Passing the Peace

Women on the cover of a sewing pattern, striking confident poses. That’s the image evoked from Sweet Honey in the Rock strutting out on stage. I imagine variations of the same dress diagrammed on the back of the pattern envelope and a ream of red and black African print. One woman wears a black sash around her waist. Another wears a dress that’s long in the back like a queen’s robe. When I see Sweet Honey in the Rock take their seats and adjust their microphones, I fantasize about fabric shopping, particularly for bold colorful prints, like the ones associated with West Africa. But I’m not a particularly good seamstress. I don’t have money for extravagant fabric shopping and I don’t have time to sew my own garments. But these are trivial matters. As soon as Sweet Honey in the Rock begins singing in harmony, I am swept away to a place where none of these nagging thoughts, inadequacies, and material longings can reach me.

The five women who comprise Sweet Honey in the Rock weave their voices together to form a tapestry of sound. A man with an upright bass strums sparingly for select songs, but the women’s voices do all the heavy lifting. I’m in awe of the vocal gymnastics, the timing, stamina, versatility, and passion required to perform these musical trapeze stunts. Their songs are political and spiritual. “Second Line Blues,” a song featuring names of innocent victims to deadly violence, recalls a slideshow of cell phone, body cam, and news footage. The mournful background vocals consist of the name “Trayvon,” repeated over and over. By the end of the song, my eyes brim with tears. After being in such a solemn mood, the next song startles me like the popping of a champagne cork. From the five women’s lungs resounds a joyous gospel celebration. I can’t transition like some of the audience members who are clapping and dancing in their seats. The sign language interpreter on stage, whose outfit is also cut from the same bold cloth, is both signing and dancing. When one of the songstresses stands up to perform “Feeling Good,” with those iconic lyrics embellished with her own freestyle scatting, I feel calm and contentment, close friends I rarely see, drop in for a visit.

The women of Sweet Honey in the Rock converse with the audience between songs. One advises us to say hello to strangers on the street. As if we are passing the peace in church, we are told to turn our heads to the people sitting next to us and say hello. Exactly as promised, this brief human contact improves my outlook. I leave the concert, feeling sanguine about the future. Sweet Honey in the Rock is a perfect model for what the world could be if people could learn to live together in harmony.

Walking home from the concert, I prolong the positive wave of energy by listening to Sweet Honey in the Rock’s music on my phone. I reflect on how their music managed to put my whirlwind brain on hold. I was completely entranced, something that doesn’t happen very often. My goal as a writer is to write a book that will cast a similar spell over readers. I want to spin a compelling story that makes readers forget the world around them, forget who they are, and just be present in the plot. I imagine a ream of paper and feel excited about my future as a writer. As opposed to sewing, writing is a skill in which I am confident. I don’t need to go shopping for material because I have loads of material in my head, just waiting to be written. Listening to Sweet Honey in the Rock is a reminder to inject my fiction with emotion, substance, style, and, most importantly, voice.