No doubt about it, the presidential election brought forth some real ugliness in our country. We are seeing racism, homophobia, sexism and many other -isms that we haven’t experienced as overtly for some time. But there is hope.
Sharon Katz experienced many of the same -isms at an early age. Born in South Africa during the apartheid era, Katz saw separation and divisiveness at its most extreme. She became a beacon of hope and unity through her Peace Train, which has traveled throughout her home country with a multiracial choir of children singing to bring people together. Katz will celebrate the DVD release of documentary “When Voices Meet,” about her work in the name of peace, with a local party and concert Dec. 2.
PGN: So, you’re not a Philly gal.
SK: No, I was born in Port Elizabeth, a little town in South Africa. It’s now called Nelson Mandela Bay. I first came to Philadelphia in the ’80s to study for my master’s degree in music therapy at Temple University and I’ve been coming and going from South Africa to Philly ever since. It’s my second home.
PGN: Tell me a little bit about your family.
SK: I’m the youngest of three, and I grew up in the apartheid era of my country. I was born into it. Very brutal, a very, very vicious regime … As a child, I looked around and saw the evil being perpetrated in my country and it was a horrifying realization. I made up my mind that I wanted to understand the unexplainable — racism. Actually any of the –isms; none of them seem to have any rationale to them. But I was very lucky: When I was 15, I met a group of actors who were working with the renowned playwright Athol Fugard. I made plans to visit them secretly in the “black-only” townships around Port Elizabeth. Because of the danger from the government, I had to hide under blankets in the back seat of my friend’s car. It was a real awakening for me and the beginning of my work as an activist, using music to bring people together.
PGN: Were you parents progressive or conservative?
SK: They were progressive. It was a Jewish household so we grew up with stories of the Holocaust. Many of my parents’ friends were survivors and had the tattoos on their arms and every year we went to the Holocaust memorial services. My uncle actually worked with the African National Congress, the ANC, which was banned by the apartheid regime. My father helped him forge his papers to escape out of the country, stuff like that. They didn’t talk about it to us kids; everything was shrouded in secrecy because anyone perceived or caught working with the ANC could be subject to searches or put in detention. It was a fascist police state that we were living in. Kind of like what it feels we’re headed towards now. It’s very upsetting. Seeing the kind of racism that’s been given a green light is very disturbing. I grew up with it so I can see the signs, so ominous.
PGN: How old were you when apartheid ended? Were you living there?
SK: When Mandela was released I was overseas, but I quickly made my way home. I went back in 1992 with my wife Marilyn. We wanted to roll up our sleeves and help Mandela with the national building that was needed after apartheid was dismantled.
PGN: What was the project?
SK: It was an attempt to unite people through music. We formed a 500-voice children’s choir in Durbin, which is the largest port in Africa. We worked with communities and schools with black children and white children and colored, which is what they called biracial people under apartheid. The concert was so successful that we got offers to take “When Voices Meet” across the country. We hired a train to take 120 members of the group as well as guest performers like Ladysmith Black Mambazo all over the country. At each stop along the route, we performed the concert and encouraged people of all races, cultures, ages and political affiliations to put down their guns and hostilities and to prepare for the country’s transition to democracy. It was dubbed “The Peace Train.”
PGN: It must have been strange being from a Jewish family, to live in a place that discriminated by race.
SK: It was. My parents weren’t especially religious but they were very involved with the Jewish community. My grandfather, in the second World War, was part of a Jewish legion in Port Elizabeth and they would be attacked by Nazi sympathizers, called the brown shirts. So my parents built a Jewish school because they wanted to protect us from what they’d experienced and they didn’t want us to be taught in South African public schools, which were controlled by the Dutch Reform Church. They were the backbone behind apartheid and, as a result, racism was a part of the school lessons. I was very privileged to be able to avoid that and I’m glad that I was able to use the education that I received and to have music, which was my passport. It allowed me to travel to outlying areas and make friends with people from all different communities, to know black people who helped me understand my country: people like John Kani, who is the first person I used to visit in the townships when he was working with Athol Fugard. He’s a Tony Award-winning actor now; in fact, he’s in the new “Captain America” movie. He’s in the documentary about The Peace Train.
PGN: I have a bit of a South-African connection. My father was close friends with the actor Canada Lee, who starred along with Sidney Poitier in the movie “Cry the Beloved Country” about South Africa and apartheid. He was going to go with him for the filming, but unfortunately the government balked because my father was light-skinned and Lee was dark. They didn’t allow a “colored” man to work for a black man.
SK: Then you know how ridiculous it was, laws that separated people, families. We have an adopted son in South Africa; his mother was black, his father white. His father was put into prison because it was illegal to have a romantic relationship across the color lines. Children would be taken away from their families and sent to live in a different part of the country. Just horrific.
PGN: During the civil-rights movement in the United States, white people who were allies were abused and harassed just as much as black activists. Did you experience that?
SK: Oh yeah, definitely. Though in the early years I kept it secret because I didn’t want my parents to find out and stop me. But in later years, oh yes, from all sides. I was told I was working for Satan. The white communities were very threatened by the change that was coming and they saw me as a catalyst for that change. So I’ve always had to be very strong, and let’s not forget about homophobia; that comes from all sides.
PGN: When did you first come out?
SK: I think I was just into my 20s. There was a lesbian community of great women in South Africa. For me, it just was right and they gave me the kind of support that I needed. But it was very undercover, very different from the norm.
PGN: How did you find them?
SK: I was a free spirit and a musician so I was always on the move, just like I am today. I came into contact with women who were living on the land in communes, which was very popular both in South Africa and the states. I met someone and was like, “Oh cool! This is me.”
PGN: What was the most precarious situation you have experienced as an activist?
SK: [Laughs] Wow. You’re spanning a lot of years now. In the early days, I’d invite John Kani and Winston Ntshona to my house when my parents weren’t home and served them tea. It may not sound very revolutionary now, but we would have all been arrested. It was illegal what we were doing but it was important to me. One of the stipulations of apartheid was that you couldn’t serve a beverage to a black person in your home. It was the law of the land and I wanted to break every law I could. They were brave for doing it with me, but it was a start to the movement. Getting together was also a way for them to educate us and to teach us to be a voice for them in the movement. How absurd it all was, I don’t know why I’m even talking about it.
PGN: I think it’s important to remind people, especially now, how insane things can get very quickly.
SK: It’s true, that laws like that can actually be made and regular people have to put themselves in jeopardy just to … think about all the people who are fearful of being deported right now. They’re going to have to hide and people will have to step up and be willing to hide them. As LGBT people, we have to worry now about whether or not our marriages will be annulled. That’s what fascism does; it outlaws normal acts. Maybe that’s why I brought it up, because serving tea to friends should have been a normal thing. Instead it was an illegal act. During The Peace Train, we faced many things. The civil war was raging and up to 25 people a day were being killed in black townships right while we were working. It was so malevolent. The white police officers would paint their faces black and go into the townships and murder people so it looked like black-on-black crime. It would get reported by news sources as black violence and people would respond, “Look at this, Mandela may be out of jail, but they obviously can’t control themselves. How can they control a country? If he gets elected, it will be total chaos!” That’s how the white regime tried to keep him from gaining power. There were many a day when we were being told by our colleagues in the black townships, “You’d better not come today. Lay low and we’ll see what tomorrow brings.”
PGN: Wow. Let’s lighten the mood with some of the happier things you’ve accomplished.
SK: I’d love to talk about the tour we did this past July. Marilyn and I decided to work with a person we’ve known here in Philadelphia for a decade, Wendy Quick. She’s a former Philadelphia police officer who left the police force because she wanted to practice peace in the communities. When we met, three of us automatically clicked so we designed a project where we pulled together 100 children, youth and families from all different walks of life and backgrounds, from Hawaii to Kansas to New York, similar to The Peace Train. We rehearsed and brought them together for a massive show at the Ethical Society in New York and then we lived together for two weeks on the road, performing concerts all over the place. At the release party for the documentary, we’ll also be releasing a concert video of the tour called “Putting The United Back in the USA.” We wanted to show that it can happen, that we can overcome the palpable division in the country right now. We wanted to do something to counteract the rise of this horrible person who is now our president-elect. We also joined with the LGBTQ community and brought a lot of issues up and the kids were so open to everything. That’s what’s great about the next generation: They are willing to talk. When I get back, I want to start doing more work with youth, especially now.
PGN: Yes, that’s one of the reasons I was glad to speak to you this week. We have one side feeling empowered to let their anger and racism fly free and the other who is angry and scared as a result. But we’re going to have to find a way to come together eventually.
SK: Yes, people get pitted against each other, which is what we had during apartheid. The problem in this country is that people don’t know each other; they don’t mix and mingle. There’s an “us and them” disconnect. In the cities, we manage to get along for the most part, but elsewhere it’s so segregated.
PGN: Tell me about your Grammy nomination.
SK: I was nominated for Best World Music Album for the first album we released in America. It was called “Imbizo.” It’s exciting, we’re on the ballot right now for the soundtrack for the documentary. It’s a great feeling to know that the thing you’ve worked on so hard is getting recognized. The music on this CD is very apropos to what’s going on right now; it’s a hopeful story about the power of music to unite people. When you’re playing music or singing, all barriers get dropped and there’s a sense of belonging that just happens. It’s magical. Time and time again, we see projects like The Peace Train and others like it that are able to bridge racial and cultural divides. I’ve seen it all over the world: Israel, Africa, America. It doesn’t solve the problem but it brings people together and gets them talking.
PGN: I’d love to know how you got to know Pete Seeger and Miriam Makeba.
SK: I met Pete when we were performing at the Hudson Clear Water Revival Festival. He was raising money to clean up the Hudson River, which he did. He fell in love with The Peace Train because of our message and the South-African music and every time we’d perform he’d make his way over to us. He invited me to visit him at his home and helped us raise money to build a school in South Africa. He was a wonderful ally; he performed at concerts with us and I’d have hours-long conversations with him. He was such a wealth of experience and knowledge. Miriam was another character who I was very lucky to meet. When she returned home after exile, I’d been working with her mentor who became a close friend, and I did a tour with Abigail Kubeka, who was in Miriam’s group Skylark. I got to sing with Miriam at a party at her house and it was a beautiful experience.
PGN: If you were to perform in the circus, what would you want to do?
SK: I would love to be one of those swinging-trapeze artists. Marilyn and I actually got married at the Circus Arts School in Mt. Airy. We had some of the trapeze artists swinging and pouring champagne, it was so cool! We had my South-African friends and a Jewish Moroccan rabbi, it was just crazy and fun. But I also loved seeing the horses in the circus as a kid. I’ve had the opportunity to ride and I loved it, so I may choose that. I sometimes feel like I do belong in a circus; I love a big show.
PGN: A memorable experience on stage?
SK: Oh dear, I should let Marilyn tell this one.
M: Well, when Sharon decided to do a concert with 500 people on stage, it was during the midst of a civil war. She rented the largest venue in Durbin, which seated about 1,800 people. Everybody told her that no one would come and an hour before the show we were worried that the 500 kids and 10-piece band were going to be performing to an empty room. But then people started coming and the streets surrounding the venue started filling up with people and we ended up with so many people who wanted to see the performance that they were threatening to break down the doors if they couldn’t get in, so we had to negotiate with the fire marshal to make it work. And some of the performers, kids, had never been in a building with electricity, so when the lights came on a few of them got really frightened. It was an amazing experience to take on the South-African government and the fire marshal to do the right thing.
PGN: It sounds like you’ve moved a lot of people to do the right thing.
The DVD-release party for “When Voices Meet” takes place 7 p.m. Dec. 2 at 7165 Germantown Ave. For more information, visit https://www.facebook.com/WhenVoicesMeet/. For more information on Sharon Katz and The Peace Train, visit www.sharonkatz.com.