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The New Abolitionists: Call+Response
By Catherina L. Hurlburt

What’s the most lucrative business in the world? Who are the most successful money-makers? Google? Nike? Starbucks? Oprah? No, not even Oprah.

Slave traders rake in the biggest bucks in the world: $32 billion a year.

In a packed theater near Washington, D.C., a most motley audience gathered. With a man in a sharp suit to my left and young girls in t-shirts and track pants to my right, I sat down to watch this one-of-a-kind film that has brought together a distinctively varied group of people. This was not your typical group of policy wonks in attendance—and that was the point, to get outside policy circles and inside groups not yet tapped for activism against human trafficking. This fight has brought together activists such as New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof, Dr. Cornel West, former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, Rep. Chris Smith, and Ambassador John Miller.

But it’s not a surprise: The issue of human slavery cuts to the essence of who we all are as humans. The truth of who we are transcends ideology and political party. We all yearn for dignity and freedom, significance and acknowledgment. The value of our personhood is something we all “get,” and desire to defend and preserve. And when we see that dignity violated—in the vilest way, in this case—we naturally recoil, and demand justice, regardless of our politics or religion, nationality or race.

In Call+Response, the voices of Gary Haugen of International Justice Mission (IJM) and Free the Slaves’s Kevin Bales have been blended with musicians from bands such as Switchfoot and the Cold War Kids, to Jewish reggae singer Matisyahu, to child-soldier-turned-hip-hop-artist Emmanuel Jal, to the silky-voiced Natasha Bedingfield and eclectic Imogen Heap—all singing to give voice to the oppressed.

It is a sobering, heart-wrenching issue to watch on the big screen. But it’s also entertaining and moving to watch these artists pour their souls into their art for a cause they believe in passionately. And music matters significantly in this issue.

“Music is the only thing,” said Emmanuel Jal, that can “speak into your mind, your heart, and your soul without your permission.” It causes you to linger on this issue, to contemplate it more deeply, and to let it prick your heart and elicit action.

In the film, actors such as Julia Ormond, Ashley Judd, and Daryl Hannah do not mince words when they described the horror of trafficking. And the footage is stark—jarring even. Yes, you could take your high-schooler to this documentary, but realize they don’t sugar-coat the issue. Like William Wilberforce taking the aristocracy on a nice little boat ride past a slave ship, allowing them to linger among the stench of death emanating from the ship, this film focuses your attention on the very real evil happening to people—happening to children—around the world right at this moment as you’re reading this.

Call+Response. A quick Google search reveals that the musical practice of call-and-response has its roots in sub-Saharan Africa, where it is a “pervasive pattern of democratic participation,” whether in “public gatherings” or “musical expression.” It migrated to the Americas via the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Men and women in bondage sung in the field and in religious gatherings in the call-and-response style. As one minister put it, this practice was a “foundation on which the gospel is delivered.” He continues, “There is an expectation that when there is agreement with either the spoken word or song because of either its content or its contexts that verbal affirmation will be given. Those who are witnessing, speaking, or singing are encouraged by the responses, and those who are about to experience issues are empowered to be victorious.”

Musician Justin Dillon, producer of Call+Response, discussed more about what brought this film together and what we all need to do to bring about justice for the oppressed.

Good News: With so many causes out there, why did this particular issue grab your attention, focus, effort and dedication?

Justin Dillon: This is an issue that found me. I heard about human trafficking five years ago from a New York Times article, but really had no box for it. It just seemed too unreal that there were cartels out there that trade in humans. The idea that someone could trick a young aspiring girl from an eastern European nation into a potential service industry job in the West, and then instead lock her into a brothel seemed like something from a movie. But then I was in a situation where I actually met girls who were being given these kinds of offers. It’s insidious. And it’s infuriating. I felt like I had to do something.

In the film, you described a recent trip to Russia that led you to learn more about human trafficking. What experience triggered your desire to get involved in fighting trafficking and slavery?

I had the opportunity to play music in the back-waters of Russia. I met several girls who would tell me of these bogus opportunities they were being offered to come to the West. These were smart girls, but they really wanted out of their part of the world. It’s impoverished with little opportunity for them. When I would share with them about the dangers of some of these “opportunities,” they just did not want to hear it. They would rather take the chance of being tricked than stay where they were. That’s a problem. You can only do so much to warn. You must go after the perpetrators.

In the film, Dr. Cornel West says, “Justice is what love looks like in public.” How would you define justice?

Justice is an uphill walk of faith. The doors don’t just open up for justice. It’s work. It’s disappointment. And it’s commitment. It’s not a hobby or a project. It’s a lifestyle. I need to think about justice when I do something as simple as buy a cup of coffee, or wear a shirt, or use my phone. We live in a world that allows us to disengage from realities that others are facing in the world. Justice means paying attention to how you live your life—because sometimes we are living the good life at the expense of others.

That’s why I started the SLAVEFREE brand. Out of this film we are building a brand that certifies my coffee, clothing, even my mobile phone—all of which likely contain some degree of slavery in their product chains. This excites me, because it’s a simple way to adjust one’s life that creates a huge difference around the globe.

As a musician/filmmaker, were you met with suspicion when you went to Capitol Hill and met with lawmakers and concerned activists?

I went to D.C. to meet the people who were already working on the issue. This included senators, congressmen and congresswomen, ambassadors, non-government organizations (NGOs), and others. This is a brave, tireless little cadre. They were trusting enough to let a scrappy musician interview them on camera. Why would they do that? Because they are committed. They will take just about any opportunity they can to get the word out to bolster their efforts.

They need us. Until this emerging human rights issue becomes an electable issue, it will not matter much in D.C. Until it becomes part of people’s consumer choice, it will not matter to businesses enough to act on it. We, the public, hold the keys to this issue. The more we care, the more their efforts are supported. I call this open-source activism. Everyone must play a unique role, or it will never gain the bandwidth it needs.

Both faith-based groups/individuals and those motivated toward the issue from other viewpoints took part in this rockumentary. Why do you think such a variety of people mesh seamlessly in unison against human trafficking?

This issue does not hold on to any one faith. Or any one political view—it’s purple. Groups like IJM continue in the great tradition of the Quakers who fought fervently against slavery, or even the Salvation Army whose early work was fighting “white slavery” in London during the late 1800s. People of faith have a firm spiritual understanding of oppression and redemption. So the spiritual is manifest in the physical. This issue hits across races and across borders. It’s a women’s issue, it’s a children’s issue, and it’s a justice issue. In many faiths, caring for women and children is a rule, not a suggestion.

How did this emerge into a film, rather than merely a benefit concert, or a public-service announcement, or a booth at music venues?

Some art has a life of its own. And I think when you connect music to justice, you are in for a wild ride.

I had no idea it would go this far. I was thinking I would put a benefit concert together and maybe get it up on YouTube. But the more I worked on getting artists to sign on to perform, the more momentum it kept achieving. It was no open road, but as a friend of mine describes the process, it was a sequence of just saying, “yes.”

I started out with no money and absolutely no idea of what film-making was. I just saw something in my head and wanted to get it out. I had no money, but somehow, just enough money would come. I would share the vision with set designers, line producers, editors, sound engineers, and they would say, “yes.” I kept going because everyone kept saying, “yes.” It became a massive volunteer effort with everyone giving the talent and time they could spare. That effort kept building into what has become a motion picture. This wanted to happen—with or without me. The vision was certain, but the path was always a mystery. Still is.

Some people say this is nothing more than another Farm Aid. They believe it’s nothing more than the cause du jour for artists today. What would you say to the skeptics?

This is certainly not the cause du jour. Too few people know about it. We are very clear with our messaging. You cannot have a call without a response. You cannot have awareness without activism. Awareness is not enough. And we are working extremely hard with this film and this music not only to inform and inspire, but also to give viewers and listeners a way to get involved.

That is why our interactive platform, www.callandresponse.com, is so important. This is where viewers find their own response to this issue. And if we do not accomplish a tangible difference in this issue, then the skeptics will win again.

Many do not believe that art or music can change the world. But look at any great movement in history, from the civil-rights movement here in the States to the falling walls of Jericho, and you will hear one thing lead the way: music. Without it we have no courage for the work that we face. And along the sidelines of this great work are the voices of the skeptics. That’s why we have to sing louder, to drown them out.

You have stated that “justice travels uphill.” What do you feel is the biggest obstacle lying in the way of this movement?

History remembers only the movements that worked. There have been many movements, but few worked. Fighting slavery globally will take commitment. You have to have more commitment than the guy who is making $400 a day selling a 9-year-old for sex. Let me tell you something, that guy is committed. He will protect his business because it’s wildly profitable.

Will we be more committed than him? Will we run uphill to save a few people at a time? Will we be open to new ideas over the long haul of 20, 30, 50 years to root this out? That is what I am talking about. I think we can. It’s amazing what can happen when a mass of people band together against something. I believe in that.

Do Something

The film was funded completely by donations, and 100 percent of profits will go back to global field projects and charities involved in fighting slavery.

In the film, Dr. Cornel West described the practice of call and response in music among slaves of nineteenth-century America: By answering the call, he said, and continuing the exchange—by responding—you acknowledged the one who began the call.

“The only property slaves had was what? Their voices in their bodies. They held hands and they raised their voices. And call and response. Call and response. Lifting every voice, because at least at that moment you have a power and a dignity,” West explains in the film. “In the dark, when you couldn’t see each other, all you had were your voices being raised so somebody in the world, now or further down the line, would hear your voice and recognize you are human.You have a right to be treated a certain kind of way and you are worthy of attention. The worst thing for all of us as human beings to feel is insignificant. Then we experience extinction.”

“Humankind cannot bear very much reality,” said West, quoting T. S. Eliot. Facing this awful reality—hearing that call by the oppressed—viewers of this film cannot help but respond.

Catherina L. Hurlburt is a freelance writer/editor living in northern Virginia. You can visit her blog at http://defying-expectations.blogspot.com/. Learn more at www.callandresponse.com and get involved in the movement at www.betheresponse.com.



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