Conni McKenzie
Written for Emerging Arts Professionals Cohort XIV, June 2025
Presence as Power:
Reclaiming Art & Space
From the Forbidden Marina Series
Who is Beauty For?
The colonization of beauty in the Western world stems from a historical and ongoing exclusion of Black people from art and natural spaces. The psychological implications of this exclusion have taught our culture that Black people don’t belong in beautiful spaces.
The issue runs so deep that even when efforts are made to make these spaces “accessible,” the problem persists. This is due in part to the presence of anti-Blackness in both white and non-Black POC communities.
As a race, we've internalized messages of unworthiness due to this ongoing colonization.
A clear example is the India Basin Waterfront Park. After over 40 years, the waterfront was reopened to the public. Yet, despite being open for more than six months, the presence of Black and local communities remains minimal. Many residents who live within a mile of the park have never visited.
Even more troubling, plans are underway for a new development near the park that may further alienate and displace local residents, deepening the sense that they do not belong
Beautification often coincides with displacement—not with meaningful community investment.
Why Creative and Spatial Equity Matter
We’ve long understood that access to nature provides tangible physical and psychological benefits, including increased serotonin levels, vitamin D exposure, and reduced stress and anxiety. Getting outdoors also supports healthier lifestyles, promoting people to incorporate more movement, fresher food, and deepening breathing patterns in their day-to day-lives.
Creative practice brings similar benefits. Art allows us to expand our worldview, digest the world in a way that feels palatable and empowering, and express our experiences and desires to others.
For marginalized Black residents in Bayview-Hunters Point, these benefits are not just nice-to-haves, but essentials for radicalized justice in San Francisco. They represent the first steps in a powerful internal shift: the realization that our existence and our voices matter, and that we belong in this world simply as we are.
The Power of Culturally Rooted Programming
What do we know about how people begin to feel like they belong? First and foremost, culturally relevant programming is key to welcoming people into unfamiliar spaces.
People generally avoid spaces they perceive as unsafe. But what if the danger isn't the environment itself, but the reception people receive? What if danger looks like a Black mom bringing her kids to a park and facing racism from other visitors? Or teens having the police called on them for playing music at a reasonable time of day?
We rarely examine how the “typical” behavior of regular park-goers threatens the safety of marginalized communities, and often before those communities even get the chance to experience the benefits of public space.
From the Forbidden Marina Series
Exclusion runs deep.
Reparations must run deeper.
Reframing What Belonging Looks Like
Here’s a hard truth: Black people move through the world differently, just like children, neurodivergent people, or elders may move differently than the dominant norm. We must stop acting like Black culture is inherently disruptive or dangerous.
If someone plays music on a sunny afternoon, is that truly more inappropriate than calling the cops on a person causing no harm?
There may be times and places for enforcing social norms, but cultural equity begins by meeting people where they are.
The presence of Black people in natural or cultural spaces may “look and feel different” than what some are used to. That difference is not a threat, but rather part of an important process of building trust.
The Importance of Representation and Imagination
Playing the Long Game for Equity
Fixing systemic racism is not a short-term project. It will take lifetimes, and only after we’ve decided, collectively, that true equity is worth the effort.
One thing I’ve learned is this: preventing further displacement requires both foresight and political engagement.
For marginalized communities, the first step in any justice movement is belonging. Because when we feel we belong, we feel responsible. And that sense of responsibility cannot be faked or forced.
If people don’t believe the city cares for them or that a space was made with them in mind, why should they invest in it? Why would they vote? Join a public committee? Show up?
We need civic engagement from people who believe in the places they inhabit. But first, they must feel like they belong there.
We must belong. We must know our existence matters. We must feel worthy of access to what nourishes us.
That’s the only way forward. That’s what makes an equitable future worth building.
Gatherings that involve leadership or facilitation from local residents are a strong starting point. Any organization and stakeholder of a public space must both fiscally and structurally support and trust local wisdom, allowing the community to shape experiences rooted in their lived realities.
These engagements must also be consistent, not one-off events. People need time to build familiarity with a place and its people before they feel safe attending independently or inviting others.
People need to see themselves reflected in the spaces they enter.
As a Black and Afro-Latinx artist working in the so-called cultural hub that is San Francisco, I rarely see Black artists uplifted unless our work is focused on racial trauma. While it is crucial to have space to speak to those experiences, it’s just as vital to have space to explore everything else.
Afrofuturism invites us to imagine a world beyond racism. Who would we be? How would we feel? What would joy, empowerment, and beauty look like if they weren’t filtered through the lens of survival?
In my new photo series, The Forbidden Marina, I explore how we see the world—as well as how we’ve been excluded from it. Even well-intentioned attempts at inclusion often carry the residue of past harm. This series is a reclamation of the beauty that has always existed before us.
When a community endures so much change in so little time, as Black San Franciscans have within the past century, we begin to forget how deeply joy and inclusion can shape our sense of self and possibility.
Deliberate efforts must be made to restore that sense of possibility.
“Blooming”
Photo by Conni McKenzie (2025)