Sol Salvation is more than a choir. It’s a conduit for Black joy

Several dance circles formed at High Cotton following the choir's call to dance. Namir Fearce, center, stepped into one to commentate on Kenna Cottman, left, and Arame, right, dancing together. 

Photos and story by Azhae’la Hanson, Reporter 

The blues of dusk enter softly into arched church windows and blend into the softness of yellow light that envelops the small choir inside. 

A chorus of voices begins not with music, but with a check-in: “What color are you today?” a voice asks. From there, the release of collective breath follows in a resonant “ahhh,” letting go of the day’s weight and preparing to lift each other and their audience through song. 

And then, voices rise in harmony and carry a melody of memory, of metamorphosis, of medicine. 

Sol Salvation is an all-Black, non-religious choir founded in 2024 and led by interdisciplinary artist, culture worker, and 2025 McKnight Media Arts Grant recipient, Namir Fearce. 

Kamilla Love, sang her original song during the MIA performance. Members of the choir are often established creatives in their own mediums who come together to share their creative spirits through song. 

It rings true for most in the choir that this isn’t your standard ensemble. There are no auditions, no lengthy callbacks. They honor Black soul music, creativity and culture. It’s a place for Black and Indigenous people, regardless of experience, religion, or gender expression, who show up in all their humanity, called to courage, conviction and to love with a “sol” purpose: to sing. 

The members of the choir are healers, seekers and souls in the process of remembering who they are. 

Choir founder Namir Fearce leads choir practice in the Northside Healing Space on 21st and Emerson. Choir members frequently recall Namir’s affirmation that the sun shines on everyone.

“Some are grounded, some are healing, some are looking for community,” said choir member Mariama Gillespie. “We’re healing trauma. We’re healing the feeling of not being seen in this world.” 

And above all, they are offering love. 

Since their debut in 2024, the choir has performed three times. Their first show, held on the Winter Solstice, focused on planting seeds of hope in the coldest season. A spring concert celebrated sunshine and featured a tribute to Roy Ayers. The most recent performance in June centered on love and the soul. 

Amina Jaafaru, right, has a crucial role in the choir, implementing harmonies and bringing structure to the choir. She came from the Southside, where she says it was hard to find spaces for Black people. When she saw the opportunity to make an impact in a Black space, she leaned into it. She and Namir Fearce grabbed hands and descended the stairs after a packed performance at MIA in the spring. 

The factor that remains is intention: the space created for choir and community alike to be a sanctuary, a platform, and a portal where music becomes medicine and where grief, joy, and resistance can all be sung in the sun. 

“Humans, in a time of incredible hardship, choose to be together and sing and cry and laugh,” said choir member Calvin Stalvig, known as “Boy Boy.” “We need to sing. We need to show up, get other people singing, connecting and feeling,” they continued. “With the state of the world right now, letting the songs vibrate the pain out of the body has been really cathartic.” 

Brandon Mensah, left, Philli Irvin, Chelanga Langston, Freakwhensee, and Chango were excited to see each other as choir members poured in before a performance at MIA. 

During their most recent performance, the choir performed at Juxtaposition Arts on a sweltering summer day, during High Cotton, an internationally recognized multimedia somatic arts experience and another one of Fearce’s creations. 

For the final song, members dressed in white approached attendees, their hands extended. They welcomed them to the collective resonance of the Sol Salvation Choir. 

“Everybody get you some,” members shouted. Soon, everyone did. 

Right before the choir had to leave the dressing room for their performance, Effy Kawira, left, helped Brandon Mensah, right, with final touch-ups.

The corner exploded into dance, between elders and youth, lovers and friends. 

“I’ve never seen something like this,” said an attendee in passing. 

That something, which may be hard to see on a typical day, was that inward joy reflected outward on Broadway and Emerson: Black joy in abundance under the sun. 

“Sol Salvation came to me because it is really a ministry of the sun. The sun rises every day, it affords us a new opportunity to rise with it in our character, in our communities, to the occasion and to the mundane,” Fearce said. “It doesn't discriminate against who it shines on. It shines on us all. The sun is not bigoted. It is not scornful, it is all-loving and expansive. And that is the guiding light of our choir.” 

“Getcha Sum” by HaSizzle was the last song the choir performed at their High Cotton performance in June. Wisdom, right, amongst other choir members, grabbed people in the crowd to dance. 

JXTA’s skate park ramps were crowded with people who came to witness the choir.