I fell in love with Bluegrass and the mandolin when I first saw the Punch Brothers on Telluride park stage several years ago. My jaw hit the ground and I stared, stuck in wonder. For the first time, my body couldn’t move to dance! I must say, I did feel outta place as the only brown face in a sea of white but that is not what kept me from shaking a tail featha! Chris Thile and them white boys were doin a thing and my mind was blown! Bluegrass had taken over my soul.

Shout out to my brethren Chris White for introducing me to Bluegrass and to Telluride Bluegrass festival. Chris, an amazing musician himself, also happens to be the one who turned me on to The Carolina Chocolate Drops years ago which literally altered my state of being and my trajectory on the planet– if ya know ya know.

Every time I prep for festie season I gather together my favorite coats, onesies, sunnies, and hats. Fill my car with twinkle lights, fur chairs, and favorite guitars just like anyone else longing for the good times only the sunshine of a hot summer day and crisp magical music filled nights are sure to bring.

But the part of my prepping that’s unlike most festival goers I know is the mental prep to be alone in a sea.

The awareness and planning is real when I know I will be one of few if not the only person who looks like me. For some reason, at least here on the west coast, Black people don’t come out as often for Folk music festivals– I mean unless the likes of Allison Russell, Miko Marks, or someone is on the bill, then we get an influx of Black folk lovers for the one day.

But let’s be real. It’s not like Black people don’t make folk music or listen to folk music. Black string bands and traditional Black folk music has been around since the beginning. Daniel Laemouahuma Jatta is a Jola scholar and musician from Mandinary, Gambia, you need to know about. He’s pioneering the research and documentation of the akonting, a direct ancestor of the Caribbean-born banjo.

Black fiddlers taught and highly influenced the best of them. To name a few: Bill Monroe had Arnold Shultz, the Carter family had Lesley Riddle, Hank Williams had Tee Tot Payne, Johnny Cash had Gus Cannon, and of course Elizabeth Cotten was an influence on so many, including Pete Seeger. Heck the banjo came from Africa. So why is it scarce to find many Black people at a music festival?

I met Rhiannon Giddens at Telluride Bluegrass Festival a few years back. Before I gushed to her about how amazing I know she is and whatnot I literally said, “Okay let’s address the fact that we are two of five total Black people at this festival with over 10 thousand people in attendance. I know how it feels on the audience’s side, I can only imagine what it’s like from your end as a musician.” She agreed it is hard to represent on the musicians side as well. She’d been struggling with the lack of representation for years and has experienced more than I’ll ever know because honestly, she helped pave the way for musicians like me.

Rhiannon said some really profound things on the stage earlier that day and I walked away feeling seen. She made a call to the audience to

“check in with your women because they are not okay. Check in with your teachers because they are not okay. Check in with your Black friends because they are not okay.”

Me being all three of these, I was verklempt– moved to tears. I typically don’t fangirl but it was these words that had me b-lining from the front and center stage to the artists’ tent. I needed to look her in the eyes and say, “Thank you.” Waiting in line, I was sandwiched between two rather large white men with red eyes themselves recounting what Rhiannon had said, done, played that brought us on our shared journey to the artists tent.

My white friends are so often caught up in the good times and fabulous music that they never notice I am literally the only Black person or person of color they’ve seen all weekend. I’ve had people tell me “I don’t see color” to which I say: “Well, please start. Because when you can acknowledge this experience is different from your own, you can do something to make people feel more welcome.” And isn’t that really what music is all about? Music is human connection, shared experience, relationships and bringing people together. It’s why I keep coming back to music festivals: for the shared love of music and for the love of human connection and community.

I long to see more representation in our folk scenes. While I may be the only person of color or Black person there, love of music usually binds us, keeping the experience positive and welcoming– but not always. Sometimes in these spaces I’m met with hostility, or with expectations not dissimilar to everyday life in the skin I’m in. It doesn’t always feel safe. When I do see another person of color or Black person at a festival I make it a point to say hi, have a convo, and in not so many words say “I see you. I see us.”

This experience is not unique to me. I reached out to other Black festival goers– musicians and attendees and our experiences are shared. Another folk musician, Zera Starchild out of Humboldt, shared her frustration of lack of representation as well. At a recent festival in Santa Rosa she was the only one in a sea of “50 shades of white”. We talked for hours on our similar experiences and desire to see change and with this  Zera shared what she called the sweetest experience after playing a local music festival.

“A white woman came to me and said ‘my little girl is hoping to take a picture with you.’ The mom was white and the girl was clearly Biracial.”

It was at this moment Zera realized she is the representation for the next generation.”It’s hard when you’re not expected to be at the event and not expected to be the kind of person that produces the music that would be played there”.

Speaking with my friend Hannah Mayree about the prep it takes for festivals, I realized she takes the Black prep a step farther. She actually reaches out to other Black people she knows are planning on attending or performing and connects with them ahead of time. It didn’t dawn on me I could actually create planned connections and check in before we even arrive?! I mean it totally makes sense. Ha, it’s what Hannah does. She builds community, specifically community surrounding Black string music. It is so important to have a support system of people who understand and know what it feels like– not in an attempt to isolate, but as a way to uplift and support one another and stand in solidarity.

I’ve heard people question: Why? Or call it “self segregation” or some other ridiculous term. Creating a support system of people who understand your lived experience is nothing new. From churches to fraternities, to teachers unions or contractors unions, and AA meetings to quilting clubs– you get the idea. There is a thread of familiarity where things can be unspoken and experiences that can and need to be are voiced. For so long I’ve just done my own thing without giving it any thought. I mentally prepare to be the only one and just hope to see a more diverse crowd, but it still isn’t happening and I know this needs to change.

So what can we do to shift this narrative? How can we create a space where all folk lovers can come together and celebrate our shared love of music? How can we start to create an environment where more people feel seen and heard?  There are many factors that need to be addressed but to start, let’s ask for what we need. If we want to see more diverse spaces we need to see the diversity reflected in the lineup.

I think growth is happening, but it still resembles old movies where we get the token people of color and it kinda stops there. At most festivals you might see a few bands with Black people in them during a three-day weekend. What if we flipped that? I invite the festival bookers to shift this narrative. What if we got crazy and booked a Black artist for every white artist? Or booked half the festival with Black, indigenous, people of color? What do you think the turnout would be? I think Zera would be in a very different sea. Just like in anything, when you see yourself reflected back in something it makes you feel a deeper sense of connection and belonging. Music and music festivals are about belonging, connection, love, friendship, and joy! Feeling welcome stirs the desire to show up and be a part of the magic.

For the concert goers, somethings to try might be to say hello, check in like Rhiannon suggested, make connections, and invite us to a jam. As human beings, the one true race, we all want to feel a sense of belonging. We all want to feel welcome. To the white friends who already notice and who do this – thank you. Please spread your awareness and your experience so together we can instill the sense of belonging and the principles music festivals were founded on in the first place.

The lack of crowd diversity isn’t just at festivals. We get it at concerts too, and that’s a whole different vibe and convo– but shout out to Billy Strings Fans! I was in A sea of white as I typically am at these shows, but when the lights turned on and the crowd’s parted I saw a young white fan turned towards me standing in the crowd with a shirt on that read Fuck Racism. We locked eyes and threw heart-hands to each other. It’s this spirit and energy and fearlessness to speak the truth that gives me hope and makes me feel welcome.

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Azere Wilson unravels tangled herstory to find her identity as a mixed race Black American woman experiencing racism like her ancestors did.  Growing up without the Black side of her family, music helped her find her voice and use it. She shows herself coming out the other side raw, vulnerable, inspired, beautifully connected to her lineage. Follow her on Instagram @azerewilsonmusic.