For the first time in its three year history, I went to the Broken Silence talent contest on Saturday.
And for those who don’t know, I’ll give you the basics:
Broken Silence is a group formed by Sickle Cell Sufferers (which includes my younger brother), who aim to raise awareness of Sickle Cell and its effects on sufferers. They formed in memory of Leona Dehaney, who died very young as a result of the illness. You can join their Facebook group, or even their MySpace group, to find out more about what they do.
Sickle Cell is an inherited disease (you can’t catch it from someone) that is common among black people, but has been known to be inherited from other ethnicities. There is no known cure for it at the moment.
Anyhow, Broken Silence hosts an annual talent content to raise awareness of Sickle Cell, which this year was held at Brent Town Hall.
The talent content, just as importantly, also serves as a display of raw talent and dedication in London. There were 16 acts this year, all being solo singers, group singers and dance acts.
If you weren’t at the event, I can assure you that the quality of the performers was very high. The technical problems with the microphones and the many delays took away from those a little, but I wouldn’t have wanted to be in the judges’ shoes.
Most memorable for me were the following acts:
- a dance troupe called Status – winners of the dance category – where the finale of their routine involved one of the dancers performing a mind-blowing, gravity-defying somersault. I had to do a double-take on that!
- an eight year old girl – I can’t remember her name right now – who got up on stage on her own and performed Good Morning Baltimore from Hairspray. She got an honourable mention from the judges.
- a very brave girl who performed an extremely impressive, vocally powerful version of Whitney Houston’s One Moment In Time: itself a very powerful song.
At the beginning people were talking amongst themselves about her dress – which I thought was disrespectful – and I don’t think anyone expected her to take home the under-15s prize. Yes, even more mind-blowing than her performance – and I’ll admit, she was hot too – was the fact she was only 13! - another dance troupe, this time with kids under 15. They were dressed as characters from The Wizard of Oz, and – unlike the other dance troupes – were dancing to many different genres of music. You should have seen them with the dancehall music!
- yet one more dance troupe, who paid homage to Michael Jackson’s legacy. They were all dressed like the background men in the club from Smooth Criminal, though for some odd reason they had a ballet dancer at the beginning.
Come to think of it, I found it a bit odd that there was only one prize for the under-15s.
But anyway, while I was watching the show, I began thinking about my own talent. Here were all these people, all under 25, and they were clearly doing things that they were good at and they loved. They were getting recognition for all the hard work and dedication they put in, and they all have a bright future ahead of them.
And then there’s me: 26 years old, in a job I dislike, with very few real friends to my name – not even one relationship to my name – and virtually in the same position as I was three or four years ago. It made me think about where all that time has gone, and where it all went wrong.
My brother pointed out that many of these talented people came from east and south London: areas that allegedly have more opportunities for young people to get involved in these kinds of activities.
I’m convinced he’s right: I haven’t seen very many initiatives in north west London at all for our youth. Even worse, by the time something does surface, it would be too late for most of them. People have a weird habit of setting the upper age limit too low.
It got me thinking about wanting to start some kind of scheme, hopefully with the help of the council but on my own if necessary. Not only would I help people who want to do something with their lives, but I’d also bring art into the foreground. After all, not everybody is necessarily into music, singing or dance.
Whatever you think of me as a person, I have always been about being part of the solution. I want to do something worthwhile to help people; that’s why I’m very vocal (online at least) about things like depression and how people treat each other. That’s why, for the first time, I chose to support Broken Silence.
What are you doing to make a difference?
Tags: broken silence, contest, difference, solution, support, talent