Amen, Chenjerai
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What is the perfect setting for recording a live episode of Sound School? Well, I'll tell you. One place for sure is the seventh floor of the Wythe Hotel in Brooklyn during the annual On Air Fest conference in February. The space was stunning. Floor to ceiling windows, a perfect view of Manhattan, and a room chock full of radio and podcast nerds. In fact, it was standing room only, and there was a line of people in the hallway hoping to make it in.

Now, truth be told, I purposefully asked Chenjerai Kumanyika to join me on stage to record a live sound school because I knew he would attract a large audience. Given the success of his recent podcast, Empire City, the untold origin story of the New York Police Department. In the podcast, Chenjerai traces the history of the NYPD with its roots in slavery all the way up to present day questions about police accountability.

But there's a whole other reason why I asked Chen Jirai to join me on stage as a guest. I just knew he was going to deliver the goods. And he did. He was so passionate, so animated, so clear-eyed about podcasting and the police. He just electrified the room. I had to say amen when we wrapped up. No other word would do. Let's go to the stage.

Welcome to Radio Church, everybody. Look at this space. Stunning. Absolutely stunning. I'm Rob. I'm the host of Sound School. We're recording this today so it can be part of the podcast, so feel free to whoop it up. You know how at the beginning of a presentation on stage where there's two people like me and Chenjerai and the me will say, I am so excited to be able to talk to Chenjerai Kumunika today. Yeah.

I actually mean it. I am so freaking excited to talk to Chenjerai today. Because Chenjerai has this question that he thinks we all should wrestle with, that he's wrestled with too. I think it's an essential question. It's one we don't often think about. And now that you're wondering what that question is, I want to introduce Chenjerai and then I'll tell you a little bit about what the question is. Chenjerai, you may know because he was the host or the co-host of Uncivil with Jack Hitt.

Right? Awesome podcast about the Civil War, or as you guys put it, we ransacked the official version of the Civil War. Love that line. It earned a Peabody. You may have also heard Chen Jirai on Scene on Radio with John Bewin, specifically the Seeing White series. Right.

which is a series exploring the history of white supremacy, which was also nominated for a Peabody. And then, of course, most recently, and kind of the reason we're here today, Empire City, a look at the origins and the history of the New York Police Department. I hear fingers snapping. That's great. It hasn't had a chance to win a Peabody yet. But you were just nominated for three Ambie Awards, Best History Podcast, Best Reporting, and Podcast of the Year. What? How?

How much did that cost? More than you think. No, just saying. You're also an assistant professor at NYU's journalism department, and you teach audio reporting there. And so for that vital question, you and I were talking, and you quoted Vivian Gornick, who's like a master of writing memoirs and such. And she asks, who is the you that is telling this particular story? Yeah, that's right. I remember...

I was reading that book because I was just trying to get up. One of the things I realized when I first got into the podcasting game, before I took the Transom Workshop, I was a professor. Professors have permission to write really poorly.

And what I learned very quickly when I started hanging around podcasters is that we don't, right? And so I was trying to catch up. And so I was reading that work and that book, The Story and the Situation. And when she asked that question, like, who is the you? It's just like I just had to close the book and just sit there for a long time and just think about that question. And I think about it on every story I make.

We're going to explore that question and why you think it's important and how you've answered it over the years. And I want to do that by playing a little radio game with you. Oh, okay. I didn't tell you about this at dinner last night. You're welcome. That's a rock. Got to have some surprises. Yes, yes. So I'm going to play a clip, and then afterwards you're going to answer the question, who is the you or who was the you since it's past tense, but who is the you that was telling that particular story? Ready for the first clip? I'm ready. Okay.

I've seen true genius. Too often allude the meaningless. Appreciation of this mediocre nation. I've heard the modest repetition of empty words without tradition. Turn original verbs into submission. I've smelled blissful ignorance addiction, but I guess I wouldn't be right. If I said a blunt was like a baby pipe, there ain't gonna be no revolution tonight. Half my world is as high as a kite. Lost and they lost, all they fight. And I've tasted the

That's from a band called The Spooks, or just Spooks. Things I've Seen is the song, came out in 2000. You were an MC in Spooks, so go ahead. Isn't every black male between the ages of zero and, no, I'm just kidding. Who is the you? Right. Well, yeah, I mean, I'm a hip-hop artist, so...

And, you know, what's funny about this, right, and I got to stretch out a little bit and just say, you know, you kind of messed it up because I wanted to give you credit for being my first podcast teacher. We're coming to that. You know what I mean? I really wanted to do that. But the truth is, is that in a way, hip hop was my first podcast teacher. It's particularly about my voice. You know, I was a hip hop fan from the time I was probably, you know, fifth, fourth or fifth grade.

And that was where I really heard people that sounded like me, you know, speaking out to the world. You know, I remember, and I mean, it was like, and learning to fall in love with language in really precise ways, learning how to create imagery, learning how to ask questions, right? I mean, sorry to give like, sort of like boomer bars here, but like,

Like, you know, just picture me, right, at like sixth grade, and I turn on the tape, and it's like I start to think, and then I sink into the paper like I was ink. When I'm rapping, I'm trapped in between the lines. I escape when I finish the line. And, like, that's the thing that was going in my head all the time, over and over again, them type of lines, you know what I'm saying? And so it was like...

Hip-hop really did, and it was also a place where when you perform hip-hop, you have to learn how to work your voice. You realize that the way your raps might look on paper is not how they sound in the schoolyard when you're surrounded by people, you know what I'm saying, who want you to lose and want to laugh at you. You know what I'm saying? So you got to practice it. And in a way, I think hip-hop shares one other thing I'll say with podcasting is that

One of the things, if all those people who are involved in this medium understand that we put so much work, life-sacrificing work, into making things sound effortless. And we fool people. And rappers are the best at that. That's why people are obsessed. They think everything's a freestyle. A lot of this stuff ain't freestyles, man. Rappers know. We be up at night working to get to those bars and then try to make it look easy. Like you're just thinking of it.

And in a way, podcasters do a version of the same thing. So that really, all those things about my voice started in that hip hop. And that was our group, The Spooks. And we were successful. I mean, we got, just to say, not to, you know, but we did get gold albums. And we got a gold album in the UK, gold single in France and Belgium. You know, so for some people are like, Belgium is only 5,000 to go gold. And I'm like, still, come on, man. Let a brother live. Yeah.

Is that part still with you? You still carry that? Oh, yeah, yeah. Even into your work today?

Absolutely. I mean, you know, yeah. And I got like, you know, it's funny, like I got to shout out my man, Todd Craig, and some of my some of my friends that I let hear some of my work. I remember I'll even I remember even when I was I think I remember writing my column, one of my applications to a job. Right. And it was like I think it was my first job as a professor. And I sent it to my man, Todd. Todd's from Queens. You know what I mean? And he sounds like he is related to a member of Mobb Deep.

And he sounds like Mobb Deep. But he's a, he's a, he's just like, not even but, and he's a crazy writer. And Todd was like, I sent him my essay, and he was like, son, the way you starting it off is not really grabbing anybody, man. And I was like, and I was like, no, brother, the thing you talking about, see, this is academia. I said, I want to put the other stuff later. And he said, son, they not going to make it that far. And I was like,

So, yeah, even in that space. You are so funny. Okay, here comes another clip. We're going to fast forward to 2014. This is when you and I met on Catalina Island for a transom workshop. You were just like, I need to do the podcasting thing. I need to learn how to do this. And so you came to the workshop to try to start figuring that out. And you did what everybody else had to do at the workshop. We gave you an assignment. You had to do a profile, you know, several minutes long, four, five, six minutes, I can't remember, of a person.

And ideally, you'd follow them around while they're doing their thing. And that's right. The active tape with the narration and the quote like we made you work. Yeah, I know you're still recovering. I bet. Here's a clip from the piece that you made a freaking decade ago. John Towski can't shake the moment he lost a 50 pound white sea bass. Well, of course, you know, the ones that got away.

Stay with you for a long time. It was before sunrise and he was alone. You don't have any help. You don't have an extra guy to put the gaff in the fish. You've got to kind of do it all yourself, which is the ultimate challenge. And then the moment every fisherman waits for. Yeah, I had a nice fish, a nice white sea bass. And it may have been one of the biggest sea bass that I'd ever seen, well over 50 pounds. And in the process...

He got a good head shake, broke off, looked back at me, said, "Sorry about that, buddy," and off he went. For John, losing a fish is no small thing because John is a fisherman with a capital F. Whoo!

So you and I went to go track that piece. We sat down next to each other. That's right. Turned on the recorder. We'll set up the mic. Turn on the recorder. And you started reading. And then you stopped. Do you remember what you said to me-ish? You know, I don't remember exactly, but I know I was having trouble sounding like myself. Okay.

Because, you know, in addition to a hip hop fan, you know, I was a fan of public radio. You know what I mean? And I love the storytelling on public radio. And so I had lots of radio voices that sounded like me in my head on like sports shows and music shows, rappers. But when it came to public radio, the voices were different.

I was thinking about Ira. I don't think, I like Terry Gross. Whatever was on public radio, which mostly was not black people. So I was trying to sound, it wasn't really conscious. I don't think I thought of it until I started to articulate. I was like, this voice that was coming out of me was my sort of implicit imitation or orientation toward that.

And so in that moment, you realized if I'm going to keep moving towards making radio stories and podcasts and that sort of thing, I got to figure out me.

What was one of the first things you nodded your head, by the way, for the people who are listening in the episode later? Oh, yeah. Yes. Sorry. Yes, I did. That's okay. Do you remember what you first started to do? This is like therapy. You know what I mean? I'm very internal right now. I got to come out. All right. Yeah. Do you recall what you first did? Like, what was the first thing you tried to do to figure out who's Chenjerai in front of a microphone? Well, one thing that I had to do was I had to look at...

how my voice shows up in other contexts where I was more of the me I wanted to be and where I was showing up more powerfully, you know? And I think that, you know, see, this is why this is a real conversation because I have some things I want to say, but you got me going in a different direction, which I love. Awesome. You know, what I realize is that all of us have, I think...

moments where our voices are powerful, but it's amazing how certain contexts make you become small or not use your voice in the most powerful way. You know what I mean? I mean, I think that applies to everybody. I mean, I know some people who seem like their voice is always powerful, every room they go into, but even those people probably have rooms where they don't feel quite as confident.

And so I had to kind of access that and I think that that's one of the context things I've learned to do over the course of time is pay attention to when my voice shows up in a powerful way. Pay attention to when people are paying attention to my voice. What am I doing? And really pay attention to what the instrument is doing at that moment. And then try to

it somehow, although you have a script in front of you, which is really important and it's a really important part of the voice, extremely important, the words on the page for me, like a big part of my voice is literally the words on the page, but to try to somehow feel like that powerful self when I'm saying it. And I would say, you know, a lot of times that winds up altering the writing. So for example, you know,

If I mean, I don't I don't know to say I don't I don't want to act like, you know, it has to be hip hop change has to be the podcast. I think I can stretch out a little more than that. But same time, like hip hop change would have been like, nah, son, capital left. That ain't getting it. Fishermen with a capital. You got to rewrite that. You know what I mean? And so it's like no matter how I would have said that line because it was corny. You know what I mean? You know, I had to rewrite that. So, yeah, that was one thing. What do you mean by powerful? Can you define that more?

You said, I want to pay attention to when I, I'm paraphrasing, I guess, even though you just said it, I should have it memorized, but I don't. You said when I, when people are paying attention to what I'm saying and also maybe something about how you're feeling in that moment. Right. When is landing? You know, I mean, one, one component, I'm glad you said that because I wanted to talk about power. Yeah.

One component of it has to do with how your voice lands. I just think about, big shout out to the homie Catherine Burns, you know what I'm saying? It was in the room, I don't know if she's still here, but the incredible long-time artistic director of The Moth. Catherine, you know,

One of the first lessons she said is when you're looking for stories, think about the stories that you might tell to your family. She's talking about those moments where you know you told a story, everybody's laughing, everybody's resonating. So there's one component of what lands, right? And definitely being a hip-hop artist, you have to figure that out, right? You have to figure it out in the studio, you have to figure it out on stage, you really have to work with your instrument in that regard. But I think there's another element of power that I want to, if I can digress for just a brief second here,

which is that one thing I realized when I started doing this more, which was during what might be called the Black Lives Matter decade, whatever you want to call it, there was a lot of talk about voices and power. But what I realized is that a lot of times institutions wanted to deploy people's voices to diffuse power.

As if the fact of a voice. They're like, well, you're black, so let's put your voice there. But it wasn't really related to the content of what the voice was doing. It wasn't related to anything structural about the context in which voices are showing up. So voices were tricky because we do want voices. But at the same time, we need some other things. And I was just seeing how, you know, the part of DEI that really the left was pushing back on was that part.

So what I realized is that another part of power is your voice has to be doing particular things. It has to be saying certain kind of things to really be powerful. And that became absolutely crucial to my voice because I think that it's, well, I don't want to jump the gun here, but I do think that

One thing I realized is when, because of the way I first showed up to the mic in a public way, in radio, people expect my voice to say certain things, right? I gotta be, you know, that I have kind of a certain kind of permission to maybe say some things that are more militant, you know what I'm saying? Say some things that get, you know, get more at the core of things. And that if my voice isn't doing that, and you know, I've even had in coaching sessions when we're dealing with the script, you know, I've had my folks tell me like, change, right?

This isn't, where's Chinjat? You saying this line, I feel like you want to say something more direct. And I got to say, by the way, this is not how it looks on paper, but I have multiracial teams with people like my incredible colleagues, Diane Hodson and Peter Bresnan and Sam Riddell and Nigery Eaton. But you have a whole, it's nothing like having a white person say, bro, I don't think you sound militant enough. You know what I mean? Yeah.

Are we critiquing white supremacy or not, James? Let's do it. And I'm like, oh, I'm sorry. White woman, yes, you're right. But that has been, that kind of collaboration has been part of my voice. Oh, my God.

That's a perfect segue into where we're headed next. Oh my God, that's so funny. Is he funny or what? So I want to hone in on why you think this question is, I feel like we're getting close. We're sort of circling into why you think this question is important. Who is the you that is telling this particular story? So let's go to Empire City, which the whole series opens with you watching a black and white video from 1964. It's the first time you've seen the video and it's footage of your dad.

He's 31 at the time. And even though he's now dead, the video brings him back to life for you as you're watching him. And you say in so many words, it's wonderful to see your dad again. Right. But at the same time, you're pissed and you're pissed off because what you're watching was filmed by the New York Police Department's counterintelligence unit. Right.

Your dad was a civil rights organizer and he protested against police violence. And a police commissioner at the time labeled your dad and others as violent and racial extremists. Even though your dad was protesting nonviolently in the video. And we pick up the opening from there. The NYPD says its mission is to enhance the quality of life in New York City by working in partnership with the community. But that's exactly what my dad was doing.

He dedicated his life to improving the lives of the most vulnerable people in New York. He protested racial discrimination in hiring, worked to desegregate schools, and fought police brutality. In other words, he was doing the right thing. And for that, they called him an enemy and arrested him. Who were they protecting when they did that? Definitely not him, the community you work for, me, or even you.

The second half of the NYPD's stated mission? To enforce the law. To preserve peace. To protect people. To maintain order. But I keep trying to understand, when maintaining order, was the police keeping us safe? Because to me, and a lot of other New Yorkers, that mission doesn't sound anything like our experience with the NYPD. We usually see the police show up after the harm has happened. And then they treat everybody that looks like me like a criminal. And it's not just that.

Back in the day, when women and black folks were marching in the streets for the right to vote, it was the police who took them to jail. And when steelworkers went on strike in Chicago, it was the police that shot them. When powerful people want to deny rights, they use the police to do it, to maintain order. The way the police deal with the inconvenient people, the dangerous people who are fighting to make America a real democracy, that's the story that's been hidden in plain sight. I wish I could tell you that my dad's story was an exception.

But once you know where to look, you start to see stories like this everywhere. At a time when we're debating where policing is going, we're going to tell you where the police came from. We're going to go back and uncover the untold origin story of the largest and most infamous police department in the world, the NYPD. From Wondery and Crooked Media, I'm Chinjerai Kumaneka, and this is Empire City, Episode 1, They Keep People Safe.

I get hype every time I hear the theme. Shout out to Axel Cocutier. You know what I'm saying? Our sound designer. First time Axel came with that, I was like, oh, we got a showdown. You know? It's real. But it's not just Axel. It's you as well, right? So what are you hearing there that says to you, oh, yeah, that's Chenjerai. That's the me who's telling the story. Well, one thing is,

I'm finally telling a story about the police to the public instead of my wife at 3 a.m. She's very thankful for everybody else's ears. But, you know, thinking about this question of who is the you, you know, one of the reasons why I think it's important to do that is all of us are like so multifaceted.

Right? And when you're getting ready to write, whether you're writing a memoir, but hopefully you're doing radio, you've got to choose. I think in sound and radio, you've really got to choose. You can't bring your entire life to the mic.

But at the same time, we know that part of the power of our medium is that we are able to bring the personal in and have the stakes. That's literally the power. So it's a problem. You gotta bring yourself, but what part of yourself? You gotta choose. And so what I hear when I hear that, even in the story about my father, was

The way that my team wrapped around me, you know, again, Diane Hodson is to me one of the best people in the game. She's a behind the scenes person, but make sure you meet her and connect with her. But Diane and the whole team was really good at saying, you know, I have permission to just say too much and navel gaze and lay out a whole bunch of stuff. And then they kind of said, we figured out together, these are the parts of you. This is the you that needs to show up to tell this story.

It's not just a you that's talking about police. It's going to be a you that's a father. It's going to be you that had a mother and a father who were involved in the struggle. It's going to be a you who has experienced himself physically being surveilled by the police. I mean, we had a scene that didn't make it where for a brief period I was a security guard for the University of Pennsylvania. That's another story.

And it's a part of, and it's Chinjarai who is a professor who studies sort of empire, critical studies of empire, right? And is an organizer. Like all those parts of me

are relevant to this story. And so that was, that's, I hear us like having kind of figured out that and presenting that person in that initial episode. So I want to get out of like a radio microscope and, and see if we can go to that moment that you're talking about where you've got your team around you. What were they saying to you? How were they parsing that part of you out? Well, I think one element of it is I'm, you know, I,

Everybody's different. Some people, I think, start more with big ideas and some people tend to start more with internal focused stuff. I'm a big idea guy. You know what I'm saying? I'm a scholar. I had read, and not just me, our team read all kinds of dense books about policing. That's one of the things, unfortunately, when you work with me, I'm about to put you through, it's going to be a little bit of a study. You know what I mean? So we like reading a whole bunch of books about police history and critical theory and power and

So, you know, sometimes when we would get into the episode, you know, I mean, like, Sam Riddell produced by that, by the way. So Sam would be like, she would come with like a basic question. She would be like, I want to think about how to connect, you know, Mariam Kaba to David Ruggles, who was a 19th century, you know, abolitionist, one of the first, you know, full-time activists, black activists in New York. And I would just be like,

"Oh, this reminds me of something by Amilcar Cabral." I would go into a whole theoretical thing. And a lot of times it was them just asking me really basic questions like, "How did it feel when you were watching NYPD footage of your dad?" And I would answer. And then they would ask me those really grounded questions.

And then they would just give me some permission and then the stuff that was landing, they would be like, that's really powerful. And a lot of times it was. You just have to write it out. Right. I mean, it was like I wrote. I mean, I mean, and again, this is, I think, par for the course. But many, many times, you know, you know, even like, you know, some of the folks to work with us at Wondry, Nigeri, Mandy, Phyllis, they would be like, yo,

write out that whole experience you just told me. That's a powerful story. I need to see it in paper so I can look at it. And then I would write out like two pages and they would highlight like three sentences and be like, that's the you that needs to be present for this story. Yeah. How did that feel going through that process? You know, I was mostly grateful. I mean, there were times there was a few moments, you know, it's interesting, like

This is a very personal show, so I talk about moments with my daughter which were really difficult and which I really had to check in with my wife like, yeah, we getting ready there. I don't know if y'all heard it, but you'll see. We put some stuff way out there about our personal lives. But, you know, the time, I mean, what you're saying is making me think about mental health component of it because you are, I am digging deep. I mean, the feedback I hear from the show, and this was by design, and, you know, is that

People say, you know, I love all the information about the police, but I really love how you wove it in with your personal experiences. And, you know, that took some mental component to it. But it hit me, I think, when we were working on episode six. You know, episode six, we explore a court case, which I don't want to give too much away, but I'll say involves like just murder.

you know, thousands of cases of police harm back in, and this is something that's happening in 1894. And I remember looking at that, a book, like it was a book in the historical society, right? And like, it was this thick and it was just all these accounts of harm. And I was like, yo,

Nobody knows this. These people live through this. This stuff mattered if you lived through it. And so when I was thinking about my own experiences, it was like connecting it to that really hit me. You know what I mean? And I remember when I was trying to right nail the end of the episode, which you know is hard to nail the end of episodes, I was thinking about my times and what it felt like to be violated by cops, what it felt like when I've seen other people who feel helpless.

And then thinking about like these people are like, you know, Jewish, Polish, Russian Jews. Right. Like there's not a lot of black people even in that particular archive by that time. Right. But hundreds of thousands of people who were raped, beaten X, Y, Z by the NYPD. And the story is not part of the official story. And I called Diane and I was like, yo, I said, I'm writing this thing, Diane. I said, but I got to tell you, I get pissed because people every time we bring up these details, people are so numb. It's like they don't even care anymore.

And I was like leaving a voice message and I was crying and you know Diane just saved it. You know Diane was like, Diane was like, "No, I feel you, Ginger. I fucked up. You're gonna be at the session in a minute, edit in a minute?" I was like, "Alright." And then like I was at the edit, she had the whole thing transcribed. You know what I mean? In a, not in a crass way.

You know, but like it was that kind of process. So I say mostly it didn't. Mostly I was just mostly I was thankful that people were willing to say, tell me what landed and that I had a team that was honest enough. And I think I just want to say that, you know, the voice, one of the myths about the voice is that the voice is often presented as a signifier for a kind of spontaneous authenticity, something that's not crafted.

People are just, use your voice. And the idea is your voice is just something you roll off the dome that is also individualistic. And I hope one thing that comes out is that I think our voices are in relation to other people. That's the other thing. So it has to do particular kinds of things to be powerful. And they're a product of our community. In critical theory, they say people don't speak. Traditions speak people.

They speak us out, right? Like we are tradition speaking. We are relations of people who sacrifice for us speaking. And I'm thinking about my team. I'm thinking about my family. And all those things are your voice too. So, you know, a lot of it is about showing up in a way to honor all those things. And I think in podcasts, when you get to be the host, one of the things that is, you know, an art but can also be a violence is that so many people sacrifice so to...

I could speak on the mic and then I get the credit. Just love to all the editors and everybody out there. People who get laid off by these companies who profit off this shit so that people can tell me, Chin, you're a good storyteller. Anyway, I just wanted to say that. You all right? Yeah. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I was drinking. Shout out to Signal Hill.

All right. I feel like one of the things you keep describing, I just want to hone in on it one more time. It almost sounds like what you're saying is that when you're sitting down to write and when you're sitting in front of the microphone to finally talk, there's a particular feeling that you're after.

There's something inside of you that you're on the hunt for that when it locks into place, you're like, that's it. There it is. I've done it. And it starts with the writing. Is that fair? Maybe it even starts before that with the research and the interviews and that sort of thing. Where does it start? I mean, I think when it locks in, it usually for me is the writing or sometimes it can be the delivery. But I think one of the real challenges of editing is that...

You got to get that feeling right when you say it. Like there was versions and we hit that open so many times like of the show. And it's like you would nail it. And I'll be like, yeah, that was it. I know that was it. And then you play it to people and they're like, some people like, really? You know, they're like, yeah. You know, so then you got to go back and you realize, oh, you detach from it a little bit and you really hear what. And that's that's the hardest moment. Right. In the process of them say I'm saying like.

When I'm not hearing this and you really tune in and say I see what you're saying it could if we do more of this so it was like a feel it having that feeling a lot and let being able to detach from it and then Reconnect to it and then try to have it again You know over and over again until you get something that really I think it's like I have to feel and there's some things that like a few other people Sometimes there's a there's a few things that people weren't necessarily feeling but that I was like, I'm sorry But this is what I'm saying. So, you know, I mean we just want to go that way. Ah, I

No more. Yeah. Yeah. There's a point at which it's like, I'm sorry, this is, you know, we're going to do this this way. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I want to talk about the writing for a little bit. We just have a few minutes left. Yeah. And I have another clip I want to play and I want to focus on the language because there were moments when you were narrating and I wondered, oh, is language important?

one of the important ways for you to figure out how to get Chenjerai to be Chenjerai in front of the microphone. So you told a story in the series from the mid-1800s, before the Civil War. There was a group of police officers in New York nicknamed the Kidnapping Club, and they'd arrest black people, sometimes for no reason at all, other than they were black. And under the guise of following the law of the land, the Fugitive Slave Act,

The officers would bring people they'd arrested in front of an official of the city named Richard Riker. And in many cases, with no evidence that these people were actually fugitive slaves, Riker would order them sent to the South, hence the kidnapping club. There was also a community group called the Committee of Vigilance, and they did what they could to stop the kidnapping from happening, like the day when William Dixon was arrested. Dixon's wife learns that her husband has been arrested.

She runs to David Ruggles and the Committee of Vigilance for support. The clock is ticking. Tobias Boudinot is going to take Dixon to stand before Richard Riker as soon as he can. And the Black community knows exactly what Riker's predisposition is. Black New Yorkers have been through this before, but this time they catch a break. They have a full week until Dixon is scheduled to appear in court.

This gives the community time to strategize. They gather witnesses who can vouch for Dixon, and the day of the trial, they roll up deep to Richard Riker's courthouse. Once they get there, the usual playbook starts to unfold. Boudinot and his people provide evidence to Dixon's property that he belongs to someone in Baltimore. And that's when things pop off.

A huge crowd of black folks bum rushes the front of the courthouse. Riker is completely bewildered about what's going on. And they manage to wrest control over William Dixon, you know, from the authorities and take him out of the courthouse and into the streets of New York. And then this whole melee erupts. Someone tosses a knife and a dagger to William Dixon. And after a struggle, he gets away.

A judge in a courtroom nearby rushes out to see what's causing the commotion. Before he knows it, someone behind him grabs him by the neck. He's sort of manhandled by a black woman, you know, who kicks him in the rear end. Yeah. Exactly. That's the moment in which the audience cheers. The woman's name is Keziah Manning, and records show that she and a man named Jesse hold the judge down while black folks beat him to a pulp.

Cliffhanger. Yes. So, language. Language.

Roll up deep, pop off, bum rushes. Even when you say yeah to the guy you're talking to. I feel like I'm hearing you there. I guess I'll just say it. I wouldn't have written it that way because I don't write like that. And so I'm wondering what you do at this stage, kind of backing up from the microphone to the writing part to make sure, what do you do as a writer to make sure that the you who is telling this story is showing up in the right way so that when you get to the mic...

Right. Well, big shout out to Sam Riddell, who was the was the producer of that episode. And so some of it, I would argue, you know, because we had, you know, people in the room who speak like that and who speak the language I needed this to be spoken in. You know what I mean? Yeah.

The reach wasn't as far as it might have been on some other things, you know what I'm saying? Because a lot of that stuff is already, everybody's adding it to the script.

But yeah, I always take a last minute and really just try to say the script and practice it. And again, it's almost like Ginger Eye, the hip-hop artist up at night. I've already written my verses, but I'm practicing so I can deliver them in the schoolyard. It's like I've got to make it land. And also just understanding. In that moment for me, that was like a Fanonian moment. I want the audience to take pleasure in these cops getting physically beaten up

as black people are trying to get free. Because if you can't accept that kind of violence on a piece of black people trying to get free in that context where they're literally trying, somebody's gonna be sent to slavery, you gotta think about why that's not acceptable to you. What did you want them to do? So this is one of the many things Fanon asked us to grapple with. If your sort of idea about civility goes so far that you would ask a black person to be sent into slavery rather than hit a cop with a brush in the head,

Right? So I want people to feel that. You know what I'm saying? And it's like, how do you deliver that? That requires a certain kind of language, which ain't quite NPR language. We have like two minutes left. Yeah.

So there's people here in the room, people who are listening to the sound school podcast, and they're probably wondering, Hmm, what can I do tomorrow to make sure I show up as me as much as I can in front of a microphone? You work with students at NYU. Like what's the advice? What's the thing you want people to leave with thinking, okay, this is what I can do tomorrow. That's practical. One thing is, um,

Take stock of the experiences you have that you can draw on to tell a particular story. You might want to make a list of those experiences. Pay attention to and ask, start to become really intentional about noticing when your voice is most powerful, when you're with your family, if it's with your, if it's in your, a particular moment in your job, if it's a, if there are particular pieces of art that you've made that really landed, scrutinize it, slow down. We spend more time scrutinizing other people's art, you know, um,

Give yourself build in time and some of this might be actually like a labor issue. Build in time to revise your scripts and your work so that you can prepare that and ultimately explore the full range of what your voice has permission to do.

You know, you have a particular thing that you bring. Your voice is a particular kind of instrument that's not genderized. You know, nobody in this room has anybody else's instrument. That's the beauty of it, right? Not to get corny, but that is the real, that's a fact. You know what I mean? Nobody's instrument is the same. That means your instrument can play music nobody else's can play. So practice and put yourself in environments to stretch it out. But I would say those are some of the main things. Amen.

That was powerful. Thank you. Thank you, man. Thank you. My deep radio thanks to Chenjerai Kumanyika. I'm sending you a hug, my friend. And the audience, too. Man, so good. You were soaking up Chenjerai's every word, and I'm grateful.

I also want to thank On Air Fest for inviting me to tape a live episode of Sound School, much obliged to you, and also hats off to the crew on location. Chioki Ionson for your very generous introduction and hosting, and for making everything run smoothly and sound good, I want to thank Melissa Carter, Dimitri Grekov, and Matt Hunsinger. My thanks also to Sophie Crane, the executive director at Transom, for her infinite support of Sound School.

plus Jay Allison, Genevieve Sponsler, and Jennifer Jarrett. This is Sound School with the backstory to great audio storytelling. It's from PRX and Transom. I'm Rob Rosenthal in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, the radio center of the universe.