(Part 2, Because Apparently I Wasn’t Done)
Who knew I had more to say on this? Honestly, I thought I’d wrapped it up in a neat little bow. But as I finished rehearsal this evening for my upcoming Juneteenth performance, it hit me: the way this piece has twisted, grown, and changed is the whole point. The performance has evolved, my relationship to it has evolved, and that evolution is a story in itself.
High John de Conquer
So, let’s talk about the man, the myth, the legend: High John de Conquer.
A couple of weeks ago, I announced the performance, a multisensory take on the High John de Conquer folktale. But I did that thing where I got so excited about the “what” that I completely forgot to explain the “why.” Why this story? Why now? And what on earth does it have to do with the Labor Pains Project?Let’s correct that mistake.
Song & Story
The performance I’m staging this week didn’t just appear fully formed. It started as a simple vocal recital of spirituals I was developing with my coach back in 2017.
I’m just not a “stand there and sing” kind of artist. The songs needed a story, a narrative to live in. So, I gave them one I found in a Zora Neale Hurston essay. That version grew into an abridged performance paired with a storytelling workshop. Then it went online during the pandemic, because what even was performance at that point? Now, it has become a full, multisensory experience—a mini-performance with an immersion table exhibit—all in celebration of Juneteenth.
Across Time and Space
The story itself has been on a similar journey. The great Zora Neale Hurston wrote her essay on High John in 1943, offering the power and joy of his story as a balm for a nation deep in the anxieties of World War II. She knew that resilience is fueled by joy, and that folklore is where we store the recipes for survival.
I see my work as being in direct conversation with hers. I’m taking that same story and breathing new life into it with jazz, blues, and neo-soul arrangements of spirituals. My goal is the same as hers, just in a different time: to offer a potent dose of joy and a reminder of our own strength in an era of profound civil unrest. By adding an introduction to give context for modern audiences, I’m hoping to connect a new generation to this legacy of laughing to keep from crying—and then laughing some more, just for the hell of it.This brings me to the “why.” My own artistic mission has shape-shifted, too.
At first, I just wanted to share the story. I wanted more people to know High John. Then, my vision expanded; I wanted to use the tale as a tool to help people unearth and tell their own stories, to build a family practice of sharing histories.
Now, my purpose feels both simpler and more urgent: I want to use this story as a source of radical joy and inspiration to keep fighting the good fight. My activism these days is empowerment. While my heart and prayers are with those in the streets, my work is to tend to the garden of our collective spirit.This is the very soul of the Labor Pains Project.
The thread that connects a modernized folktale to a community-based history project is this belief in collective healing—not as a policy, but as an act of radical love. It’s the belief that sharing our stories of survival, healing, and overcoming are revolutionary acts. This adaptation of a High John de Conquer folktale is a historical blueprint for turning pain into power. The Labor Pains Project is a contemporary manifestation. It’s where we do that work right now, creating a space for the stories of Black women in Albany, NY, and right here in Oakland, CA.
Both projects are about mining the past to fuel our present. Both are about finding joy not as a distraction from the struggle, but as an essential part of it. Art, like healing, isn’t a destination. It’s a continuous, messy, and beautiful process of becoming. And I’m grateful to be in the thick of it.
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