Selman: Freedom fighter photo: Zibz Black Current

As a key member of Montreal's Kalmunity Vibe Collective, a highly popular network of jazz, soul and reggae musicians, as well as Nomadic Massive, the international, multilingual hip-hop group, Jason Selman operates in cultural circles shaped by the black diaspora. He also works with the Black Theatre Workshop Youth Works theatre program.

Selman's latest book of poetry, The Freedom I Stole, written in Canada, Cuba and Barbados, shares his reflections on contemporary struggles for freedom and his questions around identity and culture.

Selman recently sat down with Stefan Christoff for Hour's web-based interview series, Cultural Crossroads, to talk about his new book and experiences in Cuba and Barbados.

Hour One section of The Freedom I Stole is set in Cuba where you travelled in recent years as a musician with Montreal hip-hop group Nomadic Massive. What was your experience of Cuba?

Jason Selman Cuba was very, very intense. It was striking because a certain social unity exists in the country that turned my sense of race on its head, a reality that seemed almost utopian. What does it mean to be an Afro-Cuban? How do you feel being an Afro-Cuban? Is there a sense of inequality? How do all these questions play out in Cuba? These were all questions that I had upon arriving in Cuba. So it felt really, really good for me to see the Afro-Cuban sensibility on the ground.

Certain things from our African heritage are preserved within the music [in Cuba]. They have been transplanted and they have been tweaked, they have evolved, but those pieces of our heritage are certainly present. I had a deep sense in Cuba that so many things from our African heritage had persevered, which is also true for all the West Indies but in different ways, and true all across the Caribbean.

There are certainly inequalities for black people in Cuba. This is a fact. I plan to return to Cuba, to go back within the next years, and my goal will be to really come to an understanding and talk to people about what it really means to be black in Cuba. But being a poet and someone who uses words a lot, travelling to Cuba brought me a simple lesson: that sometimes it's important to simply be quiet, to observe and learn. This lesson brought me to a really quiet and still place in Cuba.

Hour How did that quiet place affect your poetry?

Selman The second half of the book the poems were written on trips to Cuba and Barbados. Poems from Cuba represent my feelings at the time - they don't get into the specifics of daily life in Cuba, but are more about the vibe.

Although a major question that these poems address is "Does this system work?" my poems don't aim to place judgment on Communism or Castro.

In Cuba I never had the [impression] people were being oppressed. I had a sense that people were living life to the complete fullest. I never had an intense sense of poverty. Coming back to Montreal made it clear that people in our society are so spoiled. In Canada we have so much and we do so little with what we have, while in Cuba people are living in the exact opposite fashion.

The second half of the book is more a reflective look at life. By the last couple days in Cuba, I was writing all day.

Hour So you saw your time in Cuba and Barbados as creative time?

Selman Sure. So much of my work is a meandering journey. My writing expresses my emotions captured in different places at different times. In Cuba, it was amazing to write.

The last days in Cuba were an emotional time for me: At someone's house, at a rumba, with everyone dancing, playing drums, singing. My sense at the time was that this was as close as I have ever been to Africa. At this moment, I just started writing and writing, I was literally crying while writing the poem as people were dancing around me. It felt authentic and real. Everyone was singing all these songs in Spanish - but it didn't feel like Spanish. It felt like another language. Musically, the songs felt much more timeless, these songs extended back into where we were before we came to Cuba, to the Americas. In Cuba there are melodies that survived the Middle Passage, rhythms that survived slavery. In North America what has survived has taken on so many permutations (although when you look at hip-hop, when you look at jazz or the blues, elements of our distant history are totally there).

Hour Musical expressions from the black diaspora have changed the face of musical expression internationally, and in North America. Can you talk more about the ways your poetry relates to black culture in North America, specifically jazz, and how your reflections on the diaspora inform your work?

Selman The other half of The Freedom I Stole is jazz poems. These are works specific to North America, also to Canada to a degree... an examination of race as represented through music. At the time of writing, my obsession was a constant examination of my own freedom and definitions of being black and being a man. Really these poems are an investigation into these themes. How has jazz music informed my definition of manhood and blackness? How does this translate to my life? These are questions addressed through the poetic work.

Also these poems examine the legacy of jazz music and how it has changed over time. Today, so much of my identity is rooted in inspirations drawn from jazz music, as an aesthetic, musically and visually. Looking back to photos of jazz musicians from the 20th century - back to the 1930s-to-the-1960s - these photos portray people who look so dignified. These were real people, but looking back at photos of the great jazz musicians, they look almost royal. Pictures of Miles Davis, or Louis Armstrong at a young age - you feel vibrancy. I love the look of these old images.

For me, what jazz represents at its heart is the fact that we as black people, as black musicians, have many, many layers and complexities. For me, jazz music is about all these layers, all these complexities playing out. As a musician, I retain all this soul, all this history, all my current abilities.

But I also worked really hard to get to this place. It took a great deal of practice - I don't just fall out of bed in the afternoon and start playing my instrument in the night. Skill or talent doesn't come out of nowhere. Great jazz musicians didn't posses their skill out of nowhere either; great skills were developed over time with extreme diligence. Look at John Coltrane, who was a master, but never ever stopped practising.

Jazz is about that possibility to always improve, to always get better. More than other art forms, or musical expressions, jazz at its heart represents us as complete people - it presents the black mind. Great jazz players were serious intellectuals - if you look at a Charlie Parker, at Thelonious Monk, we are talking about brilliant people.

The reality is that there has been a systematic rewriting of history that has tried to neglect the intelligence of these great people, musicians and intellectuals. Some history characterizes Charlie Parker simply as a junky. However, in reality this man was a diligent genius who put in a great deal of work. Even today there isn't enough respect for the work and time that great jazz musicians put in, sometimes against incredible odds, to become artists of such calibre.

Until today, there is a perception that great black art is simply in our blood, is something that simply comes out of us. No. In reality it's in my blood, but my horn when it's in my hands doesn't just play itself, it's my work that went into mastering it, to breathing life into it. Great music doesn't come from nowhere. Without years of practice no one can learn to truly play.

Hour The Freedom I Stole is your first published work. Can you explain the title?

Selman More or less, the title is about the fact that living in this country, living in this city, living in this world as a black man, you are behind the eight ball from day one. There is a certain access to physiological and spiritual freedom, but you have to take it, no one is going to give it to you. The Freedom I Stole means that I am free in my heart, in my mind, but that freedom is something that I had to fight for.

People are always vying for our work, for our labour and will use you [...], which comes at the expense of our spirits and our minds. You have to get to a point when you take back your mind because they want it from you. Once they have your mind, the government, the education system, they can use you and your body for labour. You have to arrive at a point when you claim control over yourself and take back your mind, body and soul. You have to steal your freedom back. Freedom isn't free, it needs to be stolen.

The Freedom I Stole
Published by Cumulus Press
For more info, www.cumuluspress.com

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