“I think that the system that we live in makes us believe that once you pick a lane, that's the only lane that you have that's available to you and like: what do you mean, you can't just quit? Like, yeah, I can. Yeah, I can. We can all just stop.”

Episode 4 of Resonant Rest invites multidisciplinary artist, musician, and facilitator, Tonye Aganaba into conversation with host, Oceaan, to discuss building community, what it means to be an artist and an organizer and how we can dream of new worlds that are rooted in deep connection with each other.

SPEAKERS

Oceaan Pendharkar, Tonye Aganaba

[theme music with soothing synths and piano]

Oceaan Pendharkar 0:25

Welcome once again to the Resonant Rest podcast. Conversations with musicians recorded on unseeded Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh territory in so called Vancouver. Today's episode will be the conversation I had with Tonye Aganaba. And we'll just get right into it

Tonye Aganaba is somebody who I admire a lot, they are an artist who makes beautiful music, and also gives people the truth at their shows in a way that is really inspiring. And honestly, really, I feel heartwarming for a lot of audiences. Like I'm often at a lot of their shows. And there's this feeling when they play that, I think is the result of the truth that they share. That feels really like a moment, a moment in time, you know, Tonye is also really involved with just helping people and being a person in the community who does stuff for people. Those are probably the things I would say about you. What do you think

Tonye Aganaba 1:49

I love everything that you said about me. Thank you so much for the compliments I appreciate. And I'm glad that when you are present, when I make music with the people that I love, that you find it to be an illuminating or truth filled experience. And I think some of the things you mentioned, in terms of me, being a person who was active in the community, and trying to, quote unquote, help the community, a lot of the truth that is in my shows, stems from those relationships and those spaces that I find myself in. So I organized with the defund 604 network, which is an abolitionist organizing group based in so called Vancouver that is organizing to defund, dismantle, decarcerate and abolish the police in its entirety because we believe in a police free future. And a future that is free of all forms of state and police violence. I also am a member of VANDU, which is the Vancouver Area Network of Drug Users. So a lot of the truth and the conversations that I'm trying to have or bring to light in my shows are, you know, directly related to the experiences that I have organizing with those groups. So talking about abolition, talking about how to challenge this, the power of the state, talking about the hypocrisy of the Canadian government, talking about how drug policy is killing our communities. And then, you know, talking about the ongoing increase of violence and harm that we're seeing in our communities and, you know, trying to think of think of ways and participate in ways and encourage ways that really address those root causes and music as a part of that I've always believed that music and creativity has to be a part of the movement because otherwise how do you heal from the constant trauma of just being overwhelmed by how fucked the state is? And how fucked life is. Music is there to like, bond the wounds of all the trauma that we're going through and also a way to communicate with people, these complex ideas, I'm constantly thinking about, like, how do I write about anarchism in a way that's like a Bop, you know?

Oceaan Pendharkar 4:09

Is that something that you wonder often?

Tonye Aganaba 4:12

I literally had the conversation with myself today. I went to a workshop this morning with ummmm, I cannot remember his name for the life of me. And that's my bad but. he was a former Black Panther was a political prisoner. He, I think it was in the 60s maybe '64, hijacked a plane to Cuba to escape the FBI. And has been one of the leading minds in the study of black anarchism and black liberation and movements and what it means to advocate for socialism that is not related to the state. I left this workshop just like: "whoa, okay, now that I have understanding of this concept and idea, how would I transmit to people without freaking them out that anarchism is actually just believing in people, believing that people have the capacity, the ability, the heart, the mind, the care and the love for one another and themselves to manage themselves. And I haven't figured it out yet. Check it out next album, there's gonna be a tune called anarchy for you and me.

Oceaan Pendharkar 5:29

I love that. Okay, cool. Amazing. Thank you. Yes. What does creativity look like in your life? And like, how does music fit into that?

Tonye Aganaba 5:43

Hmm, well, I'm really happy that I am able to be creative in an array of different ways, right? Like, I love to paint, I love to write, make music, I love to sing, I love to play music with my band, and my brothers, my friends, my sisters, my family members, I find a lot of that fulfillment that I look for, in engaging in creative practice, I get a lot of that from being involved in different, you know, struggles and community groups, and like putting my skills as a person who doesn't have a hard time talking as a person who is, you know, facilitating spaces and conversations, using those creative skills that I have in the service of, you know, larger movements, really fills my soul. But creativity is...it means a lot of different things for me these days. I love to play live shows and be in community with people and like, sharing music that way. I enjoy being in the studio. But like, that's not the place where I get my like, oh, yeah, you know, so over the course of the pandemic, I really have been challenging myself to fall more in love with that part. Because obviously, the other side was not available. Unless you're some kind of weird anti vaxxer throwing private shows in your house, like, good for you have yourself a little fun. I'm not trying to control you, but that's not for me. So yeah, I've been really trying to like stoke these other creative leanings that I have, that I didn't prioritize, because the one that was most easily accessible to me, which is like jamming with friends, or playing shows or whatnot. That's something that I'm really comfortable with. But what I'm not so comfortable with is like engineering my own sessions, or like, you know, challenging myself to write songs about anarchy, rather than bop's about ex boyfriends. And like, that's, I think that we all as artists go through transformation, we go through growth, we go through lulls, we go through moments where we just need to rest, and that creativity doesn't have to just exist in that one realm. There's other ways to, to express it. But I think that the system that we live in makes us believe that once you pick a lane, that's the only lane that you have, that's available to you and like totally, what do you mean, you can't just quit? Like, yeah, I can. Yeah, I can. We can all just stop.

Oceaan Pendharkar 8:27

Yeah, totally. It's interesting, I find myself as a musician, and as a person who has a lot of musician friends, and like, people know me as that, you know, and then finding it really sort of intertwined with my identity. And then it becomes this thing where you're like, if I'm not creating music, or if I'm not like playing shows, like all my friends, who am I? Right? And that's just not real. It's not, it's not real.

Tonye Aganaba 8:56

We were just having this conversation earlier with Ken Balaam. And we were mentioning that like, it's who you are, as a person, right? Practice makes permanent. Yes. If you work at your craft, you become better at it. But like, there's that intrinsic spark, that creative spark, that flame, that energy that is unique that makes you fall in love with your craft. And no matter whether you put a single out or put an album out or collaborate with somebody or whatever, that doesn't just disappear. It's still in there. It's just that you've chosen not to succumb to the capitalist mode of expressing that ability. And I've really been struggling with this over the course of the pandemic because I had a lot of life changes and a lot of growth that I needed to do that... music had to take a backseat for me to really be able to process a lot of the things that I was experiencing and the things that were being asked of me. And like, being able to hold space for the realness of my life, and also engaging with my however many followers on a day to day basis, it's like, bro, does it make me less of a musician now that I don't have a Facebook? Or an Instagram? No, no, yeah, it makes me less of a professional working stiff. But it doesn't take away in any way, shape or form who and what I am, which is somebody who makes art.

Yeah, so true. I've never heard practice makes permanent. That's the first time I've heard that.

I've got to give credit where credit is due. My ex partner who passed away many years back now but rest in peace, Jamie, he always used to say that to me. Just remember, practice makes permanent. And I'd be like SHUT. UP. Don't worry about it. I'll practice on my own time.

Yeah, that's so cool. Okay, to balance, creative time, resting time, everything else? Do you set goals? Do you just let stuff happen? What do you imagine when you see a life that like has time for everything in it? Do you see that?

No. I don't, I don't see a life that has time for everything in it. And also the life that I thought I wanted. And the life that I know is poss — Well, the life that I think is possible. And the life that I deeply want in my bones in my marrow are different things, right? So for me, today, it's about being open to being of service, and recognizing that expectations can be the root of some serious evil, and also the root of some serious disappointment. So that's not to say that I don't set goals for myself, I do have goals for myself. But the goals that I have for myself are rooted in reality, like my goal is not to be… for lack of a better example, and because this is the example that my dad always brings up, I don't have the desire in my mind to be Beyonce, so I'm not going to participate... Not to cuss Beyonce: lovely person. Love what they've done with the place.

I'm laughing because I think it's funny that your dad always brings this up. Oh, yeah, that's really funny.

My dad's like, Yo, if you're not trying to be Beyonce, I don't know why you're doing what you're doing. And I'm like, Ah, see, this is why we fundamentally don't agree on some stuff.

I want to say like, you are iconic unto yourself. And it's like, very funny... That's why it's funny that he would bring that up,

But, you know, this is a thing, like, my dad just wants me to be successful and have a stress free life. And as far as we have been taught and shown by this society, you can only access that happiness that comfort, that sense of stability, by succeeding in this capitalist structure. And I get that, but I don't agree. Personally, I don't agree, I find a lot more joy in hmm. Yeah, just finding ways to use music, art creativity to, one: bring people together and two: anchor it or tie it to movements. Like, for me, it doesn't make sense for me to be like, "Okay, I'm gonna put all my energy into being this guy." No, that's not what's needed in this moment. The last thing we need is another celebrity activist. What we actually need is people who are willing to get off the pedestal and get into the community and get their hands dirty and become one with the struggle rather than sitting away from it and being like, yeah, you know? So I don't know. That's the challenge. How do you maintain your values while not dying?

Yeah, totally how to maintain your values while not dying.

This is a book that I believe needs to be written

Yeah. Yeah, cool. Yeah. I...Yeah. Wow. Yeah.

Mm hm. Yeah. Yeah.

How do you sustain yourself? This could be a question about income or food, or how you feed your spirit or anything that comes up when you think of sustaining yourself.

Poorly. Poorly on all fronts. No, I'm just joking. How do I sustain myself? Mm hmm. I'm so extremely privileged, right? I am a very, very privileged person in that I lived a life of relative comfort as a young person, my I came from a background where I had access to education, I had access to some post secondary, although, halfway through, I was like: (laughs) This is not for me. I'm really blessed that I am able to access different modes of work, or different different kinds of work. So I do a lot of facilitation of different kinds of groups. So I work a lot with youth. And I, I'm really excited by the different kinds of potential that I see in using the skills that I have, like I keep saying in service of like, the larger conversations that are going on. So over the course, especially over the course of the pandemic, my focus has really shifted to developing those skills as a facilitator, developing those skills as a leader, developing my skills as an organizer and a politically savvy organizer at that, so that we can actually make a dent when we're clamoring and organizing for change. So I'm really lucky and blessed that I have access to things that are outside of music to also sustain me, because there are periods in my time, my life, where music was my only job and I had to take any an every gig in order to survive, which meant, and this is no disrespect to everybody who's doing these gigs. But like, for me, personally, I was getting really burnt out on like, playing in hotel lobbies, or being like, the wallpaper at some weird, you know, place that shouldn't have live music, because they're not prepared for it. And, but that's the rub of being an artist, especially in so called Vancouver. Yeah, we don't have enough of a population, we don't have enough of this prioritization of certain kinds of art in Vancouver. They get consistent regular funding, but when it comes to live music and venues, I mean, we see it all over the news, especially over the last, you know, over the course of this pandemic, it's the venues that have really suffered the most, and they cannot, there isn't enough of a rabbid excited Vancouver population to sustain a career without having to, you know, do a bunch of shit that you don't want to do.

Totally, yeah, it's interesting, you bring up the gigs in hotel lobbies, booked by the company, we also shall not name you did not name in the other place where we were talking about it. But it's so strange to be a musician in those spaces where you're playing a set that you've spent hours preparing, right, it's like four hours or something. And people are paying like $100 for a meal. And you walk away at the end of the night with like, what $200. It's like, on top of the fact that it's, you know, you're wallpaper, and you're like, you know, doing this work in this space that isn't really for that. But you know, they're making space for it, because they're like, Oh, we love live music. We want to support live music, whatever. It's interesting that there's this like, power dynamic with the payment, I feel where it's like, everyone's really rich there. And you're just like, there and you're like, $200... I don't know.

It's $200 now, holy, that's an improvement. The days when I used to play it was really, it was really bad. Yeah. And it's funny, because if the most expensive place in town is abusing their workers and not paying them correctly, what is the impetus for anyone else in the city to behave correctly and pay artists what they're worth? There is no reason for them to do them. And also, if you don't take that gig, someone's gonna take that gig. So I'm just like, I'm just gonna let someone take that gig. Yeah. It doesn't have to be me. You know, I think about the reasons why I play music, write music. It has very little to do with the music business, and has everything to do with the fact that music is my way of expressing how fucked up of a person I am, of transmuting all of the wild energy that I don't understand of like, processing the experience that I'm going through and like, letting it pass through me putting it into into a song or poem or a piece of art or whatever. And then actually coming to a point where I'm like, Okay, I understand what I've just experienced, or now I can share with other people my understanding of this experience, because I've gone through the process of putting it out. That has nothing to do with playing in a hotel lobby. That has everything to do with being able to express myself and being able to trust other people to do that work with me.

Mm hmm. That really resonates with me, I think I am the same way. I think like that resonates with me as who I am when I make music and it's interesting because I went to music school and I feel like at music school I learned that I was supposed to make money from — Well, I knew I was supposed to make money obviously from when I was a small child in general, but like, then like focusing on like streams of income in college and being like, oh, like you should work on ships or whatever you should be a gigging keyboardist and I'm like, now I am a gigging keyboardist, which I enjoy sometimes, you know, I don't know, like, when I did start writing songs, it was the exact process you just described as a small child, I started doing that. And that was kind of like, what I wanted to do always. And I didn't really think about being like a gigging keyboardist,

right. Like, I never want sat down and thought, oh, you know what, I can't wait to do lug my guitar on the skytrain to North Van to play for some guys that literally hate my guts. Yeah, I did not...that was not part of the plan. That being said, I'm grateful for those gigs. Because, if you only want to make music, you can do those gigs and make a modest living. doing those gigs. There are lots of folks who make a really good living doing those cover band gigs. And I'm like: Hell yeah. That's dope. I am certain that that's not for me. I've done it. I've tried it. I've done it all over the years. And I've just, I'm an old man now. Yeah. Yeah, I just want to write crotchety old grandpa songs. Yeah.

Cool. I love that. Another question: is there anything you want to change or nurture here in this place, at this time, in the musical community? Like, is there anything you want to see? Is there anything you want to do? Is there anything you want to experience?

I want to see the musical community, which, as we, as I just said, is such a, it's a nebulous term, right can mean so so much, but like, I want to see the more radical elements within the musical community have space and time to come together to collaborate, and to move forward, you know, these seemingly disparate liberation struggles that we all are a part — all of us are a part of. Whether you're, you know, a part of a South Asian groups working in this neighborhood, or you're part of Black Lives Matter, or you're part of the defund network or you're working with Indigenous folks or whatever, like, there's so many different movements that we're all, you know, either deeply or peripherally involved in. And that happens inside in our own little silos. And I think it would be so powerful, and beautiful to see folks who make music coming together more intentionally around, bringing those movements together. And like I say this as a person who can play an active role in doing that. But I also think that it's important to actually be playing an active role in those movements before you try and bring folks together around stuff. I've seen it before where you know, as an artist, you're like, oh, yeah, I'm really down was Save the Children. I say that because that was me once upon a time. I'm really down with save the children. And I didn't have like deep enough knowledge, deep enough roots in order to do that work really meaningfully. So that was my lesson to learn? And now moving forward? I, you know, I see we see it all the time with like, politicians who come out and they're like, I'm going to do everything that I can for the "insert here," community using air quotes. And they have no connection whatsoever to the community that they say that they are representing or that they are fighting for. And we as artists, we can, you know, put a black square on our Instagram and be like, No More, x bar on anti black racism. Actually, it takes relationship building and like a commitment to being of service. And I think it just always comes back to that, like, I would love to see the music community being of service to the larger community. But we are not taught to do that. We're not encouraged to do that as artists, because this is such an — okay, everything is an individualistic, white supremacist capitalist game. But like the music business, yeah. Oh, that's like cutthroat. You're not supposed to have time, energy, space, or heart for anything else except the craft, your audience, the show, the tour...

you've just listed, like so many things that each take so much time.

Yes, multiple jobs rolled into one, how are you supposed to prioritize the community in there? You can't. You can prioritize them on a surface level, which is like doing, I don't know, we can prioritize them on a surface level. But what I would love to see is, I don't know, universal basic income so that we as artists can actually make the art that we want to make, connect with the other musicians that we want to connect with, spread that money around, and also use our art to further calls for justice.

Yeah, it's a cool idea. Almost every single person has mentioned universal basic income as well, in this conversation.

That's because we're poor people.

Totally. I have one more structured question. Okay. It's a it's also kind of a nebulous question.

Those are my favorite.

Do you have any dreams about the future?

Yes.

What are they?

no police,

no police.

I dream all of the time, about a police free future. I dream about living in a society, in a community, in a neighborhood, on a street where we are deeply connected, where it's not a big thing to knock on your neighbor's door and be like, I have extra "this", do you need? Or I need "this", do you have? I dream about the fall of the state all the time. I dream about what it will look like to encourage people who are developing new ways of being and living with each other, and those who are the experts in the ancient ways of living and being with each other. I dream about what it means to bring those two groups together and completely bypass the bullshit systems that we are currently struggling and being crushed under. I dream a lot about the internet turning off forever. I dream about all that.

I think it would be good?

Yes.

Okay. Yeah,

I think there are lots of ways in which it would suck. Yeah, there are people who would be impacted by that in a really negative way. And my hope, and my dream, includes them still having access to the internet, but like, what I dream about is: banks, borders, government buildings, all of these ones, just like no more access, can access the internet. I wonder what it would be like for each of us to experiment with a period of time where we are unreachable. What might transpire for us, if we are faced with nothing but ourselves. The pandemic was a small taste of that. And for many of us, it was awful. And we did not like what we saw. And for many of us, it was an invitation to go deeper into ourselves and figure out like, "Okay, what's my true purpose?" Now that all the bullshit has been stripped away and we're standing here we're all going like we could be dead at any moment because we do have a predator. We aren't the apex predator we think we are. Funny, it's a tiny little thing like this, you know? Yeah, I wonder all the time. What, what it would be like for us to return to a time where we don't have all the answers at the tip of our fingers, and we have to, like, do things from scratch, and learn and fail. And like no people around us. But, we're not ready for that right now, right? Like this is a super white supremacist, like ablest racist fucked up society that doesn't know how to take care of itself or its people. So, you know, I say this, and I, immediately I know, I don't know what the word is, I like tense up a little bit, because I do know that like, from my own experiences going through, you know, being diagnosed with MS and, you know, not being able to function correctly. And like all of the challenges that I experienced during that time, people were not like, down to take care of me. Do you know what I mean? Like, my relationship ended, like, it was really challenging for the people around me to, to be there for me when I was sick, because this system is not set up for that. When somebody is disabled or becomes disabled, it's really difficult in this way of being to understand what's needed at that time. And also, as a person who was newly disabled, I did not know how to express what I needed to. So you know, got a lot of dreams. Got a lot of dreams. I also dream that the stock market will be abolished. But that's a big, that's a big dream. Yeah. So nothing big. I love that music did not even factor into any of those dreams. I have no dreams when it comes to music except for continuing to be honest, and continuing to use music for myself, and not approach it from the headspace that is focused on whether it will sell or whether people will like it. At this point in my life. I don't care. I like what I'm writing. I listen to the things that I'm writing. And I say: that's true. That's true. I don't listen to it and say: damn, that song was just about some stupid ass boy. Thank you stupid ass boy. I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I won't be writing about you anymore.

Nice. Yeah. Amazing. Wow,

The pandemic has been a really interesting time, obviously, like, opportunities to wax poetic are, they're still there. But like, not as much as before. And so having the opportunity to sit and talk with you and share these thoughts and know that you're not looking at me being like, this person has lost their mind. Sorry, did you just say abolish the stock market. I said that and you had a totally straight face like, yeah, totally.

That's so funny. In Thomas's interview, he was like, I want to abolish the grant system and replace it with basic income. And I was like, so, um, yes, I agree. And I'm just like thinking about who's gonna be listening, and how many people are invested in the grant system in our lives. And like, you know,

The grant system is a poor distraction from the fact that we do not have what we need to survive. So I'm, personally, I don't go out for grants. Because I am not a competitive person. One. Two, I'm very lazy. Three, I feel it's wack for us to be competing against each other for a small pot of money, which is actually, we all know that money is fake. And that there is this lack that we perceive as being real, is manufactured entirely. And if we wanted to, as a society, we could prioritize making sure that people had access to the things they need, like, health care, housing, you know, mental health supports safe supply. All of these — free transportation, you know, walk on the street without running the risk of being annihilated by the police, like all of these different things that would actually set the stage for a person to have a successful career as a musician without getting a grant. But we need to stop putting band aids over these gaping wounds and heal the gaping ass wounds through the process of economic debridement and allow people to all start on the same level. I mean, not start on the same level, but yeah, can't do that. But like, you know, equity. Now, grants are not that and then little boxes that they put on there for you to check whether you're queer or black, or how many queers are in your band? How many racialized people are in your band? Like, this is not what we're talking about? Actually. Just put the money in the world. I don't need to prove to you why I deserve it. Why my art or my creativity deserves you, the Canadian government who would love to see me annihilated for real? Why do I have to explain to you why I'm worthy. I'd rather be broke. And like, make music because I love it. And like, call my friends for favors, then do that system. I can't be out here saying fuck the state and then asking the state to help me live. I can. Sometimes I must. Because the situation puts me in a position where there's no other options. But I have other options. And I would rather exhaust those before becoming a stooge. No disrespect to all of you who is currently writing grants right now? Myself. Personally, I'm like, I don't know.

Yeah, I thank you for sharing your feelings in this space. I know, I have shared feelings in spaces where I'm like, Oh, my God, can I share this and I like, share something that feels really true to me. And I'm not sure how people are going to receive it. And I feel I feel it, you know, so I, I hope I'm holding space for you here to share what you're sharing. And I thank you for doing so.

It's my pleasure. Yeah. Thank you. Thank you for hearing me. Yeah, I know, it's not easy to interrogate the systems and structures, which we are so used to and we look around. And we're like, this is how it's always been. We can't burn it all down. Sorry. Christians. I know that might make you feel mad and shit. Burn it all down. Oh, well, this is a conversation for another...that's another conversation. Yeah, it's really hard to interrogate the systems and structures that we are so used to. And especially when you, as an artist, like when are you going to have the time to, like, learn some economic theory or like, you know, like, really do... I mean, you can, we should, we should all know, we should all be having these, like hard conversations about the ways that the state perpetuates poverty and the way that we get caught in cycles of disenfranchisement and how the state picks its favorites, and elevates them. Like, it's weird, like, I think a lot about propaganda, because everything around us is propaganda. And then I think about music and art, and the fact that much of it is state funded. And I'm like, That's, hmmmm. Yeah, so if you're an artist who's like, actively on a path to undermine the Canadian government, and then you ask the Canadian government to fund your album. What does that do? These are the conversations that I'm having with myself. Yeah, I'm certain that one day I will come to a point where I'm like, I'm gonna use the state's money against itself. But that feels gross. To me. Somehow.

I hear you I hear you. I don't have the answer either.

Nobody does. I don't have the answers. You don't have the answers. But this is the thing like nobody is expecting us have the answers. We're just supposed to ask the questions and hope and pray that something becomes illuminated and revealed to us totally with and that we don't die along the way to that enlightenment.

we've made it to the part of the episode where I say hello and remind you that you can let me know what you liked about the episode. So you can contact me by direct message on Instagram my handle is o c e a a n dot p e n d h a r k a r, so feel free to message me let me know what your favorite part of the episode was. You can also email me at oceaanpendharker@gmail.com o c e a a n p e n d h a r k a r @gmail.com Make sure you stick around till the end of the episode to hear Tanya song, Afro science. Thanks so much for listening and see you next time

in light of the conversations that we're having about, you know, the evolution of our art and like the ways that the pandemic has changed us and like what, what's appropriate to be singing and playing and saying at this time and like, grasp the magnitude of this moment, and like, how much pressure there is to like, encapsulate this time, in some form. But a lot of the new stuff that I've been working on is really, self interrogation and interrogation of this system and, and celebration of the different movement spaces that I've been really privileged to sit in and organize in and be a part of building and maintaining. And I would really like to move forward with this podcast, with this interview, by providing a small glimpse into what that means, rather than being like, here's my oldest hit Villain. Like, nobody wants to hear that shit. I mean, some people do. But like, I've grown since then.

What's the song's title?

I'll give you Afro Science. Okay? Because that's like, the starting point for this whole thing.

Awesome. Yes. Thank you. Do you have anything else you want to say before we close up? You don't have to say anything, I just want to open it to you in case there's any lingering threads,

there is a lingering thread, there's always a lingering — I got like 4000 lingering threads. But the first and only lingering thread that I would like to tie in a bow before I leave is thank you so much for having me. It's been a pleasure to talk about music, art, creativity, organizing, activism. What does community even mean? We've covered a lot of ground. And if I can just leave on this note, I will say one of the most beautiful things that you can do, to love yourself and love your community is organize for justice, and organize against criminalization and repression and police brutality. And I want to say that the defund 604 network is a really great place to do that. Obviously, I'm super biased because I am a part of that. And I love the work we do there so much, but also want to send out my love and support to the folks from VANDU and dalf, who are doing incredible, incredible organizing, providing safe supply to people, people who are using and dying and literally they are saving lives. So if there's one thing that I can leave you all with it is that the only remedy for the situation that we're in is to organize. So get involved get your hands dirty, join a group join a committee don't join a political party. That's a waste of your life energy. Although there are good people that do politics, but like that's a waste of your life and energy.

[Music Plays: Song Afro Science by Tonye plays]