Last Sunday I had the honor of cohosting the Educate to Liberate Gala where we gathered to help fund the futures of our very own institutions.
Big congratulations and thank you to @kilomboschool + @tsk_preparatory + @gha_tk0012 for fiercely carrying the torch of the black freedom school tradition❕
Shout out to honorary chair @aiyishatheblessed , cohost @raskofipresentspermakulture and @thepovcollectivez for capturing the moments and to everyone who lent a hand and gave a dollar. Truly a family affair. 🤍
Excited and Honored to host this event!
The Educate to Liberate Gala is almost here.
On March 22, we gather for an evening of culture, community, and liberation-centered education featuring live music by Mausiki Scales & The Common Ground Collective, a special performance by Kim Strings, music by DJ Dandara, live art, a silent auction, and curated cash bar!
This is more than a gala.
It’s a room full of people committed to the future of our children.
🎟 Final tickets available
Individual: $150 | Couple: $250
Secure your seat now: EducateToLiberate.online
#EducateToLiberate #E2LGala #LiberationEducation
Yesterday we joined the beautiful Kanyama family at the Journey to Freedom: Women of the Civil Rights Movement public art installation in Freedom Park to honor the first heavenly birthday of Mama Tamu Kanyama!
Today we honor Iya Fulani Sunni-Ali on what would have been her 78th birthday! Queen Mother Warriors, Sisters in the Struggle, reunited in love and spirit.
“So make sure when you say you’re in it but not of it
You’re not helping to make this earth a place sometimes called Hell
Change your words into truths and then change that truth into love
And maybe our children’s grandchildren
And their great-great grandchildren will tell”
I’ll be loving you always…
Yesterday, a true Warrior Queen, Mama Tamu Kanyama- Ann Norman was laid to rest.
Although our families were connected prior to this, my first vivid memories of Mama Tamu are of being in the third grade at Venetian Hills Elementary where she taught. The beloved “Mih Norman” (Atlanna voice). She proudly told the story over the years about how she was so happy to have me there to be her “Kwanzaa helper.” For the last 7 days of school every December she would have me go the main office, get on the PA system and say the Kwanzaa principles and their meaning. We also would sing call and response Kwanzaa songs together. In addition I would serve as the MC for the school’s annual Kwanzaa celebration that she so beautifully organized.
Her sweet wide smile when telling the story of how impressed the teachers and admin were that “lil girl can shol pronounce dem African words” could light up a room. But most of all, it lit me up. I’m grateful that I told her publicly and privately just how much she and those days in particular meant to me. How important it was for me to have her as refuge, guide and example of what it meant to be a New Afrikan navigating the public school system. Mama Tamu’s love was cement in the building of my confidence and self-esteem. The very thing that I was often teased for became my superpower every December. From “Afrikan booty scratcher” to African Queen. Suddenly I wasn’t the weird African girl with “nappy hair” and a hard name but was instead referred to as intelligent, talented, beautiful.
I know this wasn’t just happenstance. Being the brilliant educator she was she saw what young people needed and positioned them to win by showcasing their essence, their strengths. She did this for me (all the way through college!) and I witnessed her do it for so many others. Even when I “got in trouble” and was sent to her class she never scolded me. Sometimes she would ask “what’s going on?” but for the most part she knew what it was. She showed me where to sit in her classroom, gave me an activity and smiled at me to let me know I was safe. Every black child needs a Mama Tamu!
Continued in comments.
One year ago, I gave birth on my bed. My longest labor! 🙏🏾 Yet, the most liberating.
I walked and squatted and danced through the waves of contractions in the peace of my own home. We had a dream team. Divinely orchestrated.
During the early labor hours, my doula nieces twerked with me 🤣, cried with me 🥹, held me, massaged me, and laughed with me. My 2- and 7-year-olds often peeked their heads into the room “Mommy, you got this!” 🥰 before rejoining Mama Selah, who took the best care of them while also reminding me to breathe.
Ever the soldier, ensuring all was in place, Baba Ishmael drove out in the thick of night to gather the last supplies we needed.
And what’s better than one veteran midwife? Twooooo‼️
Mama Haiba and Mama Sarahn. Over 80 years of history, experience, and wisdom between them, working together for the first time on this sacred occasion. The safety I felt is immeasurable. Still giving thanks. 🤍
When it was time to push, I had a whole conference of Phone Doulas. I was already on the phone with my sister Osunsina, who had been speaking so much life and strength into me, and I was like, “Hol’ on real quick, I’m ready to push.”
Sisters, cousin, nieces. Tapping in from Belize, New York, DC, Florida and Georgia.
With Ishmael at my head holding my gripping hands and a focused midwife on each side of me, I pushed out my Kosmos…sooo handsome and plump.
It was exactly 30 days after my father’s transition. December 30 to January 30. ✨
For 30 days I tried to grieve carefully, as if that’s a thing.
Joyful tears flowed for the blessing of life after (physical) death. For the transformation of energy. And so we named him Asante Babawande.
My namesake. Mama ‘Sante is born again. “Father has returned.”
Kosmos to earth.
One trip around the sun.
Happy Birthday to my baby! 🥳☀️🎉
Flashback to ‘90 something with me, Iya Fulani and @princess_mdaiyah in the family room eating popcorn from our very own popcorn machine. A few years before this we (a few of my siblings and my mom) had gotten into a minor car accident in New Orleans. We acquired a small sum of money and I was looking forward to getting some new shoes and clothes. I just knew I was finna be “fresh ta death” as we’d say at that time. Mama had other plans for that $. She took us all to Sam’s club and spent a few thousand on a popcorn machine. “A popcorn machine?” I thought. “Wth?” She talked right through our moans and groans, as she often would, and explained that we were making an investment. She said that not only can we make our own popcorn but we can sell it and make money at parties and festivals. That machine lasted for at least five or six years and we did just what she said. We even had our own store for a while. Giving thanks for the many life lessons Mama taught us. An #investment in the future is more important than temporary and superficial “stuff.” I never regretted having that popcorn machine. It provided me with what became my favorite snack, I’m sure it paid a bill or two for the house and kept some change in my pocket. Thanks Ma!
#actsofliberation #kwanzaavalues #anditwasntevenkwanzaa #selfdetermination •collectiveworkandresponsibility •cooperativeeconomics •purpose •faith •creativity •mamaknowsbest •raiseyourhandifyourememberthispopcornmachine
Habari Gani?
Imani (Faith)
To believe with all our heart in our people, our parents, our teachers, our leaders and the righteousness and victory of our struggle.
The pictured image is the ancient Egyptian double symbol of the ankh (life) and djed pillar (stability, endurance) serves here as a symbol of steadifastness in commitment to the Good, the Right, and the Beautiful in life.
Habari Gani?
Kuumba (Creativity)
To do always as much as we can, in the way we can, in order to leave our community more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited it.
The pictured image is the seven vibrations of divine creation - the Dogon symbol of creativity.
“If there was ever a man
Who was generous, gracious and good
That was my dad
The man
A human being so true
He could live like a king
‘Cause he knew
The real pleasure in life
To be devoted to
And always stand by me
So I’d be unafraid and free”
Among a beautifully dynamic collection of music from multiple genres across the African Diaspora, Baba Bilal Sunni-Ali often played “A Song for My Father” in the house and performed it publicly. It was after his transition that I listened more keenly to the words. As the words sank in, tears flowed…each one a reflection of how perfectly they capture who he was and the way he moved through life.
In addition to music, my daddy introduced me to various forms of art, but performing arts and theatre became my greatest loves. I went from watching him perform to sharing the stage with him and weaving his music into my own plays while he cheered from the audience. We also enjoyed being audience members together, critically analyzing each performance we experienced. His influence, intentional approach to his craft and his scholarship on music and art not only deepened my appreciation for the arts but also shaped the way I create, interpret and engage with them.
More than just my daddy, Baba Bilal was my comrade, my homie, my teacher, my mentor, a walking encyclopedia and keeper of our stories. There was little I could ask him—on any subject—that he didn’t have a well-thought-out answer for. Black culture, history and liberation were our favorite topics to explore together, sparking endless conversations filled with his deep knowledge, insight, and passion. He was an organic intellectual whose wisdom was personified in everything he did. Whether engaging in deep critical dialogue or cracking jokes that left everyone in tears, he carried a knowing energy that was incomparable.
Habari Gani?
Nia (Purpose)
To make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore our people to their traditional greatness.
The pictured image is the heiroglyph Nefer - Ancient Egyptian symbol of beauty and good.
