Joy Oladokun is no stranger to bravery. The singer-songwriterās focus throughout much of her tracklist has spanned personal processes ranging from spirituality to queerness. Her mom has been on the front lines of COVID as a nurse practitioner who loves her job very much. And once again turning to her gift of song, Joy is on the battlefield of deeply rooted trauma, reckoning with her own pain in hopes that the rest of the world can resonate, and find respite, if even for a moment.
Joy’s single āWho Do I Turn To,ā a hauntingly beautiful ballad, asks the most poignant question of this time, the one we are all marching, petitioning, and demanding answers to. We know who we canāt turn to, but the hopefulness of building anew, finding radical approaches to leadership, and being of service to others and our communities are the threads keeping us connected.
I could go on, but this movement is about listening. Not to me, but to black voices. Below are the song lyrics. Read them, then read them again. Press play, then keep reading to learn a little more than you may already have known about the force behind the willowy voice that is pure Joy.
iām scared of getting pulled over cuz of someone else I look likeĀ Ā
iām scared of raising my voiceĀ
cuz everyone will think that iām gonna fight
Ā
this world was made for themĀ
this world was made for meĀ
how am I supposed to existĀ
when a friend is an enemyĀ
Ā
if I canāt save myselfĀ
if itās all black and white
if i canāt call for helpĀ
in the middle of the nightĀ
if I canāt turn to godĀ
if I canāt turn to you
who do I turn to
who do I turn toĀ
Ā
iām tired of watching my kind be accused when theyāre young and theyāre innocentĀ
iām tired of turning on the news and wondering why it happened againĀ
Ā
no oneās putting out the fire
they only fan the flame
tell me whoās gonna
make it right when the good ones are to blame
Ā
if I canāt save myselfĀ
if itās all black and white
if i canāt call for helpĀ
in the middle of the nightĀ
if I canāt turn to godĀ
if I canāt turn to you
who do I turn to
who do I turn toĀ
Ā
whoās gonna watch over me?
who do i turn to?
Thank you for writing what you write, singing what you sing and sharing what you share. This is about raising BIPOC voices ā this is a space for us to hear your experienceā¦
I feel like itās such a weird time to be alive. Weāre in the middle of a pandemic, in a country that isnāt taking it seriously, and then weāre in the midst of protesting for our literal lives and safety. And we still have to do our jobs and be normal, be good partners, daughters, brothers, people. Iāve been feeling the weight of all of that ā I feel everything that is going on. Most days I feel a range of anger to disbelief to frustration to joy to hope, back to fear and anger again. But Iām doing well because Iāve done the work of knowing what it takes to take care of myself in this world, and in this climate right now.
As a listener, my experience is you evoke a deep connectedness to issues or situations ā in other words, you are a true singer-songwriter. At what point in your life did you know this was your path?Ā Ā
I still have days that I doubt it and joke with my team all the time about retiring. Everything in me that is drawn to music comes from this really quiet kid growing up in Arizona that needed a way to express her big feelings. This may sound awful, but itās purely selfish. Songwriting helps me make sense of the world and lets me put words to things that Iām not able to in normal conversation. Itās the best way I can serve the world as a human. If I can turn these things into positive moments of music that can help more people heal and process and change for the better, thatās all I want to do with my life forever.
Who, or what, are you turning to in this moment?Ā
I rely so much on my family. I came out (to my parents) a few years ago, and my dad is still having a tough time with it. But once the pandemic hit, all of the awkwardness melted away and the most important thing became, how do we stay close and connected to each other? My sister FaceTimes me like three times a day. Connecting with people who look like me and resonate with my experience of being black in America. And also people who love me and who have always been there for me and support me.
I live in Nashville, which is predominately white, and I had no idea once the protests started happening how the city would react. Itās pretty liberal, but weāre still in the South. I have a neighbor two doors down who drives his confederate tractor up and down our street every morning. To see the way this community has surrounded black people and has said, ‘Weāre going to listen and march and fight and hold a town hall meeting until 4am so everyone can voice budget concerns…’
When I was deciding which organization I was going to give my profits from this song to, I thought about my city, and the kids I see on the street who look like me and are queer like me. So I found a shelter called Launch Pad that helps LGBTQ youth. I think this all comes down to the local communities and wanting to see the space around you thrive. The greatest downfall of America has been overreach ā people wanting more power and more money and it has robbed people who have done hard, faithful work of a basic livelihood. I hope more people start to think this way ā like what can I do close to me to fight against these things and to help people?
You wrote, recorded, mixed, mastered and released this song in literally one week?Ā
I was actually very reluctant to put this song out. As a person I always err on the side of caution when it comes to what could possibly be misinterpreted and I didnāt want to put a song out and have it feel like I was capitalizing on the moment. I wrote it with a dear friend, Natalie Hemby (Grammy award winner and member of the Highwomen), and she is a white woman and I didnāt know how that would be perceived. I had all these things spinning in my head. Itās just my feelings. My mixer and engineer donated their services. It came together as a beautiful team effort. Iām super grateful that it exists.
But it all comes back to my initial why ā and people that I love reminded me this song helped me process this, and that it can help other people. I want people who have to watch black bodies over and over again be disrespected, misrepresented and murderedĀ ā I want to give them three minutes of rest. Three minutes of, I know what it feels like too.
Your album comes out next month, congratulations! What can you share about the release? Any surprises?
I am so excited to finally be releasing music! It feels like a long time coming. Iām trying a lot of new things ā thereās so many styles of music that I love. I grew up listening to and making folk music; I love the lyricism and storytelling of hip hop, the angst of rock, the power and healing of gospel. As a producer and a songwriter Iām finding my footing and combining all those things into something that feels unique to me ā and is a really good portrait of what Iāve been through the past few years and what Iāve wrestled with.
As far as surprisesā¦ I think Iām going to drop an Election Day album. Iāve been writing some things that feel very true to the state of the country.
How do you think the music industry can step up to support black artists right now?
Give money. The most obvious thing to do in an industry that has profited off of black culture and music for years: take what weāve earned and invest it back into our communities. Listen to black artists and songwriters more. If I had a dollar for every subtle way that someone tried to undercut my power or my value just this week, Iād be able to pay rent for the rest of the year. I feel like it takes people longer to take black artists seriously and also to honor the accomplishments of black songwriters in the same way they do white ones.
Who do you have on repeat?Ā Ā
So much Prince. Iāve always been a fan of Prince. For some reason, his voice has been really essential to me during these times. I started reading his book The Beautiful Ones ā Iāve just been immersed in his ideas about blackness and black artists, but also hope and not taking yourself too seriously. He just had all these amazing ideas and Iām basking in how brilliant he was.
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photos / Shannon Beveridge
story/ Eve Simonsen