Why I Modeled my Birthday Party after a 1567 Painting

That’s my band playing “I will survive” to introduce #metoo advocate Rowena Chiu. A video of the song can be found by clicking here. What kind of birthday party centers themes of xenophobia, sexual assault, and the displacement of ethnic groups? I was a bit concerned if this would fly. Thankfully, I received comments like “That was a really cool idea combining a birthday party with a community activism theme.” or “You are such a hub of community and do such a great job bringing people together for a shared purpose,” or “Thank you for sharing your communities with us. You have truly given a voice to those on the edge or who have had to deal with shame & oppression. I love the way you honor them.”

I recently threw a birthday party for my 58th party. A strange year perhaps; it’s not 50, and it’s not 60. But given all the “unplugging” and varying degrees of “cancelling” of groups important to me by the current administration, I felt compelled to bring together communities often “passed over” or marginalized. And also, why not celebrate a 58th birthday? Our current admin’s rhetoric suggests an “ableist” perspective, as if those with accessibility needs are less valuable people…as if to suggest those less typical are less deserving of love, connection, and acceptance. That said, I envisioned using my relational influence to celebrate some of the groups in my life who experience increased marginalization.

One of the highlights for me was receiving a blessing from board member Felicia Larson. I initially planned the party with little thought given to the birthday aspect, perhaps an unintentional nod to the “soul murder” narrative (as author and psychotherapist Sam Louie called it) I grew up with. Felicia noticed this and asked me who is providing the blessing for me (customarily accomplished in such parties by toasts and by singing the requisite Happy Birthday song.) But as a contemplative, as one who loves listening, and as a professional speaker and minister, she offered a blessing well beyond the normal. In the end, I received a very special blessing. See here.

So the party celebrated me along with the voices of communities on the margins: African Americans, at-risk youth, neurodiverse communities, women at the top of their game passed over in our male-dominated society, and more. I had spokespersons speak from a place of joy, yet not ignoring their respective hardships and transitions: displacement of families and communities, assaults and threats, being profiled, and more. If anything, those hellish circumstances seemed to uniquely fuel the celebration. Isn’t it true that the best celebrations come from communities that have gone through trial and tribulation?

This 1567 painting from Pieter Bruegel the Elder called “The Peasant Wedding” depicts the kind of party I envisioned. Perhaps a more modern day depiction comes from the movie “Titanic.” The movie introduced movie-goers to the vibrant life found among the peasants in the lower level of the luxurious ship. This was the place to be, where people were present, in the moment, a place devoid of elitism. I wonder if James Cameron (the director of “The Titanic”) drew from this painting, a scene of present joy, free of elitism, free of capitalist endeavors. Though a “peasant” wedding, the drinks and food seemed plentiful, as if multiplied by the selflessness of hearts.

There were many aspects of my party depicted in this painting. Take the pouring of wine in the foreground on the left. Drinks at my party were provided by a neighbor who runs a non-alcoholic bar around the corner. i invited him to the party, but he told me he’d be busy teaching a mixology class. Still he told me he’ll provide two coolers filled with a variety of drinks, including premium non-alcoholic beverages. Of course, I offered to provide a down payment so that he would not have to front any money. He refused, and insisted on simply providing the coolers. On the day of the party while getting ready to pick up coolers, he texted this image to me; it’s an image of both coolers already delivered to the party site.

Then after his mixology class he dropped by again wtih the intent of refreshing the coolers to make sure everyone had plenty of selection to drink. He provided all this without expecting a dime from me…even though I had reminded him several times to Venmo me. Look up Joshua James here, and if you’re ever in my hood, drop by! Joshua is the modern-day guy refilling the drinks in the painting.

Then there’s the music. I suspect that the musicians in the painting were known, possibly family members, or the folks kitty corner from others. Such was the case at my party. All the musicians either work or live within a 1 mile radius. I literally have run into every member of my band on the streets. But much more than that, I’ve experienced a lot of grace and reciprocity with the band. Collectively, they designed the very community space we met in, both the architecture and the social space. They have served me and my family during some our darkest seasons, gone trick or treating together, hosted several neighborhood spontaneous jam sessions, fixed the truss rod on my bass guitar and more. They’ve all expressed their gratefulness for me putting the band together, even securing the anchor keyboard for the space (which I did with my neighbor and the founder architectural firm whose lobby we used for the party). All of the band members are advocates; they shared their stories and music throughout the evening.

One more nuanced aspect about the music – they were agents of hospitality. They made space for the other musicians in the room, a rotating band if you will. This included Joshua, who brought the drinks. Joshua brought his Hawaiian carved-by-his-dad ukulele. Melanie, who never practiced with the band, played her songs as a “1st take” with us. In the painting (and in the movie Titanic), the music was familiar, and I imagine, part of the story of the people. The music reinforced identity and gave space for expression beyond the words and feast. Such is how I imagined music at my party. And it’s why I made music part of the storyline. I imagined the music strengthening the speaker, and vice versa, and making space for the guests to find their story in the music and speakers. Each of the songs was carefully curated, and collectively chosen. This is what I envisioned in the painting, and this is what I was hoping for with the party.

There are so many facets in the painting that I drew from for the party. I could talk about the food, and how they’re connected to the guests. There were so many other interconnections, many of them stemming from the organic makeup of my different communities. I’m sad that this relational infrastructure is being dismantled by our current administration, down to the arts and music. But these are the connections I aimed to strengthen – joining unfamiliar people together for a shared vision. This is the world we are building. Kingdom Rice cohort and board members and speakers, the very people we center and train, are the leaders who are already taking the vision well beyond me. That’s why I started Kingdom Rice, which I explained to my guests here.

Thank you for reading. I’m curious to know how all the changes are affecting you, and where you are finding joy.