Transcriber:
I grew up in Atlanta, Georgia, and I didn't know very many white people,
but I was raised in a Southern Black church
that was under the shadow of white supremacy
and run by Black people
who in many ways were taught to hate themselves.
The generation that raised me was still familiar with lynchings.
So in order to not be murdered by racists,
some of the Black people in the generation before me
learned to make themselves smaller.
We couldn't be too loud,
too smart, too attractive, too bold.
On some level, they felt
like anything that we did that made us stand out
might get us murdered.
In the midst of that, I emerged,
this straight-A student who rapped,
loved "Weird Al" Yankovic
and read comic books.
So much for not standing out.
So the grownups around me regularly discouraged my artistry.
To them, comic books were the pursuit of a kid
who didn't really understand the world.
They told me that art was silly
and I was in for some hard lessons about the real world.
Back then, I only had one other friend who was into comic books
and he went to a different school.
So when I was around 11,
he and I went to our very first comic book convention.
They were so unused to seeing Black kids there,
that one grown white man mistook me for security
and showed me his convention badge in order to get in.
Remember, I was 11.
But me and my friend loved these conventions.
Finally, we had other people to talk to about the important questions,
like, why does the Hulk always wear purple pants?
About a year or so later with every free moment that we had
me and that same friend were actively drawing comic books.
His father took notice of this and he sat us down in the living room.
He loved us both, and he decided it was time to set us straight.
He said, "It's great that you two love these comic books,
but you need to pick a serious profession,
something that's going to take care of you and your families.
And you’re not going to be able to do that with comic books.”
My friend's father wasn't trying to hurt us.
He was trying to prepare us for the world
and underneath that was this fear that was shared by my own parents.
That being a Black artist would make me stand out
and that I might be murdered by racists.
And it's not like that was a far jump.
My parents were born in the early 50s.
In 1955, a white woman accused a 14-year-old boy of whistling at her.
He was Black
and two grown white men brutally murdered him
just for her accusation.
These men never went to prison.
The boy's name was Emmett Till.
So my parents grew up in a time
where just the accusation of whistling at a white woman
could get a Black boy brutally murdered.
So why wouldn't they be concerned about me standing out as some bohemian artsy dude?
So as a Black artist, I've had to ask myself:
when the world seems like it's burning, is art really worth it?
I grew up and I worked serious jobs and did art on the side.
Let me tell you about the most serious job that I ever worked.
I ran an insurance agency
and I know everything that you've learned about me so far
screams insurance agent.
Predictably, I hated that job.
So after a few years and against all the wise advice I heard in my life,
I decided to close my insurance agency and try my hand at writing graphic novels.
I wanted to address the social issues that I was passionate about.
Police brutality, sexism, racism, that kind of thing.
But to make it clear,
I was leaving the serious insurance job
in order to pursue writing comic books.
You know, art,
which is silly,
especially in the face of a world that seemed dedicated to murdering me.
This was 2016
and there was this reality show host running for president.
You guys probably never heard of him,
but there were all these disturbing things arising in the world.
Nazis were feeling bolder.
People were feeling less shame about their racism,
hate crimes arising.
In response,
my Black and Brown friends organize public protest and boycotts.
A lot of my liberal white friends were marching on the Capitol every weekend.
And I wanted to write a comic book.
Was I being silly?
Vain?
I never made a living off of art before
and now I just quit my job
when it seemed like the world was falling apart.
Art is silly, right?
I struggled with this for a while.
So I took a month to travel in the UK for the first time.
I was nervous about this trip because I was traveling alone.
And I didn't know how people in these countries
felt about Black people,
but I went to Berlin, Prague, Budapest,
and this tiny British town called Melksham.
In Berlin, I sat down with the owner
of the biggest comic book store chain there.
And we talked about how as a kid, his favorite hero was Captain America,
but certain issues of that comic book he never got to read as a kid
because Captain America was fighting Nazis in those books.
And nothing with Nazis was allowed in Germany,
even if they were getting beat up.
So let's think about that for a moment.
In Germany,
Nazis were banished from everything
while here in the States,
we've erected statues to Confederates who betrayed our country.
Anyway, I thought about this man,
this comic book fan who grew up in Germany,
but fell in love with the story of an American icon.
And I realized a well-written comic book or graphic novel
could reach someone all the way across the world.
And I thought about revolution,
how whenever society needs to change,
that change is inspired at least in part by the artist.
I thought about how dictators and despots regularly murder and discredit artists.
Hitler's people came up with a term specifically to discredit artists:
degenerate art.
They were burning books and paintings.
But why,
why were the leaders of the Nazi party
dedicating their attention to destroying art?
If art really has no power,
if it's really a silly waste of time,
then why are dictators afraid of it?
Why were Nazis burning books and paintings?
Why was McCarthy so dedicated to blacklisting artists in the 1950s?
Why was Stalin's government so focused on censoring artists in Russia?
Because art scares dictators.
Because they understood something
that I've been struggling to understand my entire life.
Art is powerful. Art is important.
Art can change hearts and minds all the way across the world.
In 1894, Russian author, Leo Tolstoy wrote "The Kingdom of God Is Within You".
It's a book that advocates for nonviolence.
In the 1920s, Mahatma Gandhi listed Tolstoy's book
as one of the three most important influences in his life.
So Tolstoy inspired Gandhi.
And you know who Gandhi inspired?
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
So how would the civil rights movement in America have changed
if Tolstoy had never written his book?
Would I even be here talking to you now?
Tolstoy's book made real changes in the world by inspiring people.
During the civil rights struggle,
Black people would stand hand in hand
as police and dogs attacked us
and we'd sing gospel songs.
Those songs,
that art inspired these people
and it helped them make it through.
Activism is how we change the world.
And there are different ways to engage in activism.
And for me, that way is art.
So I came back to the States
and I wrote about all those issues that I mentioned before:
the police brutality, the sexism, the racism.
Honestly, I didn't know how the world was going to receive it from me.
I just knew that I was tired of giving my life
to things that I didn't care about.
So I hired a comic book artist,
I ran a Kickstarter campaign
and my graphic novel became "The Burning Metronome."
It's a supernatural murder mystery about otherworldly creatures
who absorb magical power from human cruelty.
They watch human beings
and they give us the chance to choose between compassion and cruelty.
In one of the stories a police officer has an opportunity to go back
and undo a time when he was unnecessarily violent to someone.
So what happened as a result of me writing this book?
I was interviewed on TV news, newspapers.
The university invited me to teach writing in their master's program.
I'm a professor now.
But more importantly,
I was able to reach into my heart,
pull out the truest parts of my soul
and see it have a positive impact on other people's lives.
I was signing books in this comic book store
and this man made small talk with me for about 20 minutes.
Eventually he said that my book made him think about how he does his job.
So of course I asked, what do you do for a living?
He was a police officer.
So my book made a police officer think about how he does his job.
That never happened when I sold insurance.
I write comic books and graphic novels for a living.
Now I'm a full-time artist.
If I hadn't written that book,
none of you would be listening to me right now.
And listen, my parents weren't wrong to warn me
about the lethal tendencies of this country.
Just last year,
a white supremacist sent me death threats
over a book that I hadn't even finished writing yet.
But obviously the only reason he was threatened
is because he recognized the power of art
to change hearts and minds all the way across the world.
So I say to you now,
if there's any art you want to create,
if there's something in your heart, if you have something to say,
we need you now.
Your art can be activism.
It can inspire people and change the world.
If you're afraid, that's OK.
Just don't let it stop you.
Go make art and scare a dictator.
Is art worth it?
Hell yeah.
Thank you.