Photo Courtesy of Fire In Little Africa
Written by: Oliver Heffron
On May 31st-June 1st 1921 in Tulsa, Oklahoma, thousands of white residents deputized and supported by local law enforcement burned and pillaged the Greenwood District, the prosperous Black neighborhood nicknamed “Black Wall Street” for its self-sustaining economy and culture within Jim Crow segregation, murdering hundreds of its residents and victimizing countless more in an attempt to destroy the center of Black wealth and culture.
Since the massacre, the event has been suppressed from both local and national histories, inflicting a second rhetorical violence for the survivors and descendants of the tragedy whose stories were forcefully untold. People hoping to downplay Greenwood’s memory even tried to change the names “Black Wall Street” to “Little Africa” in our memory to downplay the district’s abundance and symbolically separate the incident from American identity. 100 years later, a conglomerate of more than 60 Oklahoma artists in partnership with the Bob Dylan Center and Woody Guthrie Center have released a collaboration concept album, Fire in Little Africa, a 21-track hip-hop that commemorates the Tulsa Race Massacre’s centennial by imagining the unseen violence of 1921, contemplating its subsequent effects on the community left behind, and ultimately celebrating the strength and unity of Greenwood’s descendants for persevering and reclaiming their community through love and expression.
Photos Courtesy of Fire In Little Africa
Spearheaded by Tulsa-rapper Steph Simon and producer Dr. View, the album was recorded over five days at the Greenwood Cultural Center as well as the Skyline Mansion, the ladder is featured on the album’s cover. The Skyline Mansion, now owned by ex-NFL player and Tulsa native Felix Jones, was the former home of Tulsa-founder and KKK member Tate Brady who played a major role in the massacre. The same place where KKK meetings were held a century ago is where dozens of local rappers, musicians, producers, poets created hundreds of songs both recounting the region’s painful racist past and proclaiming its promising future as the world turns its attention towards the descendants of Black Wall Street and their demands for reparations. As Steph Simon raps on “Shining,” “Crazy, I’m off in Tate Brady Kitchen / Writin’ up a million-dollar mission / ‘Bout to turn this whole house into a business.” Fire in Little Africa manifests the struggle of Greenwood’s descendants to reclaim the memory of the massacre and their identity within the city, the centennial marking both an opportunity to reflect on their suppressed history and proclaim a contemporary pride in the region’s resilience and strength. From the track fittingly titled “Descendants,” a near thesis for the project appears in the opening verse which memorializes Peg Leg Taylor, a World War One veteran and Greenwood resident in 1921 who valiantly fought off a mob by himself for 6 hours with a rifle: “Twenty-one to twenty-one but no further / With the spirit of Peg Leg Taylor, we resist / Our spirit persists, and we take up the defense of our community / Of our humanity.”
The album’s opener “Elevator” presents the project as a dream which transports the modern audience back into the fateful space which Dick Rowland and Sarah Page shared in 1921, reimagining the couple as a forbidden romance unexpectedly revealed to the public in a moment that wakes the narrator up from a fever dream, creating a powerful allegory between the inability to remember the forgotten violence of the massacre to the experience of waking from a nightmare. The narrative continues as the album focalizes Dick Rowland’s experience in the days leading to the massacre, creating a full-bodied emotional and personal narrative surrounding the few facts given through a suppressed history. “Shining” imagines the 19-year old Rowland at his job shoe shining and transforms his occupation into a polishing Simon and Dialtone’s hometown pride. Standout track “City of Dreams” continues this contemplation of Dick Rowland’s conscious and heartbreak over a cool instrumental manifesting the cigar-haze of a 20s Jazz bar as St. Dominick raps: “I had a dream / It was May 29th / I was chillin’ back with Sarah / Everything was still alright / Now they burned my city down / And they did it outta spite / We ain’t go without a fight.” The track “Party Plane” exemplifies how the project reclaims the massacre’s memory through artistic transformation. The track takes a central image of the Tulsa Race Race Massacre, the multiple aircrafts used to bomb buildings and shoot residents in Greenwood in what is arguably the first aerial assault on US soil, and transforms the image to imagine Fire in Little Africa as an artistic and cultural ascent over hate and suppression, a triumphant celebration of Greenwood’s descendants over a diving Charlie Wilson melody. While Fire In Little Africa presents its concept clearly, the album’s musicality transcends its content from simply a historical re-telling into a complex artistic dedication and reclamation of Greenwood’s legacy, threading its memory into the beautiful fabric of Tulsa’s contemporary musical and poetic talent which overflows with each track.
The track “P.O.D.” confront the limitations of the contemporary activist’s movements and even the Fire in Little Africa project itself as black issues become more mainstream within culture without concrete changes to society in a moment of stunning realism: “I need some reparations / Fuck yo’ apologizin’ / Murals ain’t symbolizin’ what you minimizin’ / Now that we enterprisin’ / They wanna join forces ‘cause the city risin’ / Praise for the foundation, built on the backs of the rappers / They wanna make us an Ark / To carry us farther and faster / But I feel enlightened to tell you / We ain’t gon’ be ownin’ these masters.” Tracks like “Reparations,” “Raw Cocaine,” and “Watchu On'' exude this abrasive demand for justice over certifiably banging trap instrumentals with blends of jazz instruments, manifesting the progression of the project’s narrative sonically as the conglomerate turns their vision towards future triumphs and reclamations. The album concludes with a turn towards celebration with “Brunch at the Brady'' and “Young & Free” as the tracks tie 1921 and 2021 together through the communal pride and rebirth of “Black Wall Street’s” memory in the triumph of Fire in Little Africa’s accomplishments today. The album’s music makes it a standout project by itself. Its masterful use of narratives, imagery, and cultural memory to reclaim a regional identity makes the project unique from anything else in recent history.
Here’s the list of artists who created this project: Steph Simon, Dialtone, St. Domonick, Sneak the Poet, Dr. View, Ayilla, Jerica Wortham, Hakeem Eli’Juwon, Verse, Thomas Who?, Parris Chariz, M.C., Surron the 7th, Ausha LaCole, Ray June, Tony Foster Jr., Written Quincey, Sterling Matthews, Chris the God, MC Cain, Keeng Cut, Jarry Manna, Doc Free, Jacobi Ryan, Young DV, K.O., Creo, iamDES, Yung Qwan, Shyheim, Earl Hazard, Lawrence Leon, Omaley B, Tizzi, Krisheena Suarez, Tea Rush, Medisin, Jacc Spade, 2peece, Papa, “Jimmi” Joe Bruner, WoRm, Xanvas, Malitmotives, Sentro, NOLO, Am’re Ford, the Vampire Youth, Damion Shade, Keezy Kuts, Bambi, Playya 1000, Lester Shaw, the GRAE, Jay Mizz, Foolie Foolie, Savvy Kray, Jabee, Deezy, SoufWessDes, Seriously K5ive, Original Flow, Ali Shaw, Beetyman, Sid Carter, Deeksta, 4wop, and Bezel 365. To check out more about Fire in Little Africa and its companion podcast and documentary go to their website here, and to learn more about the Tulsa Race Massacre visit here.