to recite when the time is announced. The atmosphere during Sunday Dinner is energetic and brings the outside sounds of a cookout inside the dorm. Music selections change weekly and can even jump from Gospel to club anthems in split seconds. The speakers bass resonates throughout the dining hall, and the A-House residents dance in their chairs and sing with the songs.
Sunday Dinner is loud with conversations about the week passed or the ones to come, obnoxious yet beautiful singing to the song being played, and this anthrophony mostly comes from the large Last Supper-like table reserved for A-House residents and Africana students. This mealtime gathering of all Black students from across the small Oberlin campus is synonymous to a family reunion. Exchanges of greetings and "oh my gosh, I haven't seen you in a while" between students and faculty fills the room. But Sunday Dinner isn't just dinner. If someone puts on a throwback dance song like the Cha-Cha slide, it's game over. Everyone leaves their food, finds a middle point of the dining hall and begins the memory ingrained dance steps in unison. If a booty-shaking song comes on those students who are brave enough will dance their backs out, and we as a community will loudly affirm their impromptu performance with screams of excitement. Sunday Dinner becomes church when gospel music is played, as students who can and cannot sing stretch their voices into the heavens to praise the Lord, or when the staff and faculty gather together to produce an ensemble. Beyond Sunday dinner, any and all cook-ins and cook-outs at A-House are memorable, as a fellow A-House resident states,
"We realized we needed a Black Co-op because the food is always banging. But we really come together with food and music...we have music playing and to sit and eat it always turns into a party. We will put the food out and ten seconds later everybody is lining dancing."
"There's always an opportunity to express joy, and celebrate"
"Umoja Means Unity"
This type of communal energy and vocal presence in any space should be considered a sign of life and positivity, not blatant, disruptive noise. Each aspect is a way in which Black students keep a piece of their home with them at all times, and it also allows them, us, to create a new home with various different perspectives and soundscapes merging into one. These events offer a narrative that I believe Oberlin as a PWI should value and highlight in greater depth. No, we should not be a show pony on display, but we should be included in the meshwork of components that makeup Oberlin College. Oberlin’s white student population and Oberlin as in institution's stigma around Black music being played in the dining hall(s), on the sidewalk, the way we yell during a friends performance, the collective soul session singing during dinner, or the quick consecutive, rhythmic claps to no music mean you can still have a party is a sign of the tables needing to turn. We as a community bring so much joy and vibrancy to the soundscape and rituals that are Oberlin College Culture, and we, therefore, deserve to own spaces, walk into them feeling welcomed at all times, not mute our Blackness, and be able to be our true selves. If that makes people uncomfortable or want to put their noise-canceling headphones in, well so be it, you're missing out on the party, PERIODT.
Listen to an abridged interview that covers the entirety of this blog post!
Bibliography
Gershon, Walter S. 2018. SO! Podcast #71: Everyday Sounds of Resilience and Being: Black Joy at Schools. Sounding Out.
Hadley, Fredara Mareva. In defense of loud, black summers. Revolt Media and TV.
Hopkinson, Natalie. 2019. Go-Go Lives to Fight Another Day. Slate Media.
Impey, Angela. 2018. Song Walking: Women, Music, and Environmental Justice in an African Borderland. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.
Noriega, Margarita. 2015. What gentrification in Oakland, California sounds like. Vox Media.
Silvers, Michael. 2018. Voice of Drought: The Politics of Music and Environment in Northeastern Brazil. Urbana. University of Illinois Press.
Valdes, Vanessa K. Black Joy: African Diasporic Religious Expression in Popular Culture. Sounding Out.
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