Getting beyond my comfort zone usually leads to great discoveries. Which is why I went to Brooklyn yesterday for a shot of edgy, stylish, Afro-centric inspiration. The 12th annual Afropunk music festival was such a unique, satifying experience!
People showed up making the most wildly creative fashion statements. Food trucks and kiosks served deliciousness. Of course, there were terrific bands and performers.
But what really pulled the weekend event together was the inclusive message about multicultural diversity, urban righteousness and social justice. Well, okay. To be honest, the over-the-top people watching made a huge difference too.
The festival was so thoughtfully planned out. I loved the ism sign posted at the entry gate:
To keep the message on track and prevent sloppy drunkeness, alcohol was restricted to roped-off areas featuring food vendors and picnic tables. You could buy a beer there — but you couldn’t take it out into the rest of the park. Brilliant! (Meanwhile, the scent of marijuana seemed to be everywhere.)
The friendly, mostly-millennial crowd loved being photographed. Everyone said “yes” when I asked if it was okay to take their picture.
There was a time when I would’ve been too intimidated to show up in a setting like this. Not cool enough, definitely not Black enough and not young enough either.
But I felt quite at home, grinning at everyone. I’m so happy to know that Afropunk exists, that it’s possible for someone like me to celebrate my inner, multiracial millennial. :)
To quote my hero George Clinton, we are one nation under a groove. And yes, the legendary funkmaster was there — although, in his mid-70s now, he’s not exactly a crazy stage presence anymore. In fact, I couldn’t even spot him. Maybe I was just too far away.
But his band rocked his hits. Bow-wow-wow-yippie-yo-yippie-yay!
Bands and artists played all day and into the night on three separate stages within Commodore Barry Park. This green space near the Brooklyn Navy Yard has been around since the 1830s, making it the oldest park in the borough. We were in a historic place making cultural history of our own.
My daughter and I drove down with our friend Tia. Doors opened at noon on both Saturday and Sunday but we only went for Saturday. We stayed from 5 p.m. to 9:30 p.m., which is when my feet wore out.
While I enjoyed George Clinton and Cee Lo, most of the other artists are not on my play list. So I skipped Tyler the Creator. There was plenty to explore besides music, like grazing on a $13 gluten-free falafel platter, $6 corn on the cob and checking out some of of the vendor stands. I also took home a free “Dark and Lovely” paper fan.
If you missed Afropunk in Brooklyn, the festival is going to London for the first time on Sept. 24. Grace Jones, another one of my heroes, will be performing. (In 2015, Afropunk debuted in Atlanta and Paris.)
To keep the Afropunk movement with me, I will hold it close online. The festival has a very good-looking website, where I’ve subscribed to its emails. Let’s see how that goes. I’m also following @Afropunk on Instagram, where these folks post Black-is-beautiful photos.
Best of all, I am feeling good about finding a community I can really relate to. We share a commitment to multicultural values and lifestyles, served up with bold creativity and fun. Whatever this generation is up to, they give me hope.
I’m so glad my daughter and I can share a future in a multicultural, multiracial world. Me, my daughter, our friends. Our tribe.