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Excerpts from Email Interviews
Internet technology has made it possible for me to do interviews by email. The inquiring writer asks the questions; I send the answers. They can seldom use the whole interview. But here I have the luxury to elaborate or print the original. |
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| By Big Bri
Holly Near's recent recording, "Edge," makes it clear that she has not rested on her laurels, but continues to write and sing political songs with all the grace, humor and the maturity that comes from doing this work for nearly 3 decades. |
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Q. |
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| In an interview, I was asked to discuss activism. Words like "activist" and "activism" often strike a chord of nervousness or hesitancy with many people. How do people become activists, how do busy people participate, how do we get young people involved etc. The following are some thoughts I have on the subject of activism. Holly. People in power need to control others in order to maintain power. One of the ways to do that is to take that which is threatening and demonize it. So words like "activist", "feminist", "socialist" are intentionally identified as anti-patriotic and only the very brave are willing to call themselves such things. In truth, an activist is one who is actively involved in creating community, whether that is locally in their neighborhood or internationally. It is an admirable quality. I believe people who practice their beliefs in daily life are activists. Again, building community. I don't believe an overworked, underpaid single mom needs to necessarily show up at a meeting to be an activist. If she works at helping her children unlearn the prejudice and violent behavior that children are taught daily, she is an activist in my mind. Think what would happen if people simply did intervention from time to time. What if we made it clear in our daily lives that we don't think it is ok to hit children. If we didn't laugh at racist and sexist and homophobic jokes at parties. In fact, what if we said gently, "Hmm. It is sad that you think that is funny. Is there no love in your life that you need to create humor at someone else's expense?" Now that changes a party! I think the web site is a very useful tool for organizations and for example, gay youth who live isolated have found that they are not alone. My only hope is that people keep coming outside. The community is not in front of a computer. That is how to find community but then one needs to walk out the door and make contact with the real thing. Young people are generally active. It is great when that energy is put towards community. Progressive teacher really try to involve their students in world thinking. They don't get much credit for it. They often don't get support and sometimes they get threatened and fired. One way to help children is to help teachers. Some young people start up pen pal relationships with someone who lives in another country. Some learn a song in a different language and then go sing it at a hospital. Organizations could invite young people to be on their board of directors, teach them to chair a meeting, ask them to design a leaflet or invite them to speak at an event. I am not an activist because I have some particular politic. I am an activist because I prefer people who care to those who don't. The quality of my life is better when I work for change than if I sink in to the despairing world of competition and violence. Life in community is more interesting to me than life in isolation. Sometimes activism is as simple as falling in love. I am interested that young people are really taking on issues of money. These huge events they organize to confront the world economy are spectacular. Mainstream media perpetuates the idea that there is no activism. This is a great tool for the power structure that is in place. Of course there is activism. But I think as a movement grows and swells, the media is forced to present some aspect of it because it is too large to ignore completely. The anti war movement that opposed the war in Indochina went on for a long time before it got headline space. That was true in the anti-apartheid movement too. But eventually, when there are a million people marching, the press has to cover it, even if they report only 500,000 people. There were 80,000 in DC a while back, protesting Bush and war and corporate economy. In an era of "homeland security" and threats against freedom of expression, that is a lot of people to show up at a demonstration in DC. A lot! It didn't make the front page of the NY Times. It barely made The Times at all. That is not an accident. It is intentional. Part of being an activist is remembering to tell each other the truth even if the media wont. That is why community is important. We need to tell each other the news. One person tells one person tells one person. In that way, we do not fall prey to the news as those in power want us to receive it. They want us to think that everyone is out there in support of Bush and the policies he represents. The safer we can make it for every day folks the better. We have seen it before. First one woman tells about rape or incest, she is not believed, she is put in a mental institution, or stoned to death in the plaza. But then another and another and another. And now there is a growing refusal on the part of society at large to convict the victim. The larger the resistance movement, the easier it is for people who are afraid, to stand forward. So, first we organize the brave. We create a space for the timid or for those who if they speak out now, will lose their jobs and in some cases, their lives. It is very hard in the early stages of a movement to trust that in time, the middle of the road will feel safe enough to tell the truth and think clearly. Another important aspect is to support public spokespeople. We need people out there who are articulate. Help build the careers of artists who tell the truth. Invite them to sing. Give support to Amy Goodman and get local public stations to carry her program. I have often said this to my audience, use my concerts and the concerts of other progressive artists you like to bring a new person into community. Music is a good way to open up dialogue. Give progressive music to friends for gifts. Use every gentle opportunity to build the movement for social change. I am amazed at how many people right now are looking for an alternative to the dominate opinion. That is a good sign for humanity. |
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| From an interview for WHATZUP Magazine http://www.whatzup.com/
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Interview for GAY.COM
Q How would you characterize your vision for the future on your latest release, Edge? What direction is your activism taking these days? |
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| Here are excerpts from an interview done in 1990 with The Progressive (free lance writers Susan Watrous and Bob Blanchard) I have cut bits out that were dated or that referred to out print material etc. H Q. The interviewers asked several questions about audience and artist. NEAR: They've let me know the effect of my music, and that has led me to be more willing to acknowledge myself as a teacher and healer. The other side of that is taking responsibility. A lot of artists say, 'I'm not political.' People are afraid of this word 'political,' but perhaps what they really fear is the power of their own music." In art and music, there is a certain delicate line-or choices-that artists have to make. Some artists must spend their time practicing their instrument in order to be the greatest cellist, which doesn't allow as much time to be exposed to the world, to become an extraordinary thinker or an activist. Others may spend all the time on the picket lines and won't have time to hone their craft-their songs may not be as brilliant. But every once in a while a Sweet Honey in the Rock or a Pablo Casals comes along-thoughtful people as well as great musicians. I think it's hard to do everything, but these are the choices artists have to make. It's been really important to me to be a good activist and a good thinker, a good musician, a good singer, and a good entertainer. You can't do it all, but if the truth be known, I have walked those delicate lines as best I know how. Q: As an artist, what is it you hope to touch in people? Why do you do what you do? Near: There is no single way for an artist to approach humanity and the expression of it. I've tried to pay attention to diversity and human experience, to be alert to my own state of amazement and to write about that-sometimes rhetorically and sometimes symbolically. Part of being an artist is being willing to be shocked, being willing to be surprised, being willing to be hurt, by things we've been shocked, surprised, and hurt by for years. To be always in a state of wonder, even about things that are familiar. It's a kind of sensitivity that can sometimes be an extraordinary blessing and sometimes a real pain. When an audience comes to one of my concerts, I hope they'll see themselves, somewhere, in one of the songs, not in a state of Pollyanna purity or perfection, but as a self they like and admire and respect. They might actually learn something and be able to move to a new state of comprehension of them- selves as a result of looking in the mirror that they, in fact, created. That circle of expression is part of what I have tried to teach myself. When change happens as a result of people looking in such a mirror, I am reassured again and again of the power of art and culture. We're living in a state of denial if we ignore the central nature of culture. When I say "culture," it can be as big a picture as the food we eat and the clothes we wear, or songs, dance, films. Music, for example, can be used against us as much as it can be used for us. Muzak can put a whole nation to sleep, whereas a lullaby is intended to put a child to sleep in a sweet way. We have to be careful about how we choose to go to sleep. Q: It sounds as if you're worried that people on the Left may not acknowledge the tremendous power of culture to influence consciousness. Near: I don't know what "the Left" is any more - I'm not sure what I mean when I say those two words. But I hope progressive humanitarians will take culture very seriously. In language, for example, just re=teaching a group of people to say "he and she" was a huge annoyance to people, but it meant something. It rattled a whole way of thinking. And once women are actually not excluded, I don't think any of us will give a damn what pronouns are used. That wasn't the point. The point was that because the pronouns were exclusive, we were also excluded from society - it was an intolerable thing and language mattered. Language is like songs, like food, like dance - it is the expression of what we think. Sometimes we have to undo how we think, clear out the misinformation, and actively put chosen information into those spaces. I don't believe you can do it haphazardly. Q: What are some of the lessons we need to start putting into action? Near: It is essential, for example, that men start being inter- ested in and excited by how women think. To come to a concert and hear a lot of songs from a female perspective should not make men say, "Oh well, that's for women." Similarly, white people have to understand that there are different time lines in different cultures, different ways of perceiving things. Not all thought is linear. Not all thought is based on achievement. In a cross-cultural world, we have to be willing to go and sit quietly - not be the center of attention. We have to be able to listen. We all have something we don't know, and we must be excited by the possibility of stretching that limit. Because of the nature of dominant culture, a huge amount of that rests on the shoulders of white middle and upper-class men. They have a longer journey to go than many people. Q: But they've also had a longer turn at the top than some other people. So maybe it could be seen as the wheel turning. Near: Yes, it is turning. But I don't believe in the punishment theory. I do think they have had immense privilege, but rather than dump their privilege and start pretending they don't have any skills, they need to use the privilege and skill and all that opportunity to take that longer journey. And now. Right now. In certain areas, there's not a lot of time. Time is an issue. If a woman has been in a crowd and heard sexist jokes and very quietly, a man intervenes and says, "I don't think that's funny," there is such wonderful energy. He hasn't drawn attention to himself but he has intervened, he has interrupted it. I can be refueled for hours by something like that. And I have to remember that I can offer that same refueling to people of color by intervening in a racist comment, or when children are being abused. The act of intervention for one another can be so revitalizing. I mean, why would we not want to bring that kind of pleasure to each other? Q: ...you've said the 1970s and 1980s were "an unacknowledged, extraordinary time." Others have commented on the climate of cynicism and apathy. How and why is your perspective different? Near: I'm not allowing my perspective to be dictated by the dominant culture. Some people went to sleep, got apathetic, or became materialistic-part of the "Me Generation." But to me, the 1970s were the time when all of the romantic principles that got unloosed coming out of the 1950s actually had to be put into practice. There weren't lots of big demonstrations; there weren't peo- ple running around with ribbons in their hair. There were working class, hard-core people out there trying to change the school system, to get child care, to stop capital punishment, trying to confront nuclear power plants, to make abortion legal, and trying to address the number of people in the South who maybe had won the right to vote, but still couldn't read. It was the era of the rise of the women's movement, which completely changed attitudes all over the world in ways we'll never be able to count. It was organizing on a grass-roots level. The 1970s changed a lot of attitudes. People began to put the ideas to work, which is the next step after what was experienced as the cultural revolution of the 1960s. Remember, the Vietnam war wasn't even over until 1975, and the covert war began again in Indochina. In the early 1970s, they still had it on the books that being homosexual was a disease or a mental illness. The Stonewall riots took place, and the gay-liberation movement was ignited. Environmental groups expanded. Sol- idarity movements developed. Nicaragua had a revolution. Stu- dents began pressuring universities to divest their funds in South Africa. There was so much of that kind of creative work in those two decades. I mean, what is this idea that it all hap- pened in the 1960s? That kind of nostalgic interpretation of history disempowers the present and confuses one's plans for the future. Qs If one considers that those were also Reagan's years of "mourning in America," the work of those struggling for change becomes that much more courageous. Near: Yes, all of this happened despite that destructive mentality. People stayed in there and worked against it. It didn't look romantic any more, because in that climate it was really hard work. Anyway, I thought the 1970s and 1980s were incredible decades, and they were half my life. I refuse to have somebody come along on television, or some Top-40 radio program, and dismiss half my life as unimportant. I find it astounding. Believing in the significance of this era is a gift to a whole generation, an affirmation of the choices we've made. It's empowering to believe that the time we live in is a good time, even if it's a hard time. If you believe your time is your time, it empowers you. I do believe the powers that be would like us to remain isolated. One of the ways to do that is to accuse the public of apathy, and they say, "Oh, right, I'm apathetic." Or say, "Nothing went on." Right, nothing went on. You just keep feeding hogwash to people, and pretty soon they'll eat it. I think that is what's happened, and I'd like to encourage people with political perspectives not to buy such an insulting meal. If somebody says to us, "What about the apathetic times?" we must ask them who they're hanging out with, who they're talking to. Stop it again and again when it comes up in conversation. Our most immediate history is being wiped out from under us. Go see miners on strike in the Southeast. Go see black people defending themselves against drugs, and against the war on drugs which is a war against their communities. Go see the work done by the gay community to fight AIDS. Go see single mothers trying to raise healthy children with no help from society. Go see members of the progressive church risking their lives to stop the death squads in El Salvador. We who are interested in relative truth have to keep digging for it and not let ourselves be sucked under. Q: It seems that being an artist requires a delicate balance be- tween a state of motion and a sense of strong roots. Your roots reach back to the rural community of Potter Valley in northern California. Was that particular setting significant in giving you a base for your work today? Near: There's no way for me to know whether if I had been born in New York City I would have thought this way as well. But I didn't come from New York City; I grew up in a family that knew it was living on Pomo Indian land-which is different from the experience of many kids. My parents had been involved in the labor movement; if we'd grown up in the city, we would have been red-diaper babies, but out in Potter Valley, there was nobody to red-diaper with. When my parents moved to the country, they realized country people function differently than city people. You can either be an outsider or you start to be a farmer. My parents thought politically but acted personally, because in the countryside that's how you have to act. They were involved in starting a preschool, and working in the PTA to stop corporal punishment. Q: Was there ever a moment-perhaps as a teenager-when you thought, "I'm going to be an artist"? Near: Like, "I think I'll grow up to be Holly Near"? Q: Yes. Was it a conscious decision, or more a process of evolution? Near: Sometimes I forget I'm "her " even now. Was there a moment? There were definite turning points. Even when I was little, I was disturbed by the fact that I was different. I wasn't sophisticated enough to know how I was different, or what I was different from, but I had sneaking suspicions that some of the things going on in my mind weren't going on in other people's minds. That disturbed me. My mom helped me in that, as did my father. They encouraged thought, not "Think like me" but "Think like you. Learn to think. You'll get through life better if you learn how to think." Q: In 1971, when you were invited to join the Free the Army show, it was a major intersection for your career, the point at which your artistic path and your political work joined. What was it like when the two parts finally came together? Near: It completely changed everything in my life. I had been a film and television actress before I was in the FTA show, and I did several TV projects when I returned, but it wasn't fulfilling any more. I didn't really reject that other life from a moralistic point of view. It was just shallow. Of course, all this reads like some huge choice I made. The fact of the matter is that the peace movement needed me and artists are suckers for that. We need immediate affirmation all the time. Q: Did you know what you had to do next, or did it take a bit of trial and error? Near: I'd been raised on Paul Robeson and the Weavers, but unfortunately I never had an opportunity to ask them what kind of contradictions they had to pass through to do their work. I didn't know the process that one had to go through to do political art. Doing Hair in New York, before the Free the Army show, that was actually the beginning of the turning point. When the students were killed at Kent State, the cast voted to do a demonstration from the stage, and I abstained. That's an interesting story because often I've learned what to do next by being, I hate to use the word "wrong," but by making a choice that, moments after I made it, I would decide I'd never make again. It's an interesting way to learn. And if you have the guts to keep making mistakes, your wisdom and intelligence leap forward with huge momentum. Leaping away from my mistakes has propelled me forward-not like disengaging, but rather rising out of them. It has great force behind it. It makes for great storytelling, too, because people love to hear the mistakes you've made. Q: When we talk about artistic evolution and expansion. what are the necessary ingredients? What do you need to continue to grow? Near: Well, the first thing is, I don't believe in nirvana. That helps. Even if nirvana was handed to us on a silver platter, this would be the first day of our struggle to keep it. My creativity and my political work are linked. I don't go out and do this work out of guilt or out of responsibility, though I used to. Now I do it because it makes for the life I want to have. It creates the memories I want to look back on. It creates the substance. It creates the passion with which I make love. It promotes the tones that get into the music. If I didn't think and feel the way I think and feel, I couldn't sing the way I sing. And I like singing the way I sing. You can't just leave out one part; the bread won't rise if the yeast isn't there. I like this life. I like it when it's hard, and I like it better when it's not, but I know you don't get the sweet part without the bitter. We have to go into the hard parts with fascination, knowing that it's going to be like a dancer working out. It's going to hurt, the muscles are going to hurt. If people are willing to go out there and run three, five miles a day and really go through the grueling stuff of keeping in shape, then those of us who believe in emotional and political and mental and intellectual and economic and all those other ways of keeping in shape have to be willing to put in the same amount of sweat. You see dancers enjoying the hurt; we, too, have to figure out how to find pleasure in the stretches. And when we make mistakes say, "I'm blessed that I have an opportunity to learn from this." And when we burn out, when we're tired, we have to rest. Although, of course, there is the issue of necessity, the urgency attached to survival. Q: Does having a long-term perspective help you sustain energy for your work? Near: Yes. If you know where you've come from, it's easier to know where you're going. It's not so lonely. And also to accept that what we really cared about in one moment has to change along with us. Being a troubadour, being an artist, being a political musician is a constant state of motion-I suppose that's where the idea of movements came from. Q: In 1989, you celebrated your fortieth birthday. It seems to be a time for looking at your life as a glass half-full. What's your feeling for the 1990s? What's next for Holly Near? Near: In all fairness, I haven't always seen my life as a glass half-full. I've had real moments of despair-longer than moments, longer than I wish they were. But I feel very positive and happy right now, and in good health. Interestingly enough, I don't know how to answer your question. I don't really have the slightest idea what's next. I think that's why I'm so energetic right now; it's a gestation period, I feel like I'm waiting. I'm interested in the integration of the forms of theater and music and film, and of television, of song writing. Part of keeping this space open is not to try to choose a form yet-to spend more time thinking about content, the next expression of an idea, and let form take care of itself. I think it will find me. It always has. Because I'm a very organized person, it's tempting for me to want to get next year organized, but I think I'm supposed to wait for a while. ~ |
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