Afro Punk, a familiar in the epoch of black festivals, has created safe spaces for blackness to be expressed beyond the stretch of our imagination. It has also had those roots challenged. Is Afro Punk adhering to its roots in black culture? Are they being intentional enough about celebrating blackness? Have the past few years watered it down?

It's true, some of us—like myself, will never know the glory days when Afro Punk was a donation-based event. In some ways, it felt like a well-kept secret where you could be surrounded by other dope spirits and listen to an array of amazing up-and-coming black artists. So much of the conversation about activism, representation and black culture is just that, a dialogue. At Afro Punk, it was style, art and music that made this constant conversation a little less heavy, a little less formal. Needless to say, I would do it all over again.

However, it isn't a black utopia. In fact, this year was a testament to quite the opposite. 

Afro Punk kicked off the weekend with an event hosted by Airbnb. It was a low key affair that made you feel like you were standing in a friend's living room—with a spades-esque table muttering in the corner of the room and the DJ finessing R&B, southern hip-hop, east coast anthems, and everything in between. It was a solid start to a commitment to help support black owned business and representation in the black tech space. With a long list of black faces at companies like Linkedin, Google and Lyft, it was just a taste of the weekend's unapologetically black celebrations. Chuck Marcus

Chuck Marcus

The two-day celebration continued with headliner R&B starlet SZA and other familiar alternative sounds from Macy Gray, Sampha, Thundercat and an unforgettable performance that should be heralded as The Solange Experience. Day two was a gamut of alternative, soul, reggae and punk sounds with headliners KAYTRANADA, Andersen Paak. and even a soulful, energetic performance by Raphael Saadiq to end the night. Sprinkled in between were names we've all heard of—NAO, Sango,  Michael Kiwanuka, Black Motion, Princess Nokia and Willow Smith lead exciting live performances fueled by dedicated fans.

Chuck Marcus

Chuck Marcus

Most of these performances stopped to recognize the black and brown faces in the crowd, check their privilege and get really honest about who they were singing to. But if you settled with the idea that black people finally have a space to express themselves, it would also gloss over the gentrification of a movement that started as donation-only. It was a double edged sword understood, but also felt throughout the weekend. This isn't the first time this is being said, and it worthy critique for future festival goers;  Bigger shows, bigger artists and bigger sponsors has also been the festival's undoing as a safe space for black people. 

Chuck Marcus

Very Smart Brothers writer Shamira Ibrahim spoke about the challenges of staying true in comparison to just how far Afro Punk has come. Just like Ibrahim, if I had the opportunity to attend the festival back in 2013, I would also be a minority within a minority. From its inception, the festival placed an emphasis on showcasing punk bands led by people of color and focusing less on producing a more robust, flashier show. Conversely, attending the show this year showed you just how blackness can quickly become a prop—translated as channeling your best festival style moment. The difficult part to swallow becomes, as it always has, watching non-black people become part of the space, enjoy the culture and never have to necessarily invest in that community. 

Afro Punk's website defines "Afro" as "born in African spirit or heritage; see black (not always)" and Punk as rebellious or the "under dog". This definition not only expands on what you may have heard about the festival but also constructs blackness as "Punk" and not entirely exclusive to the people it's named for. While this might be appealing to sponsors, it also sets the precedent that Afro Punk isn't about black people; it's about aesthetic and a "vibe" that you can indulge for a weekend. 

Chuck Marcus

Walking the dusty field of Commodore Park, rubbing shoulders with their creative interpretations of identity that range from imaginative to trendy, Afro Punk goers should expect a bit of a fashion show.

Chuck Marcus

However, it was seeing white people donning cornrows, non-black POCs rocking locs and other cultural appropriation by black and non-black POCs—that was confusing. As I gazed over the crowd during Michael Kiwanuka's performance, I realized surrounded by a sea of white faces carefully bobbing their heads to lyrics like, "I'm a black man in a white world." I felt out of place. That was the opposite of the Afro Punk I was excited to visit and give my money to each year. For the two days of Afro Punk, the assumption was that I could feel like there was a place for me and for other black people to express themselves—to continue conversations while enjoying black art in its many forms. Now, I could sense that one too many people had been invited to the BBQ and welcomed them with a plate. 

So, to white people and allies thinking about attending the festival just to check it out because you heard it was cool; it's true. Afro Punk has put their stamp on an aesthetic and a star-studded event that looks like the perfect way to cap off the summer. However, your presence affects the space. Checking your privilege is one thing, but also showing up in droves and treating it like any other festival also says something else. To black people, it's akin to becoming a spectacle in a place where you should feel comfortable and accepted. You should know that this space was created for black people, and the integrity of that space is challenged when you simply treat it like a summer event. There is a reason our joy, our expression and our art are considered resistance, therefore, our experience at the festival isn't constructed the same. 

Growth for an event is natural, and Afro Punk isn't immune, but it's worth asking how to promote the integrity of the space from where the brand sits. While Afro Punk shouldn't reject the idea of change, offering more opportunities throughout the year to earn a ticket or attend Afro Punk events, crafting clear marketing and content flow that prioritizes black audiences and explicitly responds to critique. Additionally, continuing to build partnerships with local schools and organizations that foster black art and social activism, and revisit the organization of the event that won't necessarily garner a mainstream audience on the main stage, can show Afro Punk goers that the brand also wants to stay true to the vision. Afro Punk is beloved for its authenticity and exclusivity, and both should contribute to its progress in the future.


Images provided by Chuck Marcus.