by Patheresa Wells
Recently, I sat down to think about my journey to become an Arts & Culture reporter who often writes about Black art in Seattle. And it made me reflect on the potency that lies in Black art. The power that resides in creation in the face of oppression.
According to U.S. Census data, Black people comprise only 7.4% of King County's demographics, yet this city has many talented Black artists, from painters and poets to photographers and playwrights. We even have Black ballerinas and burlesque shows.
But Black artists face extreme challenges in doing their work, which often combines creativity with social justice. The struggle of Black artists in this city is our failure to support change. To understand the true brilliance that is Black imagination.
Coming out of the COVID-19 pandemic, rent is rising across the city, impacting residential and commercial real estate. Artists and arts organizations have dealt with severe economic distress from the shutdown. According to numbers released by the National Endowment for the Arts, "[b]etween 2019 and 2020, the U.S. arts economy shrank at nearly twice the rate of the economy as a whole." And in Seattle, the Black household median net worth is $23,000 compared with the white household median net worth of $456,000. This means Black artists here face the economic disparities of not only the art industry but also of the racial wealth gap. I spoke with two Black artists born and raised in Seattle who have reinvested in this city's culture yet are having difficulty keeping their doors open.
Teme Wokoma is a performer and dancer who has danced for artists like Macklemore and Lizzo. She is part of the fifth-generation Central District family that created Wa Na Wari and comes from a long legacy of Black culture. Wokoma left the area multiple times to pursue her artistic endeavors in L.A. and Atlanta but moved back home during the pandemic. It was at this time she connected with activist Elijah Lewis during the George Floyd protests. Wokoma and Lewis helped establish King County Equity Now, whose mission, according to its website, is to develop liberated Black communities that own and control the resources and systems that impact Black lives.
"Even outside of our tumultuous traumas in our inner communities, Seattle as a whole is a hard place to survive in, especially as an artist," said Wokoma. After returning to the city that raised her, Wokoma said she wanted to bridge the gap by providing a physical space for Black and Brown artists to share their work, build community, and make a living so the next generation doesn't have to leave to shine.
In November 2021, Lewis and Wokoma established The Sankofa Theater. They rented an already existing theater in the Inscape Arts building, a location that was once an Immigration and Naturalization Services (INS) building built in 1932 during the Chinese Exclusion Act. Wokoma and Lewis went to work immediately to secure a grant and start offering events in the space. At the time, their landlord wanted to wait until they secured the grant to provide a full year's lease, so they were offered a two-month lease.
Flash forward to the summer of 2022: Sankofa secured a grant paid through the summer, yet every time Wokoma and Lewis tried to bring up a longer lease, building manager Mike Donnelly evaded their questions. Wokoma says Donnelly always gave them answers in hallway conversations, never answering on paper, and that it seemed he was eventually hoping to raise rents as the pandemic fallout ran its course.
In an email to the Emerald, Donnelly shared that four other theater groups over the past 10 years have tried to operate in the space, and that all have been unsuccessful. "I would love it if Sankofa could be a sustainable space," said Donnelly, "… and we have offered to forgive close to $30,000 of the back rent. If Sankofa can secure funding from a committed partner we will sign a new lease." Yet, in order for Sankofa to get funding, it must have a lease.
Donnelly originally negotiated a reduced monthly rent for Sankofa, but this past January, raised it back. Tragically, a few months later, cofounder Elijah Lewis was killed. Now, Wokoma is left not only dealing with the grief of that loss but also with the possible destruction of their vision for what this city could offer its young, Black, and talented.
"It's devastating. We don't have safe places anymore; we don't have the havens; we don't have the support in the funding to make sure that each neighborhood has what it takes to thrive," said Wokoma. "It feels like a big 'Get out.' It feels like a big 'We don't want you here if you can't be our keynote speaker and make us look good for diversity.' And it's performative liberalism."
Wokoma isn't the only Black artist in the city struggling to survive high rents. Malcolm Procter, aka Wolf Delux, is a visual artist who mixes hyper-pop with Afrofuturism. He says his art explores patterned line work contrasting with florals, cartoons, and African diasporic figures.
"The wearable paintings I produce are extensions of my energy, transformed into armor of celebration for the people. Fashion is something that, for most people, causes a lot of stress and money. I do what I do in the art world because I believe, most importantly, that art is therapeutic and helps us make it to the next day," said Procter.
After having a shop in the Chinatown-International District for six years, Proctor has been rallying help to stay in his space. He says the effects of the pandemic, the fentanyl crisis, houselessness, and issues affecting the city have impacted Chinatown, so it has been a ghost town for the last two years.
"Almost every other business around me closed during the last two years except for Szechuan Noodle Bowl. I'm still putting my pieces together, but I plan on getting the most positive action out of this space before my lease runs out [in 2026]. It may be private studios. It may turn into a multi-group office space. I'm not exactly sure," said Proctor. He adds that rent in the building has always been high, but he took the space because it has such potential.
Proctor would love to have the community backing to remain open. He says people can support him by visiting the shop or to renting out the space for an event. He says he has never applied for any grants or funding, so he would love to work with anyone who can assist with that.
Black artists in this city are feeling the strain not only because of high rents but also because of a disproportionate economic divide. Both Wokoma and Wolfdelux have watched as Seattle has changed from the city they were born into — the one before the tech boom.
Wokoma says Seattle has a history that includes the legacies of Jimi Hendrix and Quincy Jones and events that celebrate Black Arts, like Garfield High School's Bubblin Brown Sugar competition, yet newcomers are unaware.
"You have no clue what artists are doing. Your young artists are doing. Your Black artists are doing in your city. … Because we are talented. We are worthy. We don't always have to be the underdog. … You can't do tech without art. [And] if Sankofa can't survive here, then it's saying that I can't survive here as an artist," said Wokoma.
Despite the diminishing presence of Black arts spaces in Seattle, there is still an opportunity to make a difference for Sankofa and Wolf Delux, to help secure the legacy of Black art. Wokoma is trying to raise $30,000 to keep Sankofa going. Follow The Sankofa Theater Instagram account for more info on its efforts to remain open.
Wolf Delux's shop is located at 416 8th Ave. S. Check out his wearable artwork on his Instagram account.
Patheresa Wells is a queer poet, writer, and storyteller who lives in SeaTac, Washington. Born to a Black mother and Persian father, her experiences as a multicultural child shaped her desire to advocate for and amplify her community. She is currently pursuing a B.A. in creative writing. Follow her on Twitter @PatheresaWells.
Featured Image: Attendees at the Ethereal Vision Comedy Show held at The Sankofa Theater on April 20, 2023. (Photo: Jordan Somers via Converge Media)
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Before you move on to the next story …
The South Seattle Emerald™ is brought to you by Rainmakers. Rainmakers give recurring gifts at any amount. With around 1,000 Rainmakers, the Emerald™ is truly community-driven local media. Help us keep BIPOC-led media free and accessible.
If just half of our readers signed up to give $6 a month, we wouldn’t have to fundraise for the rest of the year. Small amounts make a difference.
We cannot do this work without you. Become a Rainmaker today!