Republish this content

<h1>Where Communal Art Is Resistance</h1>

<p>For <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2815939/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">millennia</a>, Indigenous cultures have prioritized joy-based artistic practices—and science is finally catching up. Studies now show that <a href="https://www.apa.org/monitor/2014/06/arts-creativity" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">art and joy</a> go hand in hand; creative expression passed down from generation to generation in forms of dance, songs, stories, poems, and visual arts reinforces collective joy, cohesion, and well-being for the practitioners. Art is so deeply woven into humanity that it is difficult to find any <a href="https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2019/04/harvard-researcher-on-psychology-of-art/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">culture</a> devoid of art form. So what happens when people are denied artistic expression?</p>



<p>I have a unique perspective on the subject: I was 6 when Islamic fundamentalists <a href="https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/ayatollah-khomeini-returns-to-iran" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">took over Iran </a>and started a war on joy. I learned quickly that oppression often manifests through the policing of the arts. The morality police cracked down on most types of music, dancing, and even playing. Our teen neighbor’s birthday party was <a href="https://slate.com/technology/2021/07/dance-mental-health-healing-refugees.html" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">raided by the morality police</a> who pointed AK-47s at us. Half of my sister’s high school senior class was imprisoned. Without warning, one of her friends was executed.</p>



<p>At the same time, we found ourselves embroiled in a bloody war with Iraq, and daily funerals became routine. There was little to be joyful about, but my family and friends still took dangerous risks to nourish our souls. We intuitively knew playing <a href="https://academic.oup.com/mtp/article-abstract/17/2/92/1079067" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">music</a>, singing, and dancing served as powerful coping mechanisms to get us through the devastation of war and theocratic oppression. We broke the law even though we knew we could lose our freedom or even our lives.</p>



<p>More than four decades later, Iranians are still engaging in collective joy as an act of <a href="https://ca.news.yahoo.com/70-old-iranian-mans-dance-183600543.html?guccounter=1&amp;guce_referrer=aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuZ29vZ2xlLmNvbS8&amp;guce_referrer_sig=AQAAAKMialLm0ZvGV0YNNAViSollgHR6TP_TLW9vF4BGeygYH42GAHU0LSmmK17Di2xBoBamUUWNG28vILbV7Bhhpxjh-TK27yc6-d_7qLr3k6yRJU_eBBdxExSH_RMfa0X7pGnQvk83b3wIOqtSeBJL28JF_6taVxGOOnVbKQZzb5Cj" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">civil disobedience</a>, often with dire consequences. Now as a <a href="https://rumiwithaview.com/dancing-with-refugees/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">musical ambassador of peace</a> (MAP) in the United States, I bring music and dance to refugees as a form of communal healing. When I started dancing with refugees in Tijuana, Mexico, in 2018, some activists dismissed the program as frivolous and even wasteful. They argued that refugees needed legal and medical help and permanent housing, not art.</p>



<p>While those are real needs that must be addressed, the shelter directors asked us to continue the program even if we couldn’t provide a monetary donation. The directors told us that the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2WCm9qNlPBc" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">positive effects</a> of our sessions, including increased collaboration, lasted several days. Participants reported feeling more at ease and less anxious or depressed, with even headaches disappearing.</p>



<p>During the pandemic lockdown, asylum seekers stranded in Mexico insisted on continuing the program, leading us to transfer our dancing to Zoom sessions.</p>



<p>Around the same time, essential workers and activists dealing with <a href="https://www.verywellmind.com/vicarious-trauma-the-cost-of-care-and-compassion-7377234" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">vicarious trauma</a> began reaching out to us to organize similar programs. Having witnessed countless instances of transformation in these sessions, I’ve grown increasingly curious about the link between joy and <a href="https://www.artsandmindlab.org/frequently-asked-questions/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">neuroaesthetics</a>, an interdisciplinary field of research that explores how aesthetic experiences and the arts affect the body, brain, and behavior.</p>



<p>Susan Magsamen, the founder of the International Arts + Mind Lab at Johns Hopkins University and the co-author of <a href="https://www.yourbrainonart.com/your-brain-on-art-book" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener"><em>Your Brain on Art</em></a>, confirms that there is an inherent human need for joy “through neuroaesthetic experiences.” Activities that bring us joy stimulate the release of dopamine in the brain, which contributes to mood regulation, learning, and memory enhancement. “Researchers are confirming that the body naturally leans toward health and it is in play, music, dance, and visual arts that our bodies respond, find nourishment and healing,” she says.</p>



<p>Given that the nervous system acts as a homing device for neuroaesthetic experiences that stabilize, nourish, and fortify us, it is unsurprising that even in the most dangerous parts of the world, people engage in communal arts. Here are a few examples of such resilience and resistance in the most perilous conditions.</p>



<h2><strong>Art With Asylum-Seekers in Tijuana</strong></h2>



<p>Currently, the U.S. has more than <a href="https://www.rescue.org/article/what-happens-once-asylum-seekers-arrive-us#:~:text=There%20are%20currently%20more%20than,of%20up%20to%20seven%20years" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">2 million pending asylum cases</a> with unprecedented waiting periods of up to seven years. The trauma of experiencing violence, fleeing an unsafe home, undergoing a grueling journey, and then facing the uncertainty of the asylum process takes a heavy toll on <a href="https://documentedny.com/2023/01/11/the-unspoken-toll-migration-has-on-mental-health/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">the mental health of migrants</a>, many of whom are children.&nbsp;</p>



<p>Ada, the director of a migrant shelter in Tijuana, who is using a pseudonym to protect her identity, believes that collective joy expressed through the arts provides a sanctuary for healing. Migrants themselves view this as an act of resistance in the face of unjust and often draconian policies that prevent them from seeking refuge. “That’s why we adopted the concept of joyful resistance or in Spanish, <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/09670106241230750" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener"><em>resiste gozando</em></a>,” Ada says. The practice allows migrants, whose bodies are constantly policed, to reclaim some of their <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5002400/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">agency</a>.</p>



<p>Ada and her group also noticed early on that the media doesn’t include migrant voices. “Most of the time when there is talk of immigration, you only hear experts, authorities, and organizations,” Ada adds. By engaging in music, art, and mural making, migrants can raise their own voices without compromising their identity. In this way, resiste gozando has become a powerful vehicle for amplifying migrant voices.</p>



<h2><strong>Dancing With Freed Congolese Child Soldiers in Uganda</strong></h2>



<p>In <a href="https://press.un.org/en/2024/ga12601.doc.htm" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Congo</a>, where Congolese Tutsi have been systematically massacred and driven from their ancestral lands for nearly 30 years, my MAP colleague, <a href="https://musicalambassadorsofpeace.org/ambassadors/#Abaho-Gift-Conrad" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Abaho Gift Conrad</a>, dances with traumatized kids in three settlements catering to hundreds of thousands of refugees in western Uganda.</p>



<p>When he was 18 months old, Conrad’s entire family was murdered during the Rwandan genocide; he was the only survivor. His adoptive mother found him hidden in a sorghum garden and brought him to Uganda. “I joined MAP because I saw the impact music and dance had on my own healing journey,” he says.</p>



<p>The age range of the child soldiers, the majority being girls, spans from 7 to 14 years old. Most children were kidnapped by various factions of Congolese rebels and endured horrifying experiences, including being trained to become killers themselves. The children were ultimately rescued by joint forces beginning in 2018 and brought to refugee settlements, where Conrad’s team is providing activities for trauma healing.&nbsp;</p>



<p>“We play music, move our bodies, and create together,” Conrad adds. He finds that the traditional <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncMY4Kuqqtk" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">intore</a> </em>popular in central Africa connects the children to their roots and makes healing war wounds more accessible. “It’s amazing to see the smiles and laughter return to their faces as they begin to heal.”</p>



<h2><strong>Singing and Dancing With Kids in Gaza</strong></h2>



<p>Even before Oct. 7, 2023, many Palestinians experienced <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2024/apr/14/mental-health-palestine-children" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">chronic traumatic stress disorder</a>. Instead of <a href="https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/post-traumatic-stress-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-20355967" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">post-traumatic stress disorder</a>, where the mind is trapped in a loop of a traumatic experience, there is no end to the trauma they are experiencing every single day. The situation is far worse now, especially for the more than 600,000 children who are enduring starvation, <a href="https://www.unicefusa.org/stories/nowhere-gaza-safe-children#:~:text=More%20than%20200%20days%20of,wounded%3B%20thousands%20more%20are%20missing." target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">physical wounds</a>, constant displacement, and loss of loved ones.</p>



<p>My MAP colleague, <a href="https://musicalambassadorsofpeace.org/projects/#palestine" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Mahmoud Abushawish</a>, recognized the urgent need to tend to children’s mental health and was set to resume the singing program a few weeks after October 7. Before he could begin, he was <a href="https://ourgaza.com/martyrs/mahmoud-anwar-abu-shawish/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">killed</a> in an Israeli airstrike.</p>



<p>During months of incessant bombing and slaughter, another one of my colleagues, <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-rahaf-her-family-get-out-of-gaza" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Rahaf Shamaly</a>, sang indigenous Palestinian songs with displaced children in different parts of Gaza. Those children told Shamaly they were afraid of being bombed and becoming martyrs. Singing together allowed them to experience grounding, joy, and respite from the constant horror.&nbsp;</p>



<p>With the help of donors, MAP evacuated Shamaly in April, but her entire family is still suffering in Gaza. “It’s really a genocide,” she says. “The Israeli army bombed everything. Gaza is destroyed. Our life [is] destroyed,” she adds. After leaving Palestine, Shamaly immediately returned to music to help her with the trauma she experienced and to use her voice to bring attention to the plight of Palestinians. Her music was live streamed at <a href="https://www.desertsun.com/story/life/entertainment/music/coachella/2024/04/13/coachella-2024-saint-levant-embodies-his-song-from-gaza-with-love/73318454007/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Coachella</a> this past April.</p>



<p>At the time of this writing Bashar Al-Bilbisi, a 23-year-old pharmacist and the director of the Al-Fursan Arts Ensemble still teaches <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/C7l2tmvorpH/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener"><em>dabke</em></a>, an Indigenous Palestinian dance, to children in Gaza. He, and the children he dances with, were displaced multiple times and are still on the move to evade Israeli airstrikes. “We dance together to preserve our heritage and also to be a means of discharging negative energy in all areas of Gaza, despite all the difficulties we are exposed to due to the war,” he says.</p>



<h2>Communal Culture for Collective Healing</h2>



<p>Joy and art are transcendent and essential to human <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC7075503/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">survival</a>. “We often say that the arts create culture, culture creates community, and community creates humanity,” says Magsamen.</p>



<p>Refugees, the oppressed, and the dispossessed carry their community, culture, and humanity in their blood through generations-old songs, poetry, and dances that no assailant can take away from them. “These aspects of their culture are ingrained in them, and they need nothing more than their voices and their bodies to access the foundational aspects of their communities,” adds Magsamen.</p>



<p>Many populations have and are currently experiencing <a href="https://www.apa.org/about/governance/president/grief-toolkit/collective-trauma.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">collective trauma</a>. Communal art, then, fosters joy, serving as a primer to connect to one’s self to one’s roots, and to others. It also provides a supportive environment to invite and process more difficult emotions. While addressing the root causes of individual suffering from various angles is essential, now is the perfect time to embark on the journey of <a href="https://scholar.google.com/scholar_url?url=https://researchspace.auckland.ac.nz/bitstream/handle/2292/48472/Rakena18_2.pdf%3Fsequence%3D8%26isAllowed%3Dy&amp;hl=en&amp;sa=X&amp;ei=ZJRoZs6wDryVy9YPudyV8A4&amp;scisig=AFWwaeaa2-HKO6m1sJZJ-fQT4Oya&amp;oi=scholarr" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">collective healing</a> through cultivating joyful communal practices, nurturing healthier individuals, and fostering a more robust society.</p>

<p>This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.yesmagazine.org">Yes! Magazine</a> at <a href="https://www.yesmagazine.org/health-happiness/2024/07/17/art-music-dance-tijuana-gaza-uganda">https://www.yesmagazine.org/health-happiness/2024/07/17/art-music-dance-tijuana-gaza-uganda</a>.</p><link href="https://www.yesmagazine.org/health-happiness/2024/07/17/art-music-dance-tijuana-gaza-uganda" rel="canonical"/><p>Yes! Magazine is a nonprofit, independent media organization dedicated to telling stories of ... . Learn more at <a href="https://www.yesmagazine.org">Yes! Magazine</a></p><img id="republication-tracker-tool-source" src="https://www.yesmagazine.org/?republication-pixel=true&post=119903&ga4=G-74QJNNY44Z" style="width:1px;height:1px;">

Where Communal Art Is Resistance

For millennia, Indigenous cultures have prioritized joy-based artistic practices—and science is finally catching up. Studies now show that art and joy go hand in hand; creative expression passed down from generation to generation in forms of dance, songs, stories, poems, and visual arts reinforces collective joy, cohesion, and well-being for the practitioners. Art is so deeply woven into humanity that it is difficult to find any culture devoid of art form. So what happens when people are denied artistic expression?

I have a unique perspective on the subject: I was 6 when Islamic fundamentalists took over Iran and started a war on joy. I learned quickly that oppression often manifests through the policing of the arts. The morality police cracked down on most types of music, dancing, and even playing. Our teen neighbor’s birthday party was raided by the morality police who pointed AK-47s at us. Half of my sister’s high school senior class was imprisoned. Without warning, one of her friends was executed.

At the same time, we found ourselves embroiled in a bloody war with Iraq, and daily funerals became routine. There was little to be joyful about, but my family and friends still took dangerous risks to nourish our souls. We intuitively knew playing music, singing, and dancing served as powerful coping mechanisms to get us through the devastation of war and theocratic oppression. We broke the law even though we knew we could lose our freedom or even our lives.

More than four decades later, Iranians are still engaging in collective joy as an act of civil disobedience, often with dire consequences. Now as a musical ambassador of peace (MAP) in the United States, I bring music and dance to refugees as a form of communal healing. When I started dancing with refugees in Tijuana, Mexico, in 2018, some activists dismissed the program as frivolous and even wasteful. They argued that refugees needed legal and medical help and permanent housing, not art.

While those are real needs that must be addressed, the shelter directors asked us to continue the program even if we couldn’t provide a monetary donation. The directors told us that the positive effects of our sessions, including increased collaboration, lasted several days. Participants reported feeling more at ease and less anxious or depressed, with even headaches disappearing.

During the pandemic lockdown, asylum seekers stranded in Mexico insisted on continuing the program, leading us to transfer our dancing to Zoom sessions.

Around the same time, essential workers and activists dealing with vicarious trauma began reaching out to us to organize similar programs. Having witnessed countless instances of transformation in these sessions, I’ve grown increasingly curious about the link between joy and neuroaesthetics, an interdisciplinary field of research that explores how aesthetic experiences and the arts affect the body, brain, and behavior.

Susan Magsamen, the founder of the International Arts + Mind Lab at Johns Hopkins University and the co-author of Your Brain on Art, confirms that there is an inherent human need for joy “through neuroaesthetic experiences.” Activities that bring us joy stimulate the release of dopamine in the brain, which contributes to mood regulation, learning, and memory enhancement. “Researchers are confirming that the body naturally leans toward health and it is in play, music, dance, and visual arts that our bodies respond, find nourishment and healing,” she says.

Given that the nervous system acts as a homing device for neuroaesthetic experiences that stabilize, nourish, and fortify us, it is unsurprising that even in the most dangerous parts of the world, people engage in communal arts. Here are a few examples of such resilience and resistance in the most perilous conditions.

Art With Asylum-Seekers in Tijuana

Currently, the U.S. has more than 2 million pending asylum cases with unprecedented waiting periods of up to seven years. The trauma of experiencing violence, fleeing an unsafe home, undergoing a grueling journey, and then facing the uncertainty of the asylum process takes a heavy toll on the mental health of migrants, many of whom are children.

Ada, the director of a migrant shelter in Tijuana, who is using a pseudonym to protect her identity, believes that collective joy expressed through the arts provides a sanctuary for healing. Migrants themselves view this as an act of resistance in the face of unjust and often draconian policies that prevent them from seeking refuge. “That’s why we adopted the concept of joyful resistance or in Spanish, resiste gozando,” Ada says. The practice allows migrants, whose bodies are constantly policed, to reclaim some of their agency.

Ada and her group also noticed early on that the media doesn’t include migrant voices. “Most of the time when there is talk of immigration, you only hear experts, authorities, and organizations,” Ada adds. By engaging in music, art, and mural making, migrants can raise their own voices without compromising their identity. In this way, resiste gozando has become a powerful vehicle for amplifying migrant voices.

Dancing With Freed Congolese Child Soldiers in Uganda

In Congo, where Congolese Tutsi have been systematically massacred and driven from their ancestral lands for nearly 30 years, my MAP colleague, Abaho Gift Conrad, dances with traumatized kids in three settlements catering to hundreds of thousands of refugees in western Uganda.

When he was 18 months old, Conrad’s entire family was murdered during the Rwandan genocide; he was the only survivor. His adoptive mother found him hidden in a sorghum garden and brought him to Uganda. “I joined MAP because I saw the impact music and dance had on my own healing journey,” he says.

The age range of the child soldiers, the majority being girls, spans from 7 to 14 years old. Most children were kidnapped by various factions of Congolese rebels and endured horrifying experiences, including being trained to become killers themselves. The children were ultimately rescued by joint forces beginning in 2018 and brought to refugee settlements, where Conrad’s team is providing activities for trauma healing.

“We play music, move our bodies, and create together,” Conrad adds. He finds that the traditional intore popular in central Africa connects the children to their roots and makes healing war wounds more accessible. “It’s amazing to see the smiles and laughter return to their faces as they begin to heal.”

Singing and Dancing With Kids in Gaza

Even before Oct. 7, 2023, many Palestinians experienced chronic traumatic stress disorder. Instead of post-traumatic stress disorder, where the mind is trapped in a loop of a traumatic experience, there is no end to the trauma they are experiencing every single day. The situation is far worse now, especially for the more than 600,000 children who are enduring starvation, physical wounds, constant displacement, and loss of loved ones.

My MAP colleague, Mahmoud Abushawish, recognized the urgent need to tend to children’s mental health and was set to resume the singing program a few weeks after October 7. Before he could begin, he was killed in an Israeli airstrike.

During months of incessant bombing and slaughter, another one of my colleagues, Rahaf Shamaly, sang indigenous Palestinian songs with displaced children in different parts of Gaza. Those children told Shamaly they were afraid of being bombed and becoming martyrs. Singing together allowed them to experience grounding, joy, and respite from the constant horror.

With the help of donors, MAP evacuated Shamaly in April, but her entire family is still suffering in Gaza. “It’s really a genocide,” she says. “The Israeli army bombed everything. Gaza is destroyed. Our life [is] destroyed,” she adds. After leaving Palestine, Shamaly immediately returned to music to help her with the trauma she experienced and to use her voice to bring attention to the plight of Palestinians. Her music was live streamed at Coachella this past April.

At the time of this writing Bashar Al-Bilbisi, a 23-year-old pharmacist and the director of the Al-Fursan Arts Ensemble still teaches dabke, an Indigenous Palestinian dance, to children in Gaza. He, and the children he dances with, were displaced multiple times and are still on the move to evade Israeli airstrikes. “We dance together to preserve our heritage and also to be a means of discharging negative energy in all areas of Gaza, despite all the difficulties we are exposed to due to the war,” he says.

Communal Culture for Collective Healing

Joy and art are transcendent and essential to human survival. “We often say that the arts create culture, culture creates community, and community creates humanity,” says Magsamen.

Refugees, the oppressed, and the dispossessed carry their community, culture, and humanity in their blood through generations-old songs, poetry, and dances that no assailant can take away from them. “These aspects of their culture are ingrained in them, and they need nothing more than their voices and their bodies to access the foundational aspects of their communities,” adds Magsamen.

Many populations have and are currently experiencing collective trauma. Communal art, then, fosters joy, serving as a primer to connect to one’s self to one’s roots, and to others. It also provides a supportive environment to invite and process more difficult emotions. While addressing the root causes of individual suffering from various angles is essential, now is the perfect time to embark on the journey of collective healing through cultivating joyful communal practices, nurturing healthier individuals, and fostering a more robust society.

Republish this content

Inspiration in Your Inbox.