I Choose To Do Something
A New Song and a Plan of Action
Last week, I reposted a WPR issue from 2023 about my perspective on the immigrant experience in America. It is an existence in which blending in and being lowkey and practically invisible is a primary ingredient to survival.
The truth is that I know from my experience as an immigrant what it means to stand down.
To acquiesce as my default behavior.
To always be agreeable.
To let people assume that they know more than I do.
To always think two or three steps ahead of what anyone else is doing to keep myself safe.
While these skills served me well in many instances, I am now learning how to stand up.
To vocalize my needs and the concerns of others more often.
To assert and expose my physical presence as a form of protest and solidarity.
To use my platform to advocate for the hidden and silent voices everywhere.
To redirect my privilege as a resource for others.
Last November, when the results of the U.S. presidential election were announced, I knew that things were going to change. Now, just over 100 days into this new administration, bold moves have been made to degrade our rights and civil liberties. The onslaught of presidential mandates and the ensuing press coverage have felt debilitating and overwhelming.
I have had time to step back and think about all of this, and I am ready to be more active.
Of course, the U.S. is venturing into dangerous territory. People with no convictions or criminal records of any kind have been sent to a maximum security prison/concentration camp in El Salvador. Immigrants have been detained at detention centers/prisons indefinitely.
I have a beautiful life in a home in the woods of Tennessee, a loving husband, a family lead by strong, stubborn women who I adore, a sweet little garden, talented musicians I get to collaborate with, friends (queer and otherwise) who give me life, fulfilling creative community work, and two cats who love on me like crazy each day.
I have every reason to go about my safe, delightful little life as if nothing is wrong.
But the truth is that I have these freedoms and joys simply because people before me were willing to take a stand and make an extra effort.
Does this mean I will become a rogue international warrior spy fighting violent zionists, fascist dictators, oil and gas barons, the prison industry, and homophobic/transphobic/racist politicians?
Um, no.
I am still figuring out what I want to do, but for now, on a regular basis, this is what I have in mind.
Posting resources and information on social media, even though it appears that my Instagram account has been shadow-banned. I only get a tiny fraction of the “likes” I used to get. This will require a bit of creativity to get around that sneaky algorithm.
Attending protests whenever possible.
Donating money and volunteering for organizations/causes that promote social and climate justice.
Creating music and making art that address the challenges we face.
On that last polka-dot point, earlier this week, I was on a Zoom call with a fellow pianist/singer/songwriter, and we challenged each other to write a song related to climate change. On our June 1 deadline, we will present each other with the song we wrote.
So far, I have a first draft of the lyrics and a musical arrangement. I am happy with the piano progression I have composed (my bandmates will hopefully be happy with it too), but the lyrics are a work-in-progress.
My song is about the town of Waverly, TN, that is 60 miles west of Nashville (and 132 miles west of where I live). On August 21, 2021, a catastrophic flood of biblical proportions hit Waverly, with as much as 20 inches of rain in a 24-hour period. Nineteen people were killed, and the town was left in ruins. Footage of the event shows a massive river of water submerging everything.
Here is a national news report from that storm:
My neck of the woods and my home are no stranger to damaging floods in recent years, and if that storm had pivoted ever so slightly in its trajectory toward Middle Tennessee, it easily could have come my way.
For all of you dear readers, here is the first draft of the lyrics of the song I am working on. I decided to explore the experience of a person being rescued from that flood. This will likely change a good bit by the June deadline, but it’s a start.
Waverly Music and Lyrics by Roqué Marcelo Verse 1: She woke up to a warm August day. To birdsongs and breakfast for a day at the park Smiled goodbye as she walked away But the warnings came quickly as the day grew dark Chorus: So much rain came to her town Homes pummeled and memories strewn all around So much rain came to her town Hearts running to safety to find higher ground Verse 2: She stands in water so high An empty shoe floats like the shell of a ghost Through tears she looks to the sky She calls out for a loved one who she needs most Chorus: So much rain came to her town Homes pummeled and memories strewn all around So much rain came to her town Hearts running to safety to find higher ground Bridge: And higher she rose The rescuer's grasp clung fast to her clothes And higher she rose Flown above drowning treetops from the town she called home Home Her home Outro: And higher she rose Waverly washed away And higher she rose Waverly washed away And higher she rose Waverly washed away
The feedback I have gotten so far is that maybe these lyrics veer more into sentimentality instead of something that hits a little harder. What I have so far is what came to me on my first impulse. The song serves as a gateway to briefly talk about climate change while I am on stage. I do not usually write songs that are hyper-specific and, much like the lyrics above, I generally prefer a bit of ambiguity to give space for the listener to grapple in their own way.
But maybe I need to go punk and throw all conventions out of the window?
In any case, this song is an example of my personal commitment to speak out and advocate. (I already have a song about the migrant crisis in Central America and another one about Palestine.)
I do this because I need to do something.
I cannot stand down and be complicit.
My piano and I will stand firm.
And I plan to do more.