Production Funding for this program was provided in part by the Jane K and the Robert C. Stevens Fund for new programing (music by Womba Africa) - [Teej] Kwanzaa is an African American and Pan-African celebration of culture, community, and family that was created in the United States in 1966.

- Kwanzaa is a seven-day celebration, shall I say, of culture and history of African Americans.

It begins in December and ends on January 1.

So it is a very sacred thing for those us who trying to get connected with the best part of what preceded our coming into the world.

- [Teej] Swahili and the number seven are essential to Kwanzaa.

It's name has seven letters, seven principles guide it, and it has seven symbols that represent values that contribute to community building.

A table is set and those seven symbols are placed on it.

The Mkeka is the mat that represents the foundation we build on.

The Kinara is a candle holder that symbolizes African roots.

Mishumaa Saba are seven candles that represent the values Black people are urged to live by.

Mazao are crops that represent African harvest festivals.

Muhindi is corn that symbolizes the number of children in the family because they embody the future.

Zawadi are gifts given on the last day of Kwanzaa that symbolize the labor and love of the parents.

And Kikombe Cha Umoja, the Unity Cup, which represents unity, the foundational principle of Kwanzaa.

(people singing in foreign language) - [Teej] Each evening begins with a libation ceremony, a ritual dedicated to honoring and remembering our ancestors.

Ase (upbeat music) - Our fathers and mothers came here.

Lived, loved, struggled, and built here.

In this place, their love and labor rose like the sun and gave strength and meaning to the day.

To them then who gave so much, we give in return.

On the same soil, we will sow our own seeds and move in unity and strength.

Here then, we will continue their struggle for liberation and a higher level of human life.

May our eyes be the eagle, our strength be the elephant, and the boldness of our lives be like the lion.

And may we remember and honor our ancestors and the legacy that they left for as long as the sun shines and the waters flow.

For our people everywhere, for Shaka, Samory, and Nzingha and all others known and unknown who defended our ancestral land, history, and humanity from alien invaders, we pour libation.

(upbeat music) For Garvey, Muhammad, Malcolm, and King, Harriet, Fannie Lou, Sojourner, Bethune, and Nat Turner and all the others who dared to define, defend, and develop our interest as a people, we pour libation.

(upbeat music) For our children and the fuller and freer lives they will live because we struggle, we pour libation.

(Terry speaking in foreign language) It followed the uprisings that were going on in this country in the early '60s.

So as a way to bring the community back together and to kind of settle things and give people a value system that they could live with, then Dr. Karenga came up with the Nguzo Saba, which are seven principles.

- I think that to continue to celebrate Kwanzaa is my way to express my love of community.

I really do love and care for my community.

And so it is my contribution, my love of Kwanzaa because of its power to bring good in the world.

- You have an opportunity and you are expected to speak on behalf of the best things that have come your way and then ask for some of the things that have not thus far.

So it's a matter of being involved in a higher, richer level of community.

Come to unity.

- You can bring your faith to Kwanzaa celebrations, bringing good into the world, appreciating your neighbor, loving one another.

Dr. Karenga did a lot of research on harvest celebrations in Africa.

And if you ask anyone who is from a country in Eastern Africa where they speak Kiswahili, they will tell you that the principles line up.

So, you know, when you're looking at each principle and you're saying it in Kiswahili and the translation, they're saying that the translation is real.

- It is the language that, again, reminds us, but the principles, to be self-determined, to not let anyone else to define you, that's extremely important to Black people.

Look what others have tried to do to us.

And so it's very important for us to define ourselves.

The collective work and responsibility.

We are responsible for one another.

Cooperative economics, you know, it just helps us, you know.

Poverty is one of the main prongs of racism.

And so when you can lift yourself from that, then you're on your way to something else, something good, purposeful living.

What do I have to say?

You should wake up every day with something to do, something on your mind, something to accomplish.

It makes you feel better.

Otherwise, what you doing?

Creativity, I'm an artist, so I have to think that creativity is at the core of what I do.

It's at the core of everything that I think that makes life colorful and beautiful.

And, of course, faith.

If you don't believe in something yourself and your community and your God, you don't have any hope, and hope is what keeps us going.

(upbeat music) - I'm gonna ask everyone join together- - [Teej] Each day of Kwanzaa starts with a greeting.

(narrator speaking in foreign language) Meaning, what's the news?

The answer is the name of the principle.

(upbeat music) Habari gani Umoja (upbeat music) - [Teej] Unity, to strive for and maintain unity in the family, community, nation, and race.

(upbeat music) - I'm Miss Melba, that nappy-haired, Gullah Geechee Creole, born and raised, rooted on the North Shore of the New Orleans in a small town of Covington, Louisiana, straight up country.

(upbeat music) When I do that introduction, I want people to know that I'm very comfortable with who I am, and definitely, if you really wanna know who I am, go and take a look at it.

What does that Gullah Geechee look like?

What does that, what is that history?

What is that Creole history, being raised up down South?

Yeah, that's a critical piece.

I didn't really get introduced to Kwanzaa until I moved to Seattle, and it would have been after 1986 when someone I was having a conversation with informed me that her family was doing Kwanzaa.

And then she explained Kwanzaa to me.

And when she explained it to me, I said, "Well, gee, I didn't know that's what that was called, Kwanzaa, because my family's been doing that forever."

As a matter of fact, when I was five years old, we'd go from my aunt's house to my other aunt's house and then we would, you know, for that whole week, and then we end up over at my grandma's house for celebration of the holidays, but I didn't know that that was Kwanzaa.

Then when I looked at it, I went back and did a little research on Kwanzaa, and I realized that this was something that was relatively new, but it was, it's rooted in African culture, which made sense to me.

When you look at African culture and the more direct link to African culture, you're gonna find that through the people of the Gullah Geechee, because of the fact that you had all of these different African tribes coming in during the time of enslavement and they're all housed there on this island, and this island definitely was, you know, separated for years.

So those cultures can be linked all the way back, clearly, to Africa.

Northwest Tap Connection is a race and social-justice-oriented studio.

We teach all dance forms of blackness.

So any dance form that we classify as blackness, then we're gonna teach here.

We are an organization that is really with an emphasis on children of color, both in the gaps within the arts, giving job opportunity to artists of color, and providing space that those artists and the studio, the youth in the studio can create pieces that are relevant to our past, present, and future.

The young people that come to Northwest Tap is usually because families want them to understand blackness, and especially in the city of Seattle where, you know, we are a small percentage of youth.

And so they want them to be rooted and to know our history because it's not just about the dance, it's about holding them accountable for black excellence, holding them accountable for knowing their history.

And then on top of that, I want them to be able to dance.

The principles of Kwanzaa are based on ethical living.

We can sit here and say, all right, this is the Kwanzaa and this is what we're celebrating, but that's not just about we're celebrating on that one day and I think that people need to understand that holistically.

When we talk about unity, that this studio is built on that.

The success of this studio is not just Ms. Melba because we teach that the success of a leader is based on the followers that stand behind them.

So definitely, that's definitely here.

- Black is the eternal presence of all colors creatively intertwined.

The color of peace infused with principle living, determination, cultural unity, purpose, Ujima, Ujamaa, and yeah, you got to have that Imani.

Black is black, is free and open to the public, but its essence is not yours to take.

Black is block party speakers blasting black bass beats over nodding nappy heads, carnival drums swirling Black rhythms around hips and barefoot souls stay deep in shades of red.

Black lingerers longer, burns stronger, feels longer.

Black burns brighter, holds tighter, all nighter.

Black, well worth the fight, keeps you warm at night.

Black is the color.

Yeah, black is the color of black skies, moon pies, sunrise, past lives, Black Sea, black berry, black magic, black lives, black ties, black pots and kettle, black dust don't settle.

Black, black, black is the color.

Black is the color of love.

(upbeat music) Habari gani Kujichagulia (upbeat music) - [Teej] Self-determination, to define ourselves, name ourselves, create for ourselves, and speak for ourselves.

(upbeat music) - The Nguzo Saba, seven principles, are a foundation for how we as people of the African diaspora living in America should live our lives.

It's a foundation for how I choose to move in the world.

Kujichagulia is one of my favorites because for centuries, other people have tried to name us.

We were the N-word, we were Negro, we were Afro-Americans, we are African Americans, we are Black.

We get to name ourselves.

And so being able to name ourselves, define ourselves, speak for ourselves, essential to our healing and our wellness as a people.

Being a healer means that I work with my people, people of the African diaspora, to heal the emotional wounds of the interruption of our natural journey, which means that the thing known as the Maafa or the transatlantic slave trade was an interruption of the history of African peoples and the 400-plus years of serial force displacement, enslavement, killing, lynching, abuse, subjugation, peonage, you name the thing.

And now in this modern era, mass incarceration, blight, poverty, drugs that have been put upon our people, my, part of my role as a healer is to help us be able to defy the lie of white superiority and Black inferiority for us to heal as a people because healing has to come before liberation.

There have been things over the past 500 years of our journey that have sought to, on multiple levels, impact the mental health of Black peoples.

Racialized trauma has been with us through our entire existence on this continent.

And so it has had an impact on, in multiple ways.

You see, people see the outward things like, you know, where people have outbursts and people may complete suicide, but there's also people who are living with chronic depression and things that they cannot name.

And because of all of the attacks on blackness, there has been this thing where we don't tell, we don't show, we don't talk about, but it is just a manifestation, again, of anti-blackness and white supremacy that is seeking to keep us as a permanent underclass.

So what, part of the big part for me is to be able to say, let us move forward.

You cannot heal what you don't reveal.

So if we were able to peel these things back and create safe spaces where we can peel these things back and dig them out and deal with them and heal them, then they are no longer weights and they're no longer obstacles to our growth and our liberation.

Society wants to always talk about what's wrong with us.

Black on Black crime.

You know, the tropes around Black women, angry and all these other things.

What we need to do is have a different conversation.

What happened to us?

Every other ethnic and cultural group, people are able to define their trauma by what happened to them.

For us, it is being characterized and the narrative has been made that it's a moral failure and it's a lie from the pit.

What happened to us?

You know, no one would fault Jewish people for having trauma after the Holocaust.

No one would fault Native people for having trauma after the Trail of Tears and after serial forced displacement.

No one would fault Japanese people for having trauma after internment, right, in their own country.

Why is it that after 500 years of chattel slavery, Jim Crow, subjugation, that somehow that we are told to just come up and say, "Hey, we're all good."

And if we're not, it's somehow our fault.

Things happened to us.

(upbeat music) (upbeat music) Habari gani Ujima (upbeat music) - [Teej] Collective work and responsibility.

To build and maintain our community together and make our brother's and sister's problems our problems and to solve them together.

(upbeat music) - The Avenue Black Box Theatre is a, it's a communal space.

You know, it's a, we're a theater, but we're a lot more than that, you know.

We're a space that brings the community together under arts, culture, social justice, advocacy, and really a mission to transform this neighborhood that we're in, but in collaboration with the neighbors and families and youth that are a part of it.

So the Joseph Avenue neighborhood is a neighborhood that is rich with culture.

It is a neighborhood that, in my opinion, you know, deserves to have some light shined on it because it's a neighborhood where families live.

It's a neighborhood that is very diverse in the sense of our backgrounds, et cetera.

For example, we're a space that is elevating the voices and the ideas and the creativity of BIPOC individuals, Black individuals from this community, LGBTQ+ individuals.

And here in this neighborhood, that is what you will find.

There's just been an absence of artistic, you know, creative cultural spaces that will invite the community in to say, "Okay, let's highlight some of the things that we're interested in."

And for me, it really is about building that together.

It's about a co-creation process.

And this neighborhood is perfect for that.

For me, Kwanzaa was something that I've celebrated, wow, for over 20 years.

So what Kwanzaa means is coming together as a community to celebrate our heritage, celebrate our culture, celebrate our unique ability to create, you know, in our community in a way that's for us and by us.

It's interesting because if it wasn't for the energy of Ujima, collective work and responsibility, I don't know where I would be in terms of the Avenue Black Box Theater.

Because I didn't start this space with, you know, a million-dollar budget.

But what I did see was that when I looked around my community and as I started to talk to people about what I was trying to do here, it's a neighborhood that is in danger of blight and it needs a lot of love, but the community came forth to really love on this space.

And so when I say that, I mean from, you know, the idea of the first walls that got put up in this space, you know, being family members of close friends, even just working with other arts institutions and theaters and the performing arts spaces and companies here, of folks who just said, "Okay, hey, let's figure out what we have in excess, for example, and that we can donate to the space."

I think that's something that, you know, has been really special to me and it also has been modeling to, again, our young people, right?

Who are seeing these individuals that, you know, in their own right are, you know, professionals and creatives and educators in our community.

They're actually coming into this space and volunteering their time and making sure that we have what we need, but it's also also teaching them in so many ways.

And that also is Ujima, you know.

These collaborative productions that we are definitely known for here at the avenue, those are what absolutely embodies the spirit of Ujima.

What's both unique and special about the energy that we create here, the spirit of Kwanzaa, you know, moving through this space, the spirit of the Nguzo Saba moving through this space organically, and it's something that I'm very proud of.

(upbeat jazz music) (upbeat music) Habari gani Ujamaa (upbeat music) - [Teej] Cooperative economics.

To build and maintain our own stores, shops, and other businesses, and to profit from them together.

(upbeat music) (soft upbeat music) - We opened August 29th, 2020.

We both have a passion, you know, not just for retail, but also for books, for black literature.

And you know, we've talked for years about opening a business, about starting a bookstore and, you know, the opportunity made itself available during COVID of all times.

And, you know, we set out, we made our plan and executed.

I was thinking about words that dealt with the mind, right?

So the word, cerebral, kind of resonated, you know, and, you know, we thought about cerebral kingdom and like, you know, it's got a nice ring to it.

It embodies, you know, what we're trying to do, create something powerful that impacts the mind, that feeds people mentally and allows them to, you know, allow people to really tap into what's inside of them.

- I believe our store encompasses each one of the seven principles of Kwanzaa.

So I think Kwanza just reinforces everything that we should be celebrating daily.

Not only as African Americans, but as people, humans, period.

Being better people, striving to just be a better human to ourselves and to each other.

- The energy here, that's important for us, you know.

The aesthetics, everything, it's very intentional.

This is our one grain of sand, right, to the community, something that we hope will be a legacy, right?

For our children, for our grandchildren.

There's no greater honor than, I think, than to open a business and especially something meaningful, right?

As a bookstore, hopefully, that'll develop into a cultural hub, right, in your hometown.

And, you know, this aligns, this is not in competition with anything else that's going on.

It aligns with everything else that is happening in our hood and every other effort that's being put forth.

So I think we're both very proud of that.

- [Zakiya] We're here to inspire, enlighten, and empower.

- And just to add to that, you know, you'll see for some people, it may not be familiar images such as our logo.

Our logo is an Adinkra symbol.

It's the Nea Onim, which means, he who does not know can know through learning.

And so the symbol just simply means that it's, there's a lifelong commitment to knowledge, to education, to learning more.

You'll also see the Pan-African flag outside which encompasses everything relating to the African diaspora.

That is the symbol that ties us all together where whether you're here in America, whether you're in Nigeria, whether you're in Jamaica, wherever you may be, and, you know, that's what we represent and that's what we're projecting and we'd love for everyone in the community to, at some point, stop by and see us and just take a look.

And I'm sure it'll be something that'll be inspirational to you.

Most of us may understand that, you know, in many communities, there's a certain amount of circulation of their dollar right before it exits.

So they deal with each other from the standpoint of, you know, not just consumerism, right?

But also manufacturing, production, you know, transportation, logistics, all of those things tie into economics.

And so I think what that means for us is we have to be active in seeking out not just Black businesses and shops, but also Black distribution companies, Black manufacturers, and make sure that, you know, even us, our responsibility is to see when we see Black dollars come in, that we are responsible with our vendors, right?

We can't just, you know, go and buy books at certain places because they're cheaper, right?

We have to be true to our business model.

We have to be true to that culture.

And the economic piece is very important.

So another key part of this is to help people understand history, right?

And where they come from so that they have some reference to say, hey, we've done this once before.

We can do it again.

If we only see our community and ourselves through our present lens, it'll be very difficult to kind of change that condition that we're in.

(upbeat music) My name is Harriet Tubman.

Is it okay if I just talk to you for a minute?

God is real in my life.

(yeah) Many a day I've been out there on that trail, taking people out of bondage, all across the north to freedom.

And it gets so bad .

you wasn't even free in the free states, because the law passed to say if you are a runaway any place in the states, you will still a slave.

But you , all of you, you all got a chance.

You got a chance to help them , that's in bondage, get out of bondage.

You might say, it ain't slaves no more.

But we all know theres still slaves.

(Yeah).

There may not be physical chains, but they are still in bondage.

Wihen you get tired and feel like you don't want to go no more.

things might be hard for you right now, but you gotta keep going.

You got to keep going.

Keep going.

Keep a going, keep going.

(upbeat music) Habari gani (person speaking in foreign language) (upbeat music) - [Teej] Purpose, to make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore our people to their traditional greatness.

(upbeat music) - I was inspired to get into education by my mom and my parents.

Growing up, we grew up in a church in Buffalo, New York, and we were always in Sunday school.

It was a way for us to stay out of trouble, I guess, but to also just stay connected to our church family.

And as we got older, it was always a badge of honor if you became the Sunday school teacher.

So I grew up teaching in Sunday school, but it wasn't really my passion at the time.

My passion was to be an FBI agent or an attorney.

Those are the two things that I was most connected to.

And my junior year in college, our basketball team had to do community service.

And I met this young man at a Boys and Girls Club who had struggles with reading in math.

And I started to tutor him, and I realized that I had this passion for helping others and I switched my major from history and political science to education and the rest is history.

I think the idea of purpose is important.

Our purpose has always been about giving to others and the importance of investing in the community and taking care of the village.

And so education is, I think, the perfect space to give back.

You get to give back to students directly.

You get to support development of staff in ways they give to hundreds and thousands of kids forever.

But I think in this role as superintendent and in my role at the University of Rochester, I'm able to be a bridge between the community resources and the home.

And some of this, the disparities in education, I think lack of access for students and their families.

And so we are trying to address structural issues within society while at the same time giving students an opportunity to imagine things much greater than themselves.

Seven years ago, the University of Rochester was asked to assume responsibility for this school.

At the time, the graduation rates was 29%.

Seven years later, we're happy that the graduation rate is near 86%.

And it really speaks to according the effort between the University of Rochester and this school community.

And the school community again is parents and students and staff and administrators.

And so I would tell people that understanding the context of a situation is as important as trying to apply some type of content knowledge to the problem.

And I believe our transformation here and the rates of change here is a true indication that you have to know the environment that you're entering before you start to assign dollars and resources to address those unique challenges.

So if you walk through the halls of East, you see history everywhere from the flags to our outside courtyard that focuses on individuals who had a positive impact on our youth past and present.

And so I think representation is important.

And to assume that a teacher or a set of teachers are teaching our history in books, I think it's a flawed assumption.

I think we have students who don't know their history.

We have teachers who may not had a background that allowed them to get to know our history authentically.

And so schools play a pivotal role in unpacking some of those nuances between the unknown and the known.

And to the extent possible, we will continue to fund and support initiative that allow our students to see the representation of themselves throughout the school space.

We're going to be cutting the ribbon on a huge panel that celebrates a moment in which Malcolm X was here with Minister Florence and Constance Mitchell.

And we are partnering with a local artist to create a huge mural that will face Main Street.

And how symbolic is that?

To take someone who meant so much to the black community but was a pain for others who didn't understand his coming into himself.

Facing Main Street in the middle of a community that was once segregated is not only symbolic, it's, it represents our path forward and understanding who our civil rights leaders were, their impact on the community, even those that were, may have been unpopular.

And so to have Malcolm X and to have people like Marcus Garvey and other folks who are outspoken advocates for our community be a permanent fixture within the East High School is something that I'm extremely proud of.

And I think it's something that will last forever within this community.

My purpose, the reason why I name my firstborn, Nia, was a commitment to changing our society systemically by working with large groups of individuals so that we don't reinforce this unicorn philosophy or trying to find the one black or brown kid out the bunch who displays some exceptionalism.

I think if our systems and structures are aligned in ways that allow all kids to thrive, then we will have many, many, many kids breaking these barriers that our systems and structures have created for them and their parents.

- [Poet] The kitchen with yesterday's watermelon and Monday's tears 'cause true ladies don't know how to clean.

It's intellectual devastation of everyone to avoid emotional commitment.

Yeah, honey, I would have married him if he had had a.

- Degree.

- Degree.

- [Poet] It's not me.

Mini-skirted, wig-wearing, dye blonde, mama's God, born dead, rough heel, broken nails, powder face, one whose life is tied up to what happened 'cause it's the only real thing that I know.

- I know.

- I know.

- I know.

(drums beating) - [Poet] But I feel no suffocation.

Instead, I feel a dance of jubilation coming on, twirling me through a rich heritage of positive, distinct forces.

(upbeat music) Habari gani Kuumba (upbeat music) - [Teej] Creativity, to do always as much as we can in the way that we can in order to leave our community more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited it.

(upbeat music) - I did celebrate Kwanzaa with my children as they were growing up.

We would attend all the events, we would hold our ceremonies at home, exchange our Zawadis.

It was actually a full, connected part of my life.

As time went on, they became teenagers and then they're like, all right, we know we're just gonna do our own thing and make things happen.

But I've had the opportunity to revive that with my grandchildren, so I get to reintroduce myself to it.

And so it's a good thing when you can actually carry on that tradition.

And when I do it with my grandchildren, my children were all together during the time period, you know, and they're like, "Hey, I remember that."

It's just all these kind of things that we would do to try and make it more of a creative and connective approach within our household.

So yeah, it's really dear, near and dear to me.

There are many levels to how one experiences creativity.

It's a lot of times, I think, when we think of creativity, we think of the physical world that is being affected, but creativity stems from the soul, from the spirit.

And when one spirit is ignited, you do have that ability to ignite a flame or create a spark in someone else's spirit in moving forward.

So I think when I think about the spirit of creativity and the principle of Kuumba, I think about that ignition.

How do I ignite whatever it is I feel is the creative portion in my life, where that, really, that spirit of when do we find that point of connection?

And so as a creative, I try to find those points where someone might find that point of connection, that spark of creativity within, and that position to find Kuumba within their soul, within their spirits.

In Rochester, New York, we have this large amphitheater where people gather and concerts happen, Martin Luther King Jr. Park.

I want to paint that bowl completely black.

And so I did.

I had a, I put out a call, I said, I let people come and volunteer, and people were coming and they're painting the walls.

We started painting the walls and everything.

And then I had another day of painting the floors.

So we get it done, we leave out chalk.

And in hours, it was covered in messages about what people felt because this was a gathering point where people would gather to protest.

And so once you have to realize that a protest is about the energy of art and creativity, because what you're bringing is protest signs, which are visual portions.

You're chanting, you're dancing, you're doing poems, you're marching, you're doing all these things that are arts and creatively based.

And I realize that when you have that circle and that energy, and once that dissipates, once everyone leaves, how do you keep that energy there?

How do you keep it going?

So I felt, I'm gonna just turn this into one of the largest installations that we have in this region and let people go at it, and that's what they did.

They took it, they completely took it over from top to bottom to ground, covering it with messages and remembering, you know, Daniel Prude and all these things were happening.

It became the people's space where they would gather and come together.

And it just showed what was really needed during that point of the pandemic and the point of rising.

And I felt like we had the Black Lives Matter symbol, we had the fist painted on the ground, I felt like I needed something else.

So what I did was our, I took our city's logo, which has these five petals representing the flower mills and also the lilac flower.

And I took one of the petals out and I put the Black Lives Matter fist in there because I think we needed something to identify with our city directly.

At East High, there's this project called, "The Eyes on The Prize".

And I was trying to figure out, what do we wanna do?

They said they wanted to have a way to remember people from the past, the present.

I was like, let's just paint their eyes because I was taught you look people in the eyes and that's how you address them and that's how you know you're gonna be genuine and real and connected.

You make eye to eye contact.

And so I felt, if this is where we're going, let's make eye to eye contact with these people, and you may not even know who they are.

So what, we worked with the school to set up an actual, so there actually is a curriculum.

Working with Dr. Shaun Nelms on that.

He was like, "Yeah, this is an investment.

We're gonna use this as a teaching tool so that people understand who these folks are."

So we did the national people, international people, and we did local people.

I am kind of particular about what I wanna do because I wanna make sure that it has some sort of impact besides me just making something.

It has to add some other levels.

I always believe in exposure and mentoring.

And so one of the young men who worked with me on that project and ended up working with me throughout a couple of summers, he went on to excel in his artistic success.

And he returned and came back and did a phenomenal piece of John Lewis down here in our downtown.

So we work together.

It's that mentorship and working together.

He's like, "I wanna give back.

I learned how to give back.

I learned how to listen and how to give back."

And he's currently gonna be working on a piece on East High.

So, but this is what happens.

So now we, once again, you look forward, you give a push.

And so now there's a whole new wave of Black creators that are out here that are doing things that are making things happen.

(upbeat music) - [Teej] On the night of December 31st, a vibrant party takes place.

The Karamu, or great feast, was traditionally for adults.

But when held during the early evening, children are encouraged to participate.

The Karamu is a time to celebrate brother and sisterhood, to remember recommit, reassess, and rejoice.

- The farewell statement in Kwanzaa, the last thing that we say to each other before we leave is the.

TAMISHI LA TUTAONANA And the, it basically says, let us come back next year in greater number and greater happiness.

And so it's basically just saying, goodbye, farewell, see you next year.

Live the Nguzo Saba all year long and come back next year for us to celebrate all the good that has been done.

(group speaking in foreign language) ♪ Hallelujah ♪ Give Him the glory ♪ For He's worthy ♪ Hallelujah is the highest praise ♪ ♪ Hallelujah ♪ Hallelujah ♪ Give him the glory (upbeat music) Habari gani Imani (upbeat music) - [Teej] Faith.

To believe in all our heart, in our people, our parents, our teachers, our leaders, and the righteousness and victory of our struggle.

(upbeat music) - My inspiration and all that I do comes from a really strong source of being in love with the creator, in love with my parents, and in love with the art form.

I've done work in coaching and now I'm a spiritual coach and I didn't do that to actually just coach people as opposed to using it in my art form because dance is so powerful.

And I said, if I can create a dance and bring people in and it make a difference in their life, then I feel so wonderful.

And if someone in the audience that comes up and says, "Thank you.

I receive that."

Then I feel like I have accomplished my assignment on this earth.

Kwanzaa is so beautiful because when you choose to celebrate it, 365 days of the year, that's when it's really empowered.

I'm a cultural artist, and being an African American woman and studying slave narratives, one of the things I realized as it relates to Kwanzaa is that during the time of our ancestors, when slavery was going on, the seven principles were actually in place.

Umoja, which means unity.

Kujichagulia, self-determination.

Ujima, collective work and responsibility.

So these principles were happening naturally and the sisterhood of African American women that know love and are centered in love and strength, whose fire, spirit, courage, and endurance have given us a foundation as a people to continue.

That's what the Kwanzaa principles can do for us if we choose to celebrate it.

I started dancing and performing as early as three because my mother was a dancer, singer, performer.

And then I went on to go to traditional dance studios.

Wheat Street Baptist Church was just great.

Allowed me to dance, so I was doing liturgical dance.

So it's just been an ongoing part of my life.

And I was inspired while attending Princeton University, working on my African American studies certification and studying slave narratives had so much of an impact on me that the way that I handled it was by creating.

I've always had a love for drums.

When I would hear drums, something inside would burn deep.

And I can remember that as a child.

It's like a sum total of all my experiences.

The love for drums and then my love that I acquired for modern dance, I started creating, combining modern and African.

And then I had an opportunity to begin to study African dance through a great pioneer, Chuck Davis.

And then one year I received an Ailey Scholarship and being elated to be, say, one of 30 that was selected for that.

They had a class there called Dunham Technique.

So I began to choreograph, combining my, the elements of modern and African.

The modern and African was just so like important to me.

It became important to my life.

I called it Mojah.

And then I met Katherine Dunham.

She gave me the confidence to know that what I was doing was okay.

My art form is very spiritual.

And in studying African dance, I receive that my dances have meaning.

It doesn't mean I don't do it for entertainment, but it always has a purpose.

And in sharing that purpose through the movements themself, through the quality of the energy, through the meaning of that particular movement, I want the dancers to receive and to give and the audience to receive.

What I want to do is to promote an art form that is also spiritual.

I think what I would like people to know is that they can discover the passion within themselves, but I want them to know Kwanzaa.

I want them to know culture.

I want them to know community.

I want them to know love, and that it's inside of them.

I would like Mojah to be a light for other people to embrace their light.

- [Teej] The last day of Kwanzaa is a day of remembrance and reflection.

- [Delores] Kwanzaa is such a dynamic part of culture and it shows how there have always been freedom movements for Black people in this Western hemisphere.

And so out of the abolitionist cause that comes from the roots of right in our community, out of the early turn of the 20th century, all the riots, and Tulsa wasn't the only place where Black people were terrorized through economic means in every way possible.

But every time, Black people come up with a way to heal ourselves.

And right up until Black Lives matter, a part of this cultural continuum of rescuing and recovering ourselves through culture and our tremendous spiritual power.

- One of the key things that we really want people to understand, the principles are there for a reason.

And all of them, ultimately, come to, you know, people being able to prosper and to get along with one another.

And that spills out from the community into the world.

We talk about the ancestors often.

It's important to acknowledge those individuals because we are carrying their legacy.

And it's important for us to let the young people know that they are not only carrying our legacy, but they are carrying the legacy of the grandparents, the great, great grand.

And there's a belief that the ancestors are also kind of your agents, your connection to the supreme being, because who knows you better than those who helped to raise you?

- We have the opportunity to look at what happened in our own family and how did other communities come out of it without that kind of mishap, as you go forward with the notion that I'm looking to help us have a better community.

Have to be or should be, can be better by we who have taken the time to listen and to offer a discussion of having a better come to unity.

We can do that.

We ought to do it.

We must do it.

(upbeat music) - Who I was, was an abandoned, homeless Black girl living in the Port Authority in New York City, who was taken in by a missionary in Rochester, New York through a serendipitous set of circumstances and said, "This will not be your future."

Who I am is the woman who has bought fully into my purpose and as seeking to create healing for my people.

Who I hope to be and dream to be is the manifestation of my ancestors' wildest dreams.

(upbeat music) Production Funding for this program was provided in part by the Jane K and the Robert C. Stevens Fund for new programing (dramatic music)