A year and a half ago, when I was finalizing the list of colleges to which I would apply, I was especially concerned with how many students each college had. I wanted to ensure I would attend a school large enough that the student body was diverse (and the school had ample resources), but not so large that I would find it difficult to find a community I could claim as my own. Come April 2015, Harvard College was among the largest schools I was considering, but, at about 6600 students, it was small enough not be daunting.
After I had arrived at Harvard as a student and had been here for almost four weeks, I found the one community that, above all others, I would call home. I first came across the Kuumba Singers of Harvard College during VISITAS at a concert for the pre-froshes. What drew to them was who they were, what they did, and how they did it. Kuumba is a predominantly black choir whose mission is to celebrate black creativity and spirituality in all of its forms. (Most, but not all of Kuumba’s members are Harvard undergraduates; many of the members are not Harvard students of any kind.) At the event for visiting freshmen, they did this through songs of the black experience and struggle, and through the power and beauty in their voices. From the moment I first encountered Kuumba, I knew I wanted to be a part of it.
The first rehearsal I attended was Kuumba’s second of the fall semester, and was like any other Kuumba rehearsal. That meant taking a moment at the beginning of rehearsal to reflect, primarily on why we were in that space; doing vocal warm-ups, some of which were more laugh-inducing than others (try singing "I am a cow"); learning songs we would perform in the future, including at the Christmas concert; and ending rehearsal by sharing our praises and prayer requests (more on this later). Perhaps I would’ve stayed if only for the choir’s mission; but what makes Kuumba a home is the kind of people it attracts. The Kuumunity (a Kuumba tradition is to combine “Kuumba” with other words whenever it makes sense) is one of, if not the most supportive I have found at college or anywhere else—so much so that it already feels like a family, despite the fact that I’ve been in the choir for less than seven months. From when my first rehearsal to my first Kuumunity Dinner, I have always felt welcome in Kuumba.
I might be inadvertently implying that Kuumba is a perfect community through what I’ve thus far written. Kuumba is far from perfect, and it will never be perfect so long as its members are imperfect. But making the choir and each other better is something to which all Kuumba’s members are committed. “Kuumba” means “to create” in Swahili, and the choir interprets that as doing what we can with what we have to leave a space better than we found it. And so we offer our ideas, talents and gifts, and time and commitment to help make Kuumba a safe space for black people all over the Boston area. That extends to all Kuumba’s members, board members, Harvard College students, or otherwise: every member is responsible for ensuring anyone who visits or joins us feels welcome, included, and accepted.
During our tour, for instance, we discussed the complications in how we end rehearsal. The idea is to be able to celebrate successes and share our worries with each other; but phrasing it as "praises and prayer requests" invokes an inherently religious connotation, as does the fact that rehearsals are often closed with a prayer. Kuumba is not a gospel choir, nor has it ever claimed to be; yet because much of black spirituality in America is rooted in Christianity, it can often feel that way. An article of its own can be written on inclusivity, so suffice it to say that Kuumba constantly works to ensure people of all traditions feel comfortable.
As the spring semester winds down and I look forward to the spring concert on April 23rd and the open mic soon after that, I can’t help but reflect on how my Harvard experience would have been different if I had waited to join Kuumba until later, as I had intended at the beginning of the school year. This I know: Kuumba is where I have found my family. Kuumba is where I have found some of my closest friends and role models. Kuumba is one of the only spaces where I would feel comfortable breaking down and crying—because I know those around me either share my feelings or sympathize with me. Kuumba has become essential to my identity and existence as a Harvard student. I was fortunate in that it took me only a month to find my home at college. I hope those who haven’t yet find theirs.
