When Princess Nokia entered, the lights went dark and the audience cheered as they rushed towards her.

But for the hours of other performances before that, the expansive room was bright. From my place in the crowd, I could turn and see clearly the plentiful buffet of vegetarian food at the back of the space. I had already eaten dinner, but I sampled the mushroom quesadillas anyway, munching on my way back to the front, where an asian rapper was performing an a cappella slam-poem about offensive things other college students had said to him (one had asked him to help with her Chinese homework—he did not speak Chinese). Then the DJ dropped a beat, and the small crowd of students swayed to the rapper’s flow. He was not bad at all, I thought, and the quesadillas were rather tasty.

The rapper was one of many students who performed in Living in Color’s second annual artist showcase. Living in Color, a Northwestern student group, “is a space for those who live in color to express themselves through various mediums on an array of topics,” according to the event’s Facebook page. Though it did include diverse identities and artistic practices, this particular event had a more specific theme: “Language Between the Lines.” The focus was language in art, featuring multilingual performers, but also “expanding the conception of linguistic variety, including artists who work with language in unconventional ways, not strictly verbal.”

The showcase, which put a spotlight on art from marginalized identities, could not have occurred at a more perfect time. Saturday, November 12, only a few days after Donald Trump was elected to be the next president of the United States after running on a platform of hate. In that truly terrifying week, these artists had an opportunity to support each other and make their voices heard. The event felt cathartic—even to a straight white guy like me.

But the highlight of the evening, on which I will focus, was the headliner performance from Princess Nokia. Born Destiny Frasqueri, she has gone by many aliases over the years (Destiny, Wavy Spice) but has long been an important member of the underground hip-hop scene. A through-line from project to project is her dedication to demonstrating her pride and power as a black woman. Princess Nokia is based out of New York, so catching a performance of hers in Parkes hall in Evanston was somewhat surreal.

Plastic chairs were arranged near the front of the room—there was no stage. But when Princess Nokia arrived through the large double-doors, everyone rose to their feet. “Come in close,” she spoke into the microphone, as the first beat started. The crowd obeyed, shuffling into a tight ring around her. Phones out, already recording. On the wall above, abstract projections danced to the music.

Princess Nokia began with a running start, jumping the gun in the best way possible by leading with her hottest new single, Tomboy. Who dat is hoe? That girl is a tomboy. In her hoodie and sweatpants, she danced and rapped, and the crowd responded by layering their own voices into every word, swaying their own bodies to every beat. With my little titties, and my phat belly I could take your man if you finna let me. The song challenged traditional femininity while confidently embracing her own aesthetic, her unique power.

But perhaps even more than it was a celebration of Princess Nokia and her musical prowess, the concert provided a communal space for the entire audience to unite and create their own meaning, celebrate their own identities. For this reason, Princess Nokia’s performance would have been music to the ears of the French philosopher Jacques Ranciere, who argues that viewing a performance is not simply a passive activity.

In his essay “The Emancipated Spectator,” Ranciere writes, “spectators see, feel and understand something in as much as they compose their own poem, as in their way, do actors or playwrights, directors, dancers or performers.” Spectating is most fruitful for a community, he claims, when we are able to close the gap between artist and audience.

Specifically, like the Marxist worker alienated from the fruits of their labor, the spectator has been made blind to their passive position, as viewer dominated by the spectacle. “The separation of stage and auditorium is something to be transcended,” writes Ranciere, and there are many ways to “abolish this exteriority.” For example, one can redistribute space so as to diminish the distance between performer and spectator, as occurred in Princess Nokia’s performance—there was no stage, and although the circular audience put her at the center, every grooving spectator on the opposite side was equally visible.

don’t you fuck with my energy

don’t you fuck with my energy

don’t you fuck with my energy

Princess Nokia chanted, performing “Brujas,” a highlight from her recent mixtape 1992. Her voice was not alone; the emancipated spectators encircling her emphatically joined in. That night, no voice was alone. Princess Nokia skirted the edges of the crowd, often crossing Ranciere’s gap to dance with her audience, the other artists living in color.

i step in this bitch i do what i want

i don’t give a damn i don’t give a fuck

During one of the last songs, a young student leapt from his place in the circle to dance in the open center. He remained there, vogueing, for the rest of the song, as if the music was lifting his arms into angles and twirling his body. He barely acknowledged Princess Nokia who rapped and danced beside him, he was surrounded by the encouraging cheers of the community. Soon, another student broke free from the circle and danced his way onto the imaginary stage. For that night, the line between artist and audience was erased—everyone was able to affirm the presence of their bodies by dancing and singing to the music together.

After an agonizing election cycle that ended even more painfully, Princess Nokia’s performance at the Living in Color artist showcase was a testament to how resilient and supportive a diverse community of artists/spectators can be.