For one weekend every year, Commodore Barry Park in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, transforms itself from a normal municipal park into a sanctuary for openness and expression as host to the Afropunk festival. For too many years, the very occasion of Black people in America occupying ordinary spaces has been viewed as a threat, a reality captured by cellphones and disseminated on social media in the era of Black Lives Matter as African Americans are confronted by law enforcement after a white person puts a call in to the police. Since Afropunk’s debut in 2005, Commodore Barry Park has provided a space for people of color to be who they choose and find enjoyment in a variety of attractions. For this year’s festival, I was interested in asking attendees what it means for them to be in a space like Afropunk.
Ekow, from Toronto: ‘I think it’s beautiful! I think it’s beautiful to see Blackness coming together and this sort of way being celebrated.‘
Key, from Baltimore: ‘Culture for real — like getting to see the different flavors of all my people, ’cause we’re all not one set thing. It’s great to see everyone in their own little lane or whatever, and it’s just good seeing everybody just enjoying the day, enjoying the music, enjoying each other’s company.’
Afropunk Fest attendees walking toward the Gold Stage area in Commodore Barry Park
‘I love it. I always feel free. It’s my second year and the energy is complete love. Love. I love it. Love it, love it, love it,’ says JaQuam from St. Martinville, Louisiana. ’I can express myself and be who I am. Not that I don’t do it everywhere else, but here it’s more accepted and celebrated at a very, very, very, very, very, very…high level.’
Flakes, from London: ‘The vibes are good, everyone’s excited — it’s not too pretentious!’
Attendees of Afropunk dancing to the music near the Gold Stage located in Commodore Barry Park
’It’s been really cool to see all the beautiful Black people with amazing outfits, amazing vibes. Everyone’s been so nice too,’ says Adam, from Montreal. ’It’s something that you don’t really get to see that often.’
’It’s beautiful! All this love?! What?! Oh my god, this is real,’ says Darryl, from Brooklyn. ’This is my third time here and it’s just nothing but pure, pure love, and that’s what we need. We need this. Every single day. Every single day. ’Cause this type of love is — you can’t beat this, nothin’ can’t beat this.’
Festivalgoers watch a performance by Daniel Caesar at Afropunk’s Red Stage in Commodore Barry Park.
’It’s really cool to be able to navigate a space where Black men just don’t have to fit the small kind of wiggle room that we have,’ says Thaddeus, from Manhattan. ’It really encourages all kinds of boundary-breaking of a sense. It really allows you to blur lines.’
’I feel like it’s the one place where I can honestly say I feel most free. Especially in this time,’ says Kristen, from Brooklyn. ’You know the world right now, there’s just so much bigotry and so much hatred, especially to people of color and people who are in the LGBTQ community. So you know — I feel like coming here, I’m around family.’
Fans at the Green Stage area watching a performance by rapper Smino
’It’s always a divine feeling when you have complexions of yourself being around and enjoying themselves as well,’ says festivalgoer Mel. ’We need more of that unity, more than just in America but also on a global scale.’
’I never really felt like I’ve been able to identify with my Black culture from apart of it being excluded from my upbringing when I was a child,’ says Anthony, who was visiting the festival from Compton, California. ’Me being queer, it’s a little harder to identify with Black culture because a lot of it is homophobic and ingrained in more religious roots that have homophobia intertwined in them. So for me to be in a place like this — and not feel so awkward or feel anxious or any type of way, negatively — it feels really good, really empowering.’
Afropunk revelers at the Red Stage area watching a performance by the Internet in Commodore Barry Park