June is Caribbean American Heritage Month. My great-great grandfather was from Puerto Rico and my great-great-great grandmother was from Cuba. But that isn’t something I knew growing up. I didn’t even know their names- or their posterity- my grandmother’s- name. I finally learned about her and met her years later. She was adopted by a white, LDS family and raised in their home. I wonder if they ever celebrated her heritage. I wonder if her mother, who was born in Hawaii in 1915 and lived in California in the 1930s, connected with her roots or did she feel the pull to assimilate?

Dr Claire Nelson, founder of the Institute of Caribbean Studies, also led the efforts to designate Caribbean American Heritage Month an official celebration. It is a time when we can honor their rich cultures and their contributions and achievements. As with other national heritage months, I also want to take time to reflect on the ways Caribbean culture has been suppressed due to colonization and white supremacy. 

I have never traveled to the Caribbean, but I imagine if I did, I could go to any LDS church and have a pretty familiar experience. This was always presented as such a positive thing as people returned from vacations and business trips around the world and shared their travels during testimony meeting. But what is the shadow side of familiarity? And who is left out when dominant LDS culture is not just revered but codified?

Several years ago our LDS choir sang “O Sifuni Mungu,” a rendition of All Creatures of Our God and King which includes lyrics in Swahili and is accompanied by percussion instruments. It was a beautiful number and a piece that has stayed with me over time. We sang it during an interfaith Thanksgiving fireside, but were not allowed to sing it during Sacrament meeting. We had to wait for the meeting to end before we could share it with our ward. 

My mission companion, an African-American sister who loved gospel music, was only allowed to listen to her favorite songs on p-day. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir was the only officially approved music during the week. 

In May of 2020 the church announced 22 official images of Christ allowed to be hung in church foyers. The official artworks are all by white artists and depict the Savior as white. There are few people of color and few women. Michelle Franzoni Thorley, a Mexican-American artist, talks about the importance of diverse art in the church,

“I want children that look like me or have had experiences like me, to grow up seeing themselves in the art of the church. Media and the arts have been influencing social realities for centuries; let us make art that reflects the future inclusion we want to see.”

What is lost when we restrict the art and music allowed in LDS buildings and services? What is hidden when belonging comes with the pricetag of assimilation? 

The Caribbean has a diverse tapestry of religious traditions. In his article on religions in the Caribbean, Kevon Wilson explains,

“An interesting fact about religion in the Caribbean is the existence of fusion or hybrid faiths that cannot be found anywhere else in the world. Throughout the course of Caribbean history, many Afro-Caribbean people have constructed new religious traditions. These fusions attempt to find balance as well to maintain a sense of identity. As such, the more traditional and conservative Christian theology is often fused (sometimes as a cover) with their ancestral African practices. This religious fusion helped ease African and Indian assimilation into mainstream society and gain acceptance from European colonizers.”

I hope this June we can celebrate not just the food and dress of Caribbean Americans, but also the ways they have survived and thrived through a violent history.