AMY GOODMAN: And you are listening to Democracy Now!, as we turn now to Part 2 of our special with legendary civil rights singers Sweet Honey in the Rock. Since 1973, Sweet Honey in the Rock has reinvented a cappella music and introduced a generation to the roots of African American music, gospel, spirituals and hymns, as well as blues and jazz. The Grammy Award-winning group has released 18 albums and has toured the world. This year they’re celebrating their 30th anniversary together. It was 1973 when Bernice Johnson Reagon brought together the group of female singers to form this a cappella group. At the time. Dr. Reagon was the music director of the old D.C. Black Repertory Theater Company. The first song they practiced was called “Sweet Honey in the Rock.” The tune referenced a religious parable that spoke of a land so rich that when rocks were cracked open, honey flowed from them. On this 30th anniversary of Sweet Honey in the Rock, Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon will be moving on from the group, but we gathered them together in our firehouse studio for an hour.

SWEET HONEY IN THE ROCK: [performing “Would You Harbor Me”]

Would you harbor me?
Would I harbor you?
Would you harbor me?
Would I harbor you?

Would you harbor a Christian, a Muslim, a Jew?
A heretic, convict, or spy?
Would you harbor a runaway woman or child?
A poet, a prophet, a king?
Would you harbor an exile or a refugee?
A person living with AIDS?
Would you harbor a Tubman, a Garrett, a Truth?
A fugitive or a slave?
Would you harbor a Haitian, Korean, or Czech?
A lesbian or a gay?
Would you harbor a Christian, a Muslim, a Jew?
A heretic, convict, or spy?
Would you harbor a runaway woman or child?
A poet, a prophet, a king?
Would you harbor an exile or a refugee?
A person living with AIDS?
Would you harbor a Tubman, a Garrett, a Truth?
A fugitive or a slave?
Would you harbor a Haitian, Korean, or Czech?
A lesbian or a gay?

Would you harbor me?
Would I harbor you?
Would you harbor me?
Would I harbor you?

AMY GOODMAN: “Would You Harbor Me,” Sweet Honey in the Rock, the legendary musical group, live in our firehouse studios. Bernice Johnson Reagon, Ysaye Maria Barnwell, Aisha Kahlil, Carol Maillard, Nitanju Bolade Casel, and Shirley Childress Johnson is the signer today and a regular part of the group. Ysaye Maria Barnwell, can you talk about this song, “Would You Harbor Me”?

YSAYE MARIA BARNWELL: When I wrote this song, originally, it was actually for a dance theater piece. And it started with a discussion about slavery and how people — what people needed to do in order to escape, if that’s the path they decided to choose. And one of the things that we looked at was the fact that there were safe havens of some form along a path that people could stop at, if it was safe, and that there was a system that actually began to emerge, that would move people and help people move from point to point.

And we looked at today and what safe houses are there for people today. In the case of women who are abused, sometimes there are shelters. Sometimes there are welcoming communities that will harbor people who are fleeing from political oppression. And so, the question really comes to each one of us: What is our particular role? Would I, if you were to come to my door in need of safe harbor, would I open my door, given all the concerns that we have in today’s society, and let you in? And if I were to come to your door, would you do the same for me? And the song really is a litany of all of the — not all, of some of the possible people, kinds of people, who could come and knock at your door. Very often I find some people will agree on one or two in the entire list. But it’s very rare that you can get people to agree on more than just one or two in the list.

AMY GOODMAN: Can you talk about how you came to the group?

YSAYE MARIA BARNWELL: I came to the group quite unexpectedly. I was signing and singing in church, the only time that I’ve ever done that. And on that Sunday morning, it happened that Bernice was at that service. I think she hadn’t planned to be there. And when the service was over, she came to me and said, “I’m Bernice Johnson Reagon.” “Yes, I know.” “I’m in Sweet Honey.” “Yes, I know.” And she said, “Well, we’re looking for another member. Would you come to an audition starting tomorrow?” And I thought surely she was talking to somebody else. But I said, “OK, sure.” And I went and for a month auditioned with the group, learned a number of songs, and, during that process, tried to explain to the group why I could not be both an interpreter and a singer in the group. And then I needed to make a decision about which I felt I wanted to do. And I chose to sing and, at that point, invited Shirley to come and be an interpreter for the group. So, I didn’t ever think I would be singing as a way of living.

AMY GOODMAN: Well, Shirley is speaking for herself in a different way right now, Shirley Childress Johnson, who is the signer of the group. But can you talk about Sweet Honey and the relationship with those who can’t hear, who need to have the song conveyed in a different way, and why that is such an integral part of your group?

YSAYE MARIA BARNWELL: Deafness has always been an interest of mine. When I was about 11 years old, I saw The Miracle Worker on Broadway, which is the story of Helen Keller and her teacher, Annie Sullivan. And I went into speech pathology because I wanted to be a miracle worker. Never worked with a deaf child or adult until years later, when I decided that I really wanted to just learn the language and understand the culture. At that same time, when I was 11 or 12, I met a deaf girl. And it was really important to have that experience, because I grew up in a world not only with sound, like many of us, but I came from a musical family. So it was really hard for me to imagine having a playmate or friend who couldn’t hear the music that I was hearing. And —

AMY GOODMAN: Where did you grow up?

YSAYE MARIA BARNWELL: — from that point on — in New York City. So, from that point on, I think it became very important. So, when I got into Sweet Honey and they were looking for someone to interpret music to people who couldn’t hear, that was like a fulfillment of a dream that had started when I was 11 or 12, and one that just has been evolving ever since. We have an ever-growing community now, community of people who come to Sweet Honey concerts because the music is made accessible by Shirley, who is one of the finest interpreters in this country and who is capable really of interpreting not only the words, not only the poetry, but the rhythm, the emotion and the cultural expression of the music, which is very, very important. You know, we’re used to seeing interpreters in a confined space, you know, usually not taking up very much space. Shirley takes up a lot of space, and it’s very rhythmic and very — and we love her.

AMY GOODMAN: Ysaye Maria Barnwell and the Sweet Honey in the Rock civil rights musical group. We’ll be back with them in a minute.

[break]

AMY GOODMAN: “Down in the Valley Two by Two,” our Sweet Honey in the Rock special, here on Democracy Now!'s War and Peace Report. I'm Amy Goodman, as we return to our firehouse studios with the civil rights a cappella group.

AMY GOODMAN: Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon, can you talk about how you educate people? I mean, we’re recording this today in between concerts you’re doing for children. And that is a big part of what you do. Not every group does that. But you weave in history and spirituals, education through music and culture. Can you talk about how you talk about the terror?

BERNICE JOHNSON REAGON: If you are born into a situation, and in order to help you stay alive, your parents teach you, if you are a young Black boy, never to look a white man in the eye, or if you’re walking down a sidewalk and there’s a white person walking toward you, you step to the side, off the sidewalk, there is a process that terror creates where a whole culture is constructed, so that you socialize people to live in twisted, distorted ways.

And in our contemporary sense, we are thinking about terror in terms of a plane that’s turned into a bomb, or somebody who sends something in an envelope through the postal system, and we think of everything else that might be uncomfortable as not that. But I think it’s very important to understand that there is an American history with terrorizing its own citizens that’s held in the legacy of African Americans. And it is palpable, and it continues. Families wonder how they can get their young boys to the age of 35 without being killed? How do you teach a child how to deal with a police who’s operating out of a police culture that says you really can shoot and kill and work it out because the system of justice is not going to give justice to the person you have killed? It is going to actually ask the jury to put themselves in the place of the police when the police was looking at this Black person. So, terror is palpable.

We’re from Washington, D.C., and we had this thing with snipers. And these snipers were not killing what you would call just like — you know, those guns, they get those guns and trrrrr, like the post office thing. You know, you go into post office, you go, prrrrrrrr. They were just like picking off one here, one there, different categories. And soon everybody in that region felt that every time you walked out of your house, there was a gun to your head. And it’s very important to not make terror that thing that those people do to you from way over there. And in terms of this sniper, this was Washington, D.C., but initially there was no voice from the federal government about the paralysis that dropped over that region, because they didn’t have any room for domestic terror, because they were trying to draw our attention to enemies that came from some evil they were constructing from the outside. So terror is not simple in our culture, because in our culture it’s political.

AMY GOODMAN: Terror as slavery, as lynching. Can you talk about Harry T. Moore?

BERNICE JOHNSON REAGON: In 1951 in the state of Florida, the Moores, who were organizers for the NAACP, were killed on Christmas night. They were killed because Harry Moore was a brilliant organizer. He started work in the ’30s and ’40s, and during this period, he had more members of the NAACP in the state of Florida than in all the other Southern states combined. And there were more Black people registered to vote in the state of Florida than all the other Southern states combined, which is why they killed him. But they killed — they set a bomb in this house on Christmas night.

And Langston Hughes wrote a poem in memorial to this killing. And in it, he kept moving the birth of this child, who’s celebrated by Christians to bring love and peace. And for people who follow the Christ, you don’t find situations where the Christ led armies or operated with military power. So, here is this seasonal, sacred holiday honoring a child who comes in love and peace, and these people kill someone who also comes in love and peace. And he wanted to know in whose name did these people come. It could not be really in the name of the date they picked, could it?

SWEET HONEY IN THE ROCK: [singing “Ballad of Harry T. Moore”]

It seems I hear Harry Moore; from the earth his voice still cries:
“No bomb can kill the dreams I hold, for freedom never dies.
Freedom never dies, I say. Freedom never dies.
No bomb can kill the dreams I hold for freedom never dies.”

It happened in Florida, the land of flowers.
It was on a Christmas night.
Men came stealing through the orange groves,
Men of hate carrying dynamite.
It was to a little cottage,
The family in the name of Moore.
At the window hung sprigs of holly,
A fine wreath at the door.
It was on a Christmas evening
And the family prayers were said.
Mother, father, daughter and
Grandmother went to bed.
The father′s name was Harry Moore,
of the NAACP.
He fought for the right for us to live.
Black folk must be free.

It seems I hear Harry Moore; from the earth his voice still cries:
“No bomb can kill the dreams I hold, for freedom never dies.
Freedom never dies, I say. Freedom never dies.
No bomb can kill the dreams I hold for freedom never dies.”

It could not be in Jesus’ name
Beneath the bedroom floor,
On Christmas night the killers hid
the bomb for Harry Moore.
It could not be for the sake of love
They did this awful thing.
But when the bomb exploded and the Moores died,
No hearts were heard to sing.

And certainly no angels cried,
“Peace on earth, good will to men.”
But round the world, an echo hurled
The question, “When, when, when?”

It seems I hear Harry Moore; from the earth his voice still cries:
“No bomb can kill the dreams I hold, for freedom never dies.
Freedom never dies, I say. Freedom never dies.
No bomb can kill the dreams I hold for freedom never dies.”

When will people, in Jesus’ name,
And when will they, by prayer,
Know that each one has the right
To stand up everywhere?
When will people for the sake of peace,
And the sake of democracy,
Know that no bomb you can make
Can stop us from being free?

It seems I hear Harry Moore; from the earth his voice still cries:
“No bomb can kill the dreams I hold, for freedom never dies.”

So if you see our Harry Moore
Walking on a Christmas night,
Don’t you fear and run and hide
He has no dynamite.
For in his heart is only love
For all the human race.
All he wants is for each of us
To have our rightful place.

And this he says, our Harry Moore, as from the grave he cries:
“No bomb can kill the dreams I hold, for freedom never dies!
Freedom never dies, I say!
Freedom never dies!
No bomb can kill the dreams I hold, for freedom never dies.”

AMY GOODMAN: “Ballad of Harry T. Moore,” Sweet Honey in the Rock, here on Democracy Now! It is a tremendous privilege to have you here, and I can’t believe I’m not just hitting a button for the CD, the many CDs and records that you’ve done, but to be able to experience you performing it live and to get to talk to you.

BERNICE JOHNSON REAGON: No, we actually are honored to be here, because we have heard so much of our music on Democracy Now! and just am in awe of the way in which you have struggled to surround the challenges that face our society and that you found something in our music to assist you. So, we absolutely like the company we’re keeping right now.

AMY GOODMAN: Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon, we talked a bit where you came from, but could you tell us a little more? You’re a musician. You’re a cultural historian. At a break, you were talking about this transition in your life now as you’re going to be leaving the group, but you’ve had transitions in the past. I want to lead into “I Remember, I Believe,” a song that lives in me since the first day I heard it, that has to do with mothers and ancestors and today and where we go. But what about where you come from and what you have done at the Smithsonian and your projects, putting it all together, quite simply?

BERNICE JOHNSON REAGON: The best thing is not to think about it too much, you know? I’ve lived a blessed life. And I think mostly I surrendered to what was put before me. I’ve been willing to say yes. There were not — everybody in Albany, Georgia, didn’t go on those demonstrations. I could have not done it. So, I tell people that many times in your life, you will have an opportunity to walk through doors, and those doors will lead you to someplace in yourself that you will never meet unless you walk through those doors. And so, the civil rights movement changed my boundaries.

I come out of really solid grounding. My moral, my sense of integrity comes out of my family and my community, really dug in deep in the Baptist Christian sort of traditional rule church. My tradition, the sound, the way my voice is used, I chose. I was also the contralto soloist. I was also singing, when I was jailed, German lieder and Italian arias. And in jail, they did not work so well. And when I came out of jail, there was something about the way singing said who I was, that I had not discovered in any other singing. And it was then deciding that’s what music would be for me, and that’s the taste I would fall in. That’s what I would keep in my eye.

I decided to continue to go to school, when in Atlanta the Ph.D. guy who was head of curriculum said that I had not written a proposal properly to teach Black traditional songs to teachers so that they could use those songs in their social studies classes. And I had just finished a full year testing it. And I said, “There’s something wrong with the proposal?” He said, “Yeah. This isn’t a proper proposal.” And he’s this doctor, da-da-da-da. I said, “OK.” And I think two weeks later somebody called me and said, “Bernice, there are these grants by Ford for Ph.D.s.” The deadline, I actually had two weeks to get the proposal in. And so, I said, “OK.” So, I just decided nobody else was gonna turn me down because I didn’t know how to write a proposal.

So, like, there are all of these things that have led me to different things. But one of the things I kept really central is, the way I know I’m doing what I’m supposed to do is if I can hear my grandparents in my work. And there’s something about “I Remember, I Believe” that is embracing the fact that you come from someplace, that you are actually the evidence of other people’s struggles, living and dying, that somehow people make choices in their lives sufficiently right so that you’re here. And part of being here is understanding you are more than the little you you think you are. And there’s something about knowing that history that should impact on the decisions you make in your contemporary life. And all of my work has had that thread.

But I think this song, which is based on a sermon by Reverend A. Knighton Stanley, actually expresses the importance of history. And if you know that other people have gone through their challenges in their lives so that you are here, you can maybe believe that you, too, can do the same, and that generations in the future, there will be somebody who actually sits and breathes as evidence of your existence and your efforts.

AMY GOODMAN: “I Remember, I Believe.”

SWEET HONEY IN THE ROCK: [preforming “I Remember, I Believe”]

I don’t know how my mother walked her trouble down
I don’t know how my father stood his ground
I don’t know how my people survived slavery
I do remember, that’s why I believe

I don’t know why the rivers overflow their banks
I don’t know why the snow falls and covers the ground
I don’t know why the hurricane sweeps through the land
Every now and then
Standing in a rainstorm, I believe

I don’t know why the angels woke me up this morning soon
I don’t know why the blood still runs through my veins
I don’t know how I rate to run another day
I am here still running, I believe

My god calls to me in the morning dew
The power of the universe knows my name
Gave me a song to sing and sent me on my way
I raise my voice for justice, I believe

AMY GOODMAN: “I Remember, I Believe,” Sweet Honey in the Rock, here on Democracy Now! Where are the places that you have sung that song around the world?

BERNICE JOHNSON REAGON: We sing it everywhere. We sing it everywhere. It’s been a very important song. I talked earlier about the culture being ahistorical. And this song suggests that in addition to the you you think you’re struggling to be or know, you are also representative. And sometimes I just describe for young people, you know, the mountain of humanity you come from. If you start from two parents and you go to four grandparents, and then, another level, there’s 16, after a while, boy, you just can hardly sit still, there’s so much under you.

And it’s been a very, very important song for us to talk about the importance of history, and not just that — the history test, not just learning the facts or knowing the facts, but actually using your fluency about what your history is to impact on the way you make decisions. And when we look at so many things and so many actions in our society, sometimes I think about the environment, and these people have no connection with the past, and therefore, they really do not feel they are accountable at all for the future. It is only what they can do in this time, even if it’s destroying or damaging the ability to support their own lives. And it’s an important song for us. We sing it a lot.

AMY GOODMAN: What did your grandparents do?

BERNICE JOHNSON REAGON: My grandparents on both sides were farmers in southwest Georgia. And on my father’s side, they were renters, which means they rented the property, which means they decided what crops they would plant. They took the crops to market. My father was taken out of school when he was — after third grade to work in the fields. He was the oldest son.

On my mother’s side, it was my grandmother who was a sharecropper. And they paid — most of the time you pay sharecroppers 50% of what is left after. It’s sort of like making a record. When you make a record, the musician has to pay all the studio costs, all the mastering costs, and all of that comes out of your royalties, which is actually a very little percentage of the income from what they sell the records. Well, with sharecropping, theoretically, on the farmer’s side, you buy the seeds. You pay for the rental of the mule, the plows. Everything comes out of your side. It’s supposed to be a 50% deal. Everything comes out of your side. But if you’re a woman, it is not 50%, it’s one-third. And my mother’s mother would move from one place to the next, when the owner of the land thought she should pull her children out of school to work in the fields. And that’s like two families, and they did different things. And my mother remembers moving three times in one year because of that.

AMY GOODMAN: You talk about your mother, your grandfather, your grandmother, your father. What about your children?

BERNICE JOHNSON REAGON: What about them?

CAROL MAILLARD: The daughters [inaudible].

BERNICE JOHNSON REAGON: They’re adults right now.

AMY GOODMAN: What do you say, Carol?

BERNICE JOHNSON REAGON: They’re adults. My children are adults. So I don’t talk a lot about my children anymore. So, they’re grown. And one is very public. That’s Toshi Reagon. And Sweet Honey is involved in a special project. We produced a show celebrating our 30th year, which is called Evening Song. And Toshi was 9 when we started the group. And she’s a musician. Her music, she’s a rock musician. So you have a show produced that brings together Sweet Honey in the Rock a cappella in collaboration with Toshi Reagon and BIGLovely, a rock band. And that’s been a very exciting thing. So, I talk about her. I have a son Kwan, and he’s a cook. And I don’t talk a lot about him because he’s not public. But I tell people, you want to know about my children, you know, check them out.

AMY GOODMAN: I asked about your children. You sing about children and about humanity and what happens with Black people in this country in your song “Ella’s Song.” Right now, today, it just so happens, in this week, something like 2 million-something dollars were just awarded to the Dorismond family, Patrick Dorismond, who was killed by police not far from here, in midtown Manhattan, when police came up to him as he came out of a lounge and asked him where drugs were. He said he didn’t know and why were they coming up to him, and they shot him. But that’s just one example. We could come up with many examples every day. You sing to children. You talk about children and the plight, overall, of Black women and their children in “Ella’s Song.” Can you talk about when you wrote this?

BERNICE JOHNSON REAGON: It was the mid-'80s. It's written for Ella Baker. And she was an adviser for SNCC, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, during the civil rights movement. And we were young people. And it was very important for me as a young person to be respected by people who were twice my age and older. And she was one of those. She actually thought that young people had a way of looking at contemporary issues that was just very important to listen to and support. And it was not the same way she looked at those issues. And so, in “Ella’s Song,” this whole idea of thinking that the young were the point, the young are going to push the boundaries, but in order to do it, they have to be supported. I don’t remember sitting in meetings where there weren’t some gray-haired people present, who would be, like, every once in a while bowing their heads like we were not out of our minds. And it’s just important. It is important, because the more young people talk in the company of older people, sometimes she would ask a question, and sometimes she would make a sound, but, basically, she supported dialogue about what was happening, what we thought about it, and especially what — “OK, so, you know what the problem is. What are you going to do about it?” It was very, very constructive and very healthy.

And then, when we got put in jail, our older people put up their land to get us out. Now, that’s just major, major, major. And that relationship between — and usually it’s like grandparent. You know, parents have a hard time with children. We just do the best we can. But grandparent, grandparent to especially a teenager, very, very important. And I tell young people, “If you don’t have one, rent one.” It doesn’t have to be a blood thing. And I also tell young people, “Be sure you have more than one mother.” You might have your birth mother. And then just look at about her age, there’s probably somebody else who is about her same age. When you can’t stand to talk to her, you can talk to that other person. Just move around. Just have a little catalogue of mothers and fathers. And, you know, it’ll get you through to another level. And then, all of a sudden, you go back to your birth mother, you say, “Oh, she’s cool.” That doesn’t mean she’s cool. It means you’re grown. You don’t need her right now. You could be her friend. I’m just getting off the subject of Ella Baker, but I’m a storyteller. OK, we’re supposed to do “Ella’s Song” now, right?

SWEET HONEY IN THE ROCK: [preforming “Ella’s Song”]

We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes
We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes

Until the killing of Black men, Black mothers’ sons
Is as important as the killing of white men, white mothers’ sons

And that which touches me most is that I had a chance to work with people
Passing on to others that which was passed on to me

Everybody sing: We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes

To me young people come first, they have the courage where we fail
And if I can but shed some light as they carry us through the gale

And the older I get the better I know that the secret of my going on
Is when the reins are in the hands of the young, who dare to run against the storm

We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes

Not needing to clutch for power, not needing the light just to shine on me
I need to be just one in the number as we stand against tyranny

Struggling myself don’t mean a whole lot, I’ve come to realize
That teaching others to stand up and fight is the only way my struggle survives

We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes

I’m a woman who speaks in a voice and I must be heard
At times I can be quite difficult, I’ll bow to no man’s word

We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes

We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes

AMY GOODMAN: Sweet Honey in the Rock. I want to thank you all very much for being here. I want to thank Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon for today and for all of your years and what you’ve given all of us. I want to thank Ysaye Maria Barnwell, Aisha Kahlil, Carol Maillard, Nitanju Bolade Casel. And thank you very much to Shirley Childress Johnson. For those who are listening on radio, you don’t hear her, but she hasn’t stopped from the beginning of this conversation. She’s signing. And she, together with this quintet, make up Sweet Honey in the Rock. Thanks so much.

BERNICE JOHNSON REAGON: Thank you, Amy Goodman, for your work. Thank you.

AMY GOODMAN: And that does it for our two-part Democracy Now! special with Sweet Honey in the Rock. To get their tour information, go to www.SweetHoney.com. We dedicate today’s program to Sweet Honey’s sign language interpreter Shirley Childress Saxton. We’re pleased to announce, starting today, Democracy Now!'s televised broadcasts are closed-captioned live for the deaf and hard of hearing. Thank you to Democracy Now! listener Molly Howard of the New Mexico School for the Deaf in Santa Fe and Cynthia Karnik and her colleagues at the National Captioning Institute and to Democracy Now!'s Denis Moynihan and Mike Di Filippo for their help in bringing this important expansion of accessibility to Democracy Now! Tell your friends and family who benefit from closed captioning they can tune in to Democracy Now! on Free Speech TV, DISH Network channel 9415 and over 70 public access TV stations around the country. To get more information on those, go to democracynow.org. To get a copy of today’s show, call 1-800-881-2359. Democracy Now! is produced by Kris Abrams, Mike Burke, Angie Karran, Sharif Abdel Kouddous and Ana Nogueira. The special was directed by Uri Gal-Ed and edited by Elizabeth Press. Orlando Richards, Simba Russeau, Gabrielle Weiss, Mark Mallory and Ed Stein were on camera. Rafael de la Uz did lighting. Mike Di Filippo, Jonny Sender, Rich Kim engineered. Thanks to Downtown Community Television. I’m Amy Goodman. Thanks for joining us.