We are living in strange and turbulent times with great revolutionary potential. I am hit by waves of emotion as tens of thousands of protesters have taken to the streets to have their voices heard. Calling for an end to the deaths of black people in custody. To speak out against the systematic racism embedded in our society and for an acknowledgement of our oppressive colonial history.
I grew up in apartheid South Africa where racism was written into law. For my parents generation, if you were white and opposed to that vile regime, speaking out could cost you your freedom. Liberal people were branded communists, and communists could be put in jail without trial.
Living under the politics of racism and segregation, the threat of army conscription for my dad and violent oppression of black citizens, was too much for them. We left in 1986. We were lucky (and privileged) enough to be able to leave and moved to a small green utopia in the pacific: New Zealand.
There I could grow up in a safe, liberal country. But Colonialism leaves a stain in more ways than one. New Zealand has its own racist history and institutional racism to acknowledge and root out. “Māori are six times more likely to be handcuffed, 11 times more likely to be subdued with pepper spray, six times more likely to be batoned, nine times more likely to have dogs set on them, ten times more likely to be tasered and nine times more likely to have firearms drawn against them by police.”
As the Black Lives Matters protests have highlighted, this institutional racism is still rife in the “liberal-democracies” of the USA and UK. Working within these political systems has not enabled people from BAME communities to be heard. If it had there would be no need for them to protest. And if you protest (even in the UK or USA): pepper spray, rubber bullets, beatings, cavalry charges and kettling are all potential hazards. On top of the risk of arrest due to anti-protesting laws.
But we must continue to speak out. We need to speak up for truth and justice, against oppression and inequality. We can use our voice to echo and amplify the voices of others who need allies and support. We can offer our voices in solidarity of the Black Lives Matter movement. And we must raise our voices together.
Clowning can offer a unique and beautiful voice to work with in protest. Clowns speak truth to power. That is one of their historic roles as the court jester or fool, able to highlight the king’s failings with relative impunity. Clown can hold emotional spaces and are able to explore difficult subjects with playfulness and innocence. The clown also reminds us of our humanity. They can see past the anger and the fear to the scared child beneath and ask the simple question, “do you need a hug?” And let's not forget that the clown can also bring joy to the oppositional spaces of protest; connecting us all through humour and play.
Would you like to explore your voice through the clown? Here are three wonderful clown workouts to find, unlock and raise your voice:
“I am, I am, I am" – is a wonderful exercise led by Jacqueline Whymark that helps you connect to your voice by drawing strength and power through 3 simple sentences, each beginning with ‘I am…’
“Singing the Sound” – Aisha leads us through a joyful exploration to find the sonic resonances of objects around us.
“Voice workouts” – Artie Godden offers three different vocal exercises from different clown pedagogies to explore the playful spirit of the voice; ‘Opposites’, ‘Sing a Song you don’t know’ and ‘Asking questions’ bring a lovely connection to pleasure and authenticity and play.