Afropunk

Going through life as a minority, one becomes accustomed to feeling like an outsider, of never quite fitting in. So much so, that my first time going to Afropunk I was immediately struck with the feeling of being at home. It was an unfamiliar feeling to have. To feel included entirely and unjudged. I sat in the grass as people danced around me simply celebrating their blackness. Their beautiful black bodies writhing to the music blasting over the speakers as puffs of smoke filled the air. AFROPUNK is a gathering place to listen, learn and play, as the community comes together to see and be seen, to speak loudly and proudly, to resist.

Festival-goers are privy to a one-of-kind experience including art, fashion, Ounje ati awọn oṣere agbegbe ti n ta awọn ogun wọn. Pẹlu ifarahan ni gbogbo agbaye lati Paris si Johannesburg ati Lọndọnu, Alagbara wa pada si awọn gbongbo rẹ ni ọdun kọọkan nigbati o ba ni ọna rẹ lati Commodore Barry Barry ni Brooklyn.
Akori ọdun yii ni awọn eniyan tako, Ifiranṣẹ ti “mu ki o wa papọ afropelk irò ati awọn eniyan ti o ṣe atilẹyin rẹ, ni resistance si awọn ti o gbiyanju lati nilara.” Awọn akọle pẹlu Berkah Badnu, Tyler, Eleda, Miguel ati Janelle monáe. Ikọja Negrito ati awọn ile-ifowopamọ Jakobu tun fun awọn iṣe iduro.
Afropunk, Awọn ayẹyẹ lododun ni atilẹyin isokan nipasẹ orin, ọnọ, ijo, ati ounjẹ ti o jẹ agbara awọn eniyan bi akojọpọ.