Of White Boys and Black Mentors…
I grew up in a country that was almost 100% white (we had a Gypsy minority and the rest was pretty much racially homogeneous). I was also cut off from western culture (because communism) until I was 13. Despite all this, a lot of my heroes were black. Michael Jackson was the first one. Then came Prince, a true titan of art who influenced not only my musical taste, but gave me the self esteem and creative confidence that helped me negotiate my own publishing deals and demand respect from an industry that often treats artists like tools.
Despite all this, I have never been able to fully grasp how problematic racism was to my heroes. Jackson’s journey to transform himself into a white man is well documented, despite his ridiculous denial. Behind all the eccentricity and immaturity was the ugly damage inflicted by the society he lived in. I knew racism was a problem for him but I could never truly understand why. For me, insulated in my bubble (nowadays called privilege), this problem seemed solvable just by the power of intention. Racism is bad? Let‘s not be racist then. Case solved.
It seems so easy when you look from afar, doesn’t it? Then you grow up and you realize simple problems don’t have simple solutions because they consist of a myriad of barely noticeable elusive micro problems, glued together by ignorance, prejudice, and even misdirected compassion or guilt (the white savior archetype is a perfect example). So why am I writing this? I don’t really know. I just feel compelled to share something and at least recognize how impactful black culture is, even to someone who never saw a black person in real life until the age of 20. And because I see so much hate pouring on the Black Lives Matter movement and so little understanding about what it represents.
As I look back and see myself fake riffing to Purple Rain, I wish I were more perceptive and I wish I could recognize the amount of effort required for someone to overcome such an avalanche of obstacles and produce something so profoundly influential that it could touch the strings of another human being on the other side of the planet. What do I say to my heroes? I hear you? Yes I do. I feel you? Obviously I didn’t feel you enough. But I love you. I hope that helps…
