The Kuumba Singers of Harvard College are adamantly not a Gospel choir. Rather than spreading the word of God, their creed lies in their Swahili name meaning “creativity” or “leaving a place better than you found it.” This secular philosophy of “doing what you can with what you have” replaces the connotations latent in the word “gospel,” the implications of which might limit the group to Christian African Americans. Instead, as noted on the group’s website, the five founders of the choir deliberately chose a Swahili name, “allow[ing] for all modes of Diasporic expression” and rejecting the limitations of the name “Harvard-Radcliffe Gospel Choir.” In the same way that the choir’s founders accounted for the diversity of Black experience, its current leadership has made room in its ranks for singers of all creeds, races, and nationalities. In fact, Kuumba is the only chorus on campus that does not require an audition; all are welcome.
Founded as a safe space for the growing black community on campus in 1970, the choir now includes appreciating black creativity as part of is mission. As one of Harvard’s most talented and prestigious choruses, Kuumba naturally attracts some of the College’s finest singers. But as it is so much more than a choir, membership demands far more than musical ability or even an appreciation for black culture. Beyond just enjoying spirituals or African folk songs, the choir fosters an understanding of where this music came from and the history and experiences that helped create it. As Liz Panarelli ’07, a Kuumba singer who considers herself white, put it like this: broadly, across ethnicities, races and identities, “it would be difficult for someone to fit in, both for themselves and for the choir, without an open mind.” Tabitha Macharia ’08, another singer, agrees. “I hope that everyone comes with… a basic respect for the culture and history that has come before. Respect is encapsulated in a lot of different ways. You come to practice on time...It’s also about respect for other people’s experience. We always make an effort to make sure people learn about other people’s experiences.”
Members remain committed to preserving the safe space and “source of unity and strength for the black students” it has always been. In fact, the warmth of its community has defined and enriched many students’ experiences. Kuumba’s promise of such a welcoming community is often as much of an attraction to new members as its prestigious reputation, broad diversity, and powerful music.
“I was looking for people who were like me… I was looking to be around black people quite frankly.” said Valonda Harris ’09 in describing her choice of Kuumba over other singing groups as a freshman. “At home, everyone looked like me. When I came here, I was trying to involve myself with anything associated with the black community.” But Harris soon discovered that the society she found in Kuumba “had nothing to do with race, I found. The community is so much more meaningful because it’s not built on shared race and political affiliation, but was a community of people who appreciate music and black culture.”
This broadened perspective is a common phenomenon within the group. Members repeatedly declare that “Kuumba is so much more than a choir.” President Naabia Ofosu-Amaah ’07 says, “It’s about a lot more than just singing. I really grew to appreciate, yes, the songs that we sing… but also that we deal with a lot of issues of race, identity, and oppression.”
“I always felt like I had more to learn from being in Kuumba because it is a place where you can talk about really challenging issues with people you care a lot about” said Pannarelli. It was there that she said she learned the difference between telling the truth in a respectful way and being quiet out of political correctness. She maintains that it is important that Kuumba forces its members to confront issues, makes them uncomfortable at times and challenges them to keep learning.
These poignant discussions do more than help members appreciate black culture; in the process, many learn more about themselves. Macharia, originally from Kenya, says joining Kuumba was something of an exploration for her because she initially did not consider herself black. Now, she says, Kuumba has given her something positive to help her become more acquainted with the history of the black people and “has helped me become more secure with my identity….The question of insider/outsider does not really sit on my mind.”
Yet, as evident from the experiences of Macharia and many others, the question inevitably arises as to how much people who are not black can really understand “the black experience.” At some point, Kuumba’s two functions collide and the openness of its membership and discussions can interfere with its provision of a “safe space” for the black community. Every year, the membership has intense discussions on how to reconcile the two missions. According to the leaders, at times it would appear that the choir has failed in providing a safe space because some members who are uncomfortable with “outsiders” always leave. White members have also left because they did not see themselves as capable of fully appreciating the black experience or because they felt they were a detriment to the choir.
Panarelli distinguishes between feeling safe and feeling comfortable. She remarked, “I think that… it’s important for me to feel uncomfortable and for me to be in situations where I don’t fit a mold or don’t belong. I think that is an experience black people often feel and white people don’t. I think it’s important to have that experience. I do not want to have that experience at the cost of other people’s safety in the group… I wouldn’t stay if I didn’t feel overtly welcomed by the group’s leadership… In Kuumba we can maintain a safe space and be uncomfortable and that’s how I reconcile it.”
“People ultimately make a personal choice,” says Macharia. Kuumba’s leadership refuses to make the choice for the group, but attempts to maintain a forum for free discussion of these perhaps irresolvable issues. “It is difficult to be both a black person in the choir with non-white people celebrating black culture and vice versa,” acknowledges Ofosu-Amaah.
A similar problem arises with Kuumba’s selection of gospel music without religious aims. While some Christians have left because of this, others find a way to reconcile their spirituality with the secularism of the choir. Amanda Fields ’09, who identifies as Christian, explains that Kuumba has “turned into a place where I see God moving” and sees it as her personal way of spreading God’s love, whether the audience experiences it in the same way or not. “The songs we sing… a lot of them talk about God and Jesus and the way He moves and my personal feeling is singing that music and being a part of it is a way of understanding it.” At the same time, it does not bother her that non-Christians in the choir sing, not out of spiritual reverence, but out of love for the music itself. “You come to Kuumba with respect for the music and their presence isn’t in any way demeaning to the music,” she said, adding that Kuumba is “a place where you are loved beyond anything else.”
“A lot of the choral music that has been written has been religious. As long as people understand what the purpose of the music is and where it’s coming from…then I think it’s okay for people to sing it,” reasons Ofosu-Amaah, who considers herself “loosely Christian.”
Diversity is never quite the pretty picture painted in college recruiting pamphlets. Oftentimes, embracing one’s own race or cultures comes at the exclusion of others. Harvard certainly boasts a diverse community, but to what extend can members of one culture appreciate and identify with members of another. Kuumba is a unique example of an encounter between different cultures. While these encounters can create some its conflicts and unanswerable questions, it appears that Kuumba’s leadership has been as successful as any multicultural organization can be in both creating a safe space and in fostering an understanding and appreciation of racial issues today. Racial lines blur and the voices of the choir transcend color and experience as members share an appreciation for music that cannot be limited to one group.
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