That was a great conversation you had with the Black woman who had intense mixed feelings about white women playing the African drum. I don't know if I could have pulled that off. I have a hard time talking sometimes. I probably would have just handed over the drum and encouraged her to have a go at it.

I appear to be a white woman who plays djembe.

Actually I'm a white-passing Louisiana Creole man-woman who plays djembe.

One thing I've finally figured out about humans -- I think I was around 45 when it hit me -- humans are visual animals. We judge by what we see. (Once I figured that out my life got a bit smoother. Most people figure that out when they're in a single digit age. But I digress.)

And what I look like is a white woman who plays djembe. A weird old woman who dresses funny, walks funny, rocks facial hair, shows up alone, and rarely speaks.

I learned from a master drummer in New Orleans, a Black man by the name of Luther Grey. He was criticised for offering free drum lessons to anyone who showed up in the park for his lessons on Saturday mornings. People said, women aren't supposed to play the djembe, that's a man's instrument. And white people playing African drums is just wrong.

He'd reply, Drumming is prayer and we need all the prayers we can get.

When I drum, I feel the ancestors near. My ancestors, my neighbor's ancestors, nearby ancestors, ancestors across the waters, ancestors beneath the waters, recent ancestors, ancient ancestors -- all of them. They step in, wear me like a shirt, and drum. I step aside and let them. They enjoy it. This is my service. Drumming is prayer.

Maybe I get away with it because I'm weird. Unlike mainstream white society, many traditional peoples respect weird.

And I admit, I cringe a bit when I see rich white women come to the drum circle and don't seem to know what they're doing and don't seem to care. But who am I to judge? Drumming is prayer.

Just my two bits worth.

Thanks again for writing about this.