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Groovin’ Griot is a podcast about how we use dance to tell stories. The term “griot” comes from the West African tradition of oral and embodied storytelling. Griots are traveling poets, musicians, genealogists, and historians who preserve and tell stories via a variety of modalities.
On Groovin’ Griot, we are centering the African Diaspora, honoring the legacies of the griot by talking to the storytellers in our communities who help us understand the role of dance in remembering and reimagining the lessons embedded in these stories. We’ll talk roots, rhythm, rituals, recommendations, and much more.
Episodes released bi-weekly. Email us at groovingriot@gmail.com and follow us on Instagram @groovingriot!
Deborah Thomas: I think I came to
recognize that how I encounter the world
is first and primarily through movement.
You know, how I understand
what's going on in a situation,
anywhere, is through movement.
the ways people's bodies are, the ways
people's bodies are engaging or not
engaging with each other, people's
gestures, people's small movements.
OreOluwa: Welcome to Groovin
Griot, a podcast about how
we use dance to tell stories.
I'm OreOluwa Badaki.
Azsaneé: And I'm Azsaneé Truss.
Let's get groovin'
OreOluwa: For this
episode, we spoke with Dr.
Deborah Thomas, the R.
Jean Brownlee Professor of Anthropology
at University of Pennsylvania
and Director of the Center for
Experimental Ethnography, or CEE.
Azsaneé: Dr.
Thomas has worn many hats over her
dynamic career and we started by
asking about how her background as a
professional dancer with Urban Bush
Women, among other companies, inform
the choices and moves she made as
a researcher, professor, community
organizer, and multidisciplinary artist.
Deborah Thomas: I think often one looks
back at the trajectory of career choices
or movement from one space to the next
and it, it looks like it all was planned,
like it makes sense and it's seamless.
But at the time, it was totally just
serendipity or right place, right time.
And, uh, Bush Women was definitely
one of those kinds of, um, things.
When I graduated from college,
I moved to New York to dance.
I had gotten into That two year program at
Alvin Ailey I had auditioned in December,
in between semesters, and they anticipated
that I was going to come in January.
Uh, but obviously, I couldn't, so they
just, said I'd have to reaudition.
But I had also gotten a
fellowship from Brown.
Um, that I was going to defer because
of the Ailey, um, opportunity.
And that was a fellowship
called the Arnold Fellowship.
And you wrote a sort of
independent research project.
And what I had written to
do was to go to Brazil.
And work with, uh, dancers and musicians
and theater artists there, who were
sort of coming out of a renewed
interest in sort of Black arts, right?
And people who were at a time
in New York and in the U.
S.
when multiculturalism was starting
to really become a buzz word, they
seemed to be moving back to an
appreciation of a specific, you know,
Afro-Brazilian identity that was
grounded in the music and the dance
and the ritual practices of Candomblé.
So when I came back from Brazil and
needed a job, I called Bush Women
and they ended up, uh, actually
needing an administrative assistant.
So I started and on my first day,
um, the company at that point toured
about 35 weeks out of the year.
And it happened to be a day when
they were home and Jawole, uh,
Jawole Willa Jo Zollar, who is the
founding artistic director of Urban
Bush Women, Jawole was in the office.
And so I was meeting her and
she was looking at my resume.
And she said, Oh, I didn't
know you were a dancer.
And you know, the conversation
just kind of continued like that.
That day or the next day, somebody
dropped out of the company and they were
leaving the following week on a tour.
And so she had to have
a really quick audition.
So she called me, asked me to
audition, but, um, I was a quick study.
So she hired me and that's how I
ended up, um, joining the company.
And I loved working with Urban Bush Women.
I loved, um, seeing the world, through
the practice of dance, and therefore
linking in all these different places
with other artists and other practitioners
and people who were taking us to their
favorite spots, you know, after the show.
Um, and it was a real, um,
different kind of education.
OreOluwa: I remember when we had this
conversation, Azsaneé , you and I were
both struck by how thoughtfully Dr.
Thomas seemed to follow her
curiosity and her intuition.
Throughout her early career she remained
clear sighted about how she hoped to
use art to collaborate with and support
the communities that matter to her.
Azsaneé: Right, and this delicate
balance was a core aspect of
her work with Urban Bush Women.
Deborah Thomas: And then, um, Jawole
was interested in a more kind of
popular education, uh, practice.
So she brought some people on board with
us to begin a process of thinking about
how we could use dance and music as
tools for other kinds of social change,
consciousness raising, um, conflict
resolution, you know, all of these sort
of popular education tenants and brought
in a bunch of people to train us in
these practices and to train her as well.
And the first, uh, the first, we called
them community engagement projects.
So the first community engagement project
we did was in New Orleans for three months
at the beginning of 1992, and we spent
the two years prior to that back and forth
to New Orleans, working with different
grassroots organizations and community
based groups, thinking with them about
what they wanted to do, if they felt
like a collaboration would be useful.
What kind of collaboration that would be.
And ultimately we developed a kind of
cohort of maybe 10 different organizations
who wanted to work with us and it was
just a really great experience and it got
me thinking about, um, what would that
look like at a higher level of scale.
You know, we were working really
at the grassroots level, which is
so needed and I think so important
and still something that You know,
I know you all are committed to,
and that I've been committed to.
Um, but I was interested in, you
know, how artists change the world.
Azsaneé: As fate would have
it, or maybe the ancestors, Dr.
Thomas found her way to a Ph.
D.
program at NYU, where she got her
bearings as an anthropologist.
OreOluwa: She then found another
opportunity that would lay the foundations
for the work she now does with the
Center for Experimental Ethnography.
Deborah Thomas: I saw an ad for a postdoc,
um, at Wesleyan at the Center for the
Americas, which was just written for me.
It was on cultural production
in the Anglophone Caribbean.
You know, and since I had done my
research on the ways, um, dancers
and other performing artists
in Jamaica were attempting to
transform a national consciousness
or a national cultural identity.
It just seemed like a really good fit.
And, uh, it worked out and that
tracked, tracked me, you know, in
a certain kind of academic way.
Um, and I guess, in a way, the CEE is sort
of a way to go back to that original plan
of having a kind of community arts center.
But this community is university and
beyond, um, but it still is really about
using the arts to create important
conversations that can be world changing.
Azsaneé: CEE is sort of a parent
organization for the Collective for
Advancing Multimodal Research Arts, or
CAMRA, which is where Ore, myself, and
our guest from our last episode, Dr.
Jasmine Blanks Jones, began engaging
in conversations around embodiment,
dance, and African diasporic traditions.
OreOluwa: Dr.
Thomas was also on the
panel we discussed with Dr.
Blanks Jones, last episode,
called What the Body Knows.
And like our last episode, we
wanted to pick up where we left off.
We asked Dr.
Thomas about a question that she
had posed on this panel in 2021.
Um, but the question that you asked that
I thought would be really great to kind
of bring it to this space, you would
ask, does the body know differently?
In other words, do the things
you learn from the body present
themselves in different ways from
the things you learn in other ways?
You had mentioned, you know.
It's a different type of education.
What sort of education is that for you?
Deborah Thomas: It's a
really good question.
OreOluwa: You asked it, it came from you!
Deborah Thomas: Yeah, but I
think it's a question that
many of us struggle with right?
And, um, you know, we talk a lot about
embodied knowledge as if it's something
That we all know the definition of.
Um, and I think we don't.
I mean, it's something I'm actually
exploring now, trying to do some reading,
obviously, of work we already know,
Aimee Cox's work, Jasmine Johnson's
work, uh, Myal Berry's work, like
dancers who have also become, uh,
anthropologists or ethnographers in one
way or another, and are thinking through
the body toward other things, right?
Obviously what I've been doing as well.
I think I came to recognize that
how I encounter the world is first
and primarily through movement.
You know, how I understand
what's going on in a situation
anywhere is through movement.
The ways people's bodies are, the ways
people's bodies are engaging or not
engaging with each other, people's
gestures, people's small movements.
And I think that also comes through then
in the visual work that I do, because
somebody was watching one of the films at
one point and said to me after, You know,
I think because you're a dancer, you're
picking up on gestures that are recurring
because when you edited that film, what
I saw was the recurrence of particular
gestures over and over and over.
I was like, yeah, that's,
I said, that's really cool.
You know, I'm like, yes,
tell me what I'm doing
OreOluwa: more
Deborah Thomas: because I think we
do these things and we don't know.
That it's because at our core,
how we see the world is through
movement or through gesture or
through dance or through whatever.
But you know, then it requires
somebody else to point that out and
to tell us what that means, you know?
So also I'm waiting for people
to tell me what it means.
Azsaneé: Something I found
really interesting in Dr.
Thomas' response, Ore, was how she talked
about the information her body takes in
without ever really thinking about it.
OreOluwa: Right.
We talked a bit about how when you're
learning a new movement or combo,
you sometimes don't have time to
break down all the steps cognitively.
You sort of have to release
the need to know the movement
in order to do the movement.
And although this sometimes happens
subconsciously, it's still a skill
that is learned and cultivated.
Azsaneé: And, at least in African
diasporic dance traditions,
that skill is cultivated in and
with community, something Dr.
Thomas also talked about.
One of her ongoing projects
is the Tambufest, an annual
celebration of a dynamic and vibrant
Jamaican tradition called Kumina.
The event is a collaboration between Dr.
Thomas, Junior "Gabu" Wedderburn,
Nicholas "Rocky" Allen, and the St.
Thomas Kumina Collective.
OreOluwa: There's a great description of
Tambu Fest and kumina on the CE website,
and we'll link to that in the show notes.
But, as a summary "Kumina was developed
by members of the self described
Bongo Nation, who found a unifying
cultural heritage through Kumina, one
that interweaves musical, linguistic,
movement, and spiritual practices
that connect them to the ancestors."
Let's take a quick movement break and
listen to the sounds of Tambuf est.
Audio from Tambufest: I don't know.
Azsaneé: Here's Dr.
Thomas again with more on Tambufest,
Deborah Thomas: right so, you
know, we run this Kumina Festival
every year called Tambufest.
Um.
And by we, I mean
me, Junior "Gabu" Wedderburn,
Deborah Thomas: who has
been longtime collaborator.
In fact, he was the drummer with Bush
Women when I was dancing with them.
So we've been working
together for over 30 years.
And, um, he has always, um,, ,as a
musician, worked toward the kind of, um,
preservation and elaboration of these
dance and drumming forms in Jamaica.
Um, so Junior and me and, um,
Nicholas "Rocky" Allen with the St.
Thomas Kumina Collective.
And, um, I initially saw, my
work with that as support, right?
So I'm going to support Junior and
what he wants to do because he has
supported me and what I want to do.
And he rejected that.
He was like, no, you have to take this
on as fully as I take on your projects.
You know, this is also you.
And, you know, that was very uncomfortable
for me because, um, you know, I'm
not from this particular community,
I'm not Black in the way that they're
Black, you know, I feel self conscious
if I get up in the big public setting
and dance with people because I feel
like I then become the spectacle.
People wonder, Oh, what's that
White girl doing up there?
Or, you know, because
that's what they see, right?
Um, in that context.
Um, You know, but it's been a really
interesting thing to have to sort of
abandon a little bit or just let go of
a kind of hyper attunement to the way my
body is read in this space, which is a
space of, um, producing something, right?
Producing through an artistic practice,
a space for community to come together
and think together and problem solve or
learn together about different kinds of
issues with the speakers that we bring
in to that, um, but to have to kind of
suspend like anthro, I think also the
reading, my first year, I had to suspend
a lot of disbelief, like reading all of
this work by people who were talking about
primitives in Africa and all of this, and
using this language, I was like, what?
You know, it was like, okay, I'm going to
get through this because I know there's
something on the other end, you know.
So now it's like I have to do that the
other way, like I have to suspend the
understanding of how my body is read
in that space and just be, You know, be
as a spirit and as a close friend and
collaborator and as somebody who's known
people in this community for years,
you know, and just let go of that.
OreOluwa: The point Dr.
Thomas makes there about suspending
judgment or disbelief in order to be
present and awake to what is going on
around you, had me thinking about one of
the other points she made during the "What
the Body Knows" panel a couple years ago,
where she talks about dance as a portal.
Deborah Thomas: And I think it was because
dance was really always for me, a portal.
You know, sometimes a portal to the kind
of joy and ecstasy and togetherness and
freedom, certainly that you're talking
about in so far as one experiences that
in different settings, whether it's on
stage with other people really feeling
a piece of choreography going to a
next level, or it's, you know, in a
club or going down the line in Haitian
dance class, or, you know, everything
just clicking, those kinds of things.
And so, you know, as an individual, it
sort of helped me to enter new spaces,
you know, but then later when I was
performing with Urban Bush Women, it
also, then dance also became a kind of
portal toward broader projects of social
and political change, you know, so it
was the, the, the tool that we use to
access these other forms of consciousness
raising or other ways of being together
or ways of reducing tension or anxiety
or conflict within communities are ways
to teach literacy, or, you know, so
embodiment then became this other thing
you know it was still something that.
I loved to do, personally,
but also it then served some
other kind of social purpose.
So that's what I ultimately
ended up studying.
Azsaneé: This concept of dance, or
embodiment, as a portal, factors into Dr.
Thomas scholarship on the
afterlives of imperialism, which
we went on to ask her about.
Deborah Thomas: Yeah, well, I think
there are very obvious ways in
which the afterlives of imperialism
and slavery redound to the body.
Structurally, symbolically,
representationally, the whole movement
to map out a different sensibility
around cultural identity that was not
grounded in colonial stereotypes was
a movement to value, um, the embodied
practices of Afro-Jamaican people, while
still making them, um, consumable, I
suppose, by, uh, national, audience.
Nevertheless, to value the African
heritage that had been denigrated, um,
during the period of colonial rule.
Denigrated and outlawed, right?
So at the same time, of course,
people never stopped practicing the
things they practice or never stopped
elaborating the beliefs that they had.
So there's this tension always in that
afterlife, I think, um, that Uh, sort
of bursts into the open from time to
time, but, um, is sort of that tension
between the, um, taken for granted,
African underpinnings of Jamaican
Anglophone Caribbean society, which
people like Sylvia Winter and Kamau
Brathwaite felt was the actual basis for
the creativity of Caribbean populations.
Not this kind of creolization
or this hybridization or this
kind of acculturation toward
whiteness or Europeanness, right?
OreOluwa: Building on this
conversation about Kumina, Dr.
Thomas also spoke about the relationship
between spirituality and African
diasporic movement practices.
She explains how dance can unbound the
body and allow the dancer to integrate the
spiritual into their embodied experiences.
Deborah Thomas: Have been thinking
about ontologies of the body and,
uh, how African ontologies, and I'm
using the continental designation
there on purpose, um, tend to
envision the body as, open, right?
Unbounded.
The body is a space,
uh, also for ancestors.
So it makes it temporally unbounded.
Past, present, future can all
coalesce within the body in what
in Jamaica we call Myal, right?
A possession, ancestral
possession, or in other spaces.
a possession by spirit or God or
deity or in Candomblé it would
have been whoever mounts you, you
know, in Haitian Vodou as well.
But that the body is open to that,
which is different from a European
conceptualization of the body, which
is separated, obviously, from the
mind and subordinate to the mind.
So Roberto Strongman writes in
this book, he recently published
called Transcorporeality, I think.
He writes that the real tragedy of the
Atlantic slave trade, while, of course,
it is also the inauguration of plantation
based agriculture, um, grounded in,
um, enslavement, Um, discriminatory
racial practices, et cetera, et cetera.
Um, he says the real tragedy of it was
that it forced, or attempted to force,
a closure onto bodies that had always
been open by shutting down the ability
to maintain these traditions, right,
and to maintain these ritual practices.
And I find that super fertile, you
know, as a way to think about, you
know, Well, on some level, how the
body knows, how the body communicates,
how the body transmits, what it knows.
And so I've been thinking about that
with respect to Kumina, that, you
know, in Myal, the body is unbounded
temporarily and also materially, you know.
You hear all these stories about
what people do when they're in
Myal, or you see them do it.
You know, things that cannot be done
in like ordinary relations of time
and space and cause and effect, like
no way are you swallowing fire and
not burning your mouth, you know,
or no way are you walking on glass
and not cutting your feet, you know,
these things that people actually do.
So in a way, in Myal, then, in that
space of unbounded, The unbounding is
temporal and it's also material, right?
The bodies can do things they can't do
within the sort of normative structures
of modern time and space, right?
And so that's, I think, what
I've been thinking about.
That in a way with the festival, you
know, it's a public ritual practice.
It's a public performance of, of all
the different things, you know, not
just Kumina, but also other drumming
collectives and other traditions like
Jonkonnu and Dinki Mini and Bruckins
and all of the kind of quote folk forms.
That's often what they're called
in educational settings in Jamaica.
Um, like I think what we're trying to do
is create an unbonded space, you know,
to, to create that opening where for
the moment and then we won't know the
effect afterwards, but in the moment
of opening people can be exposed, you
know, to these traditions with them.
To diminish the stigma that's still
sometimes associated with these
traditions, um, and also talk about
something that's going on, you know,
that's important and to, to think
together, to problem solve together
outside of the legislative boundaries
of state institutions, outside of
politics, you know, and so I think
that's what we're, that's the intention,
right, to unbound, you know, the
body for that moment in that space.
OreOluwa: Azsaneé, I remember you
talking about how your training
in ballet has influenced how you
see different movement styles.
Azsaneé: Yeah.
I mean, ballet is obviously from Europe,
and it's wrapped up in notions of European
spirituality, where heaven is above us,
um, and it prioritizes being lifted and
almost floating while you're doing these
really, really demanding movements.
You're attaining this sort of God-like
perfection through discipline.
But with African diasporic movement,
there's more of a focus on being grounded.
There's something spiritually valuable
and being connected with the earth.
OreOluwa: Hmm.
And we talked about the importance
of not only relegating discipline and
rigor to those more European forms
of movement, because these African
diasporic movement practices and
systems are also organized and they
demand skill prowess and dedication.
This isn't something you just wake up.
one day and do because
you think it's cool.
Azsaneé: Absolutely.
Dr.
Thomas gives us an example.
Deborah Thomas: If you think
about like in the case of
Kumina, right, you're born in it.
You know, you're born in
a family that does it.
So, you know, you attend and you
learn, you know, as a kid, you're
sitting on the outside of the circle.
You learn, you watch, you see the
bodies, you internalize the rhythms.
If it is seen, however, it is seen
that you have an aptitude, then you
will be apprenticed to a drummer, to
a dancer, and then you will begin the
long process of learning, you know,
the way that we apprentice in graduate
school and begin the long process
of learning how to read, how to do
research, all of that kind of thing.
But, but of course, it is a discipline
that takes many, many years.
Azsaneé: We closed out the
interview with one of the
questions we ask all of our guests.
What are you grooving to these days?
OreOluwa: And Dr.
Thomas mentioned that her children
influence her thinking and learning
as well as what she's grooving to.
Deborah Thomas: In a way, it's
also what I'm listening to, right?
Marley has playlists, Oliver
has playlists, so in the
car, it's all their music.
So that's, we went to the Daniel
Caesar concert two weeks ago.
Cause Marley, that's, you know,
her favorite, one of her favorites.
Um, which was super fun.
Uh, reading, I just finished,
uh, Sophia Sinclair's How to Say
Babylon, which is devastating.
And I'm really interested in talking
with people in Jamaica about it and how
especially Rastafari are responding.
Um, I also listened to Mary Louise
Kelly's book, It Goes So Fast, which is
about her son's last year in high school,
which is what I'm about to experience.
Um, so just really interesting,
clearly about You know, being a
working mother and all the tradeoffs,
all the decisions, all the times you
weren't there, how that has worked out.
Um, and also, you know, how life
changes for women in middle age and,
um, There were many times reading that
book that I was like, laugh crying out
loud, you know, in my house, walking
down the street, you know, in the car.
I'm sure people thought I was crazy,
like literally laugh crying, you know.
Azsaneé: This episode of Groovin'
Griot was a production of the
Digital Futures Institute at Teachers
College, Columbia University.
It was produced and edited
by me, Azsaneé Truss.
And my cohost, Ore Baddaki.
Our theme music is Unrest by ELPHNT
and can be found on Directory.
Audio.
OreOluwa: You can email
us at groovingriot@gmail.
com.
That's g-r-o-o-v-i-n-g-r-i-o-t at gmail.
com.
And you can continue to listen
to episodes of Groovin' Griot
wherever podcasts are found.
Thanks for groovin' with us.