It's not easy to see past the clouded lens of the media - untamed aggression filtering through the funny bones of our loved ones - the loss of Sen. Sanders' collectivism, and the umbrella of ignorance Trump has unfolded over our heads. I think I can openly state that artists here in the Twin Cities think it’s time we start embracing the rain.

Since Prince passed away back in late April, Minneapolis & St. Paul have been fueling tides of remorse and community. When I first heard the news I immediately drew to my brief memory of providing tickets for Prince and his guest for a local Iranian Opera a few years ago; a deepened perspective of an international icon, shaping the true maintenance of curiosity; a means of seeing life openly and through, no matter the environment. Although the interaction was paper thin temporally, I have carried it with me since.

Perhaps the passing of Prince was just another unwritten testimony towards freedom. A rose symbolic of a narrative that is “to be determined”. One thing is definite, his memorial(s) created a multi-cultural environment so vast and full of love we were raining purple beyond commercial. Prince renditions rang over thousands with the help of local artists, films, and dance parties that went until sunrise. Experiences like these remind us to fill these vacant lots of hope within ourselves; that even lost forms of expression will always outlive the systematic barriers. With the subjective rhythms of rubble buckets on our city streets and voiced reason in a language undocumented, we became one.

Is it possible to interconnect the weight of artistic lineage with the unrested rallies of Black Lives Matter?

Democracy hides in the cries of spoken word, the underground collaborations of Folk and R&B, or the trials of local HipHop. We have Native American dances inspiring protesters, public speakers for Black Lives Matter defining bravery with voices that rang louder than any presidential candidate I’ve heard this election. Artists like Toki Wright help us navigate through threads of lost freedoms while over a dozen local musicians including Dem Atlas, Lydia Liza, Eric Mayson, PaviElle, and many more perform at the Cedar Cultural Center to help support the family of Philando Castile. You may remember some of these artists on the front line at First Ave performing tributes for Prince the day of his passing. Again, the creative cycle continues to revive our faith in one another.

We are living at the height of a dismantled system. Media chooses to suffocate us with intoxicating violence and anger. We are constantly being strained of love and understanding as we sit silently, consuming realities we refuse to engage. I, like Prince, choose to channel my mode of “curiosity” and experience the world as a student. There is no shame in recognizing that you have much to learn. The beauty in looking at life with a creative lens is that you’re constantly projecting dialogue, opening discussion, and building community.

The arts community here in the Twin Cities has opened up a door for us. A door that’s invisible to the deceptive nature of our media. This door does not discredit those on the outside or those within. This is why the media will never take its’ direction. Art will always remain free of patriarchal disillusionment if we so choose to support it.

Ask questions. Channel creativity. Listen to those that are grieving. It is instrumental that we start thinking collectively. It is time that we let go of our pride as allies and allow vulnerability the opportunity to start painting the bigger picture.

Perhaps the Arts and Black Lives Matter advocates are building a force of reckoning.