The story of Honey Jam, a beacon for women in music for 30 years and counting | Canada Voices

Nelly Furtado, Haviah Mighty, Jully Black, Savannah Ré, Melanie Fiona: the list of Honey Jam alumna is impossibly stacked. For three decades, the Honey Jam concert series and artist development program has provided music industry exposure and education to at least 400 female Canadian musicians, many of whom have built careers from its stage.

Honey Jam is now a legacy institution in Canadian music, having expanded from a focus on hip hop to a gamut of sounds, and from Toronto to the entire country – to the point that founder Ebonnie Rowe was named a member of the Order of Canada last month. She started Honey Jam almost by accident, with a radio show guest-hosting spot that sought to call out and combat misogyny in hip hop.

101 Canadian albums you need to listen to now

Since 1995, its regular concerts, workshops and network-building exercises have helped its alumna earn at least three Grammy Awards, 19 Juno Awards (plus dozens of nominations) and one Polaris Music Prize along the way.

Its alumna have saturated not just music, but entertainment as a whole – from director Stella Meghie’s films such as Everything, Everything and The Photograph to singer Jordan Alexander’s star turn on Gossip Girl. Honey Jam almost came to a sudden halt in 1999, but Rowe powered through, and has since reinvented its programming for the digital age.

The Globe and Mail spoke with the people who shaped and were shaped by Honey Jam for this oral history to explore its founding, challenges, successes and future.

These conversations have been edited and condensed.

The beginnings

Ebonnie Rowe, founder and executive director of PhemPhat Entertainment Group, the non-profit that produces Honey Jam: In 1990, a friend died suddenly. I was studying English literature at U of T [University of Toronto] at the time, and I was faced with the idea of mortality. If I was to be gone just like that, what’s been the point of my existence? Studying Chaucer and Shakespeare did not seem to bring anything to the world, so I dropped out – and through a series of events, came up with the idea for a mentorship program, Each One, Teach One. There was a lot of concern then about Black youth and crime. So Citytv personality Jojo Chintoh took me to the Regent Park Community Centre. The kids there needed to see people who looked like them succeeding.

The female mentees in the program would tell me about their five-year-old brothers calling them the B-word and the H-word. They didn’t know what it meant, but they would hear it on the radio. It was not popular to be respectful to women. That’s when I approached DJX, because he had the biggest hip-hop show in the country, to let him know these are obviously unintended consequences. He said, “Why don’t I give you a show?”

Adrien King, a.k.a. DJX, former host of The Power Move on CKLN and Honey Jam’s long-time webmaster: There were threads of the DNA of hip hop that leaned so heavily male that it was nice to balance it out. Ebonnie was proactive. Not only did she stand for women’s rights, but she would back that by taking action. I was hugely supportive of it.

Ebonnie Rowe: Listening to the show was Jason Rosteing – Dr. Jay de Soca Prince. He called and said, “Hey, we want you to edit an all-female issue of our magazine, Mic Check.” It was the wrap party, [celebrating that we put together that magazine] that we first called Honey Jam. Shorty was what men affectionately called women, but they also called us honeys. And what is it that we’re doing? A celebration, a party – a jam. It’s so unserious, but we kept it. [aughs]

There were some female rappers that were performing, and some guys that were there didn’t even know that they rapped, because there was nowhere for them to do it, and they definitely didn’t feel secure to go on the men’s stage, if that would even have been a possibility. So they were like, “We want more of this, please.” I said: Let’s do it for a year and see where it goes. I was really just making it up as I went along. So then we did one at Lee’s Palace in collaboration with Jonathan Ramos and his Hip-Hop Sundays.

The first party had like 100 people; Lee’s Palace had like 700 people. And it was serious hip-hop heads.

That first big Honey Jam concert took place at Lee’s in the summer of 1995, featuring performances by singer Jully Black and rapper Tara Chase.

Jully Black: A bunch of us had a singing group called Distinct Difference, and there was an opportunity to do the Honey Jam showcase. So I did it twice – solo one time. The first year I was 15, the second year I was 16-turning-17, but I already had a record deal.

The year Faith Evans came out was the year I did You Used to Love Me, solo, with dancers in bra tops and Calvin Klein undies showing through the jeans, all that fashion. Luther Brown actually danced for me – since then, everybody from Gwen Stefani to JLo to Janet to Missy to Mary J. Blige, he’s been their choreographer.

Kardinal Offishall, songwriter, rapper, producer, music executive – and, at this first show, hype man for Jully Black: Ebonnie curated a space where women can lead. It was live. This is precellphone: we were living in the moment. We were looking out into the crowd and seeing people’s faces, seeing the energy, the excitement, the cheers, the claps. There was just a communal vibe back in those times.

Julien Christian Lutz, a.k.a. the acclaimed music-video maker Director X: I was around for the Each One, Teach One days; Honey Jam just naturally grew out of that. I definitely drew one of the Honey Jam flyers. There’s something to be said about setting something up for the people, right here in the city. That community is important.

Vivian Barclay, long-time music publishing executive, chair of Honey Jam’s parent non-profit: You could have gone to other places to see rock music, country music or acoustic or singer-songwriter-type stuff. There really was not a place for Black music in general. Back in the early, early days, Honey Jam was specifically about Black women, because that was really where the big hole was. A lot of those artists would say, “This is the first time I’ve had the opportunity to perform in a professional way.” I was there taping some of the early Honey Jam shows.

Michie Mee, one of Canada’s first hip-hop stars and the emcee for the first decade-plus of Honey Jam concerts: I think I added some authenticity. I felt empowered, because I was already in [Queen Latifah’s music video for] Ladies First, and had some encouragement from my American female emcee friends. The girls made me feel authentic.

Jully Black: Honey Jam actually made me decide to change schools. I started going to Oakwood Collegiate to join their music program. I just needed more stimulation. I ended up on the honour roll. As a result of immersing myself in this community, I wanted so much more. I really wouldn’t be the Jully Black I am today.

Honey Jam soon added an education component to help participants get ready for the tumultuous music industry – and, in 1997, minted its biggest star.

Ebonnie Rowe: I’m watching from the back. Girls would come off the stage, and I would see men swarm them, wanting to produce them – the “Baby, I can make you a star” kind of thing. These girls needed protection and knowledge.

Vivian Barclay: Here you have a bunch of women that were a lot of times quite young, had never had interactions with the formal music industry, and now they’re kind of like deer in headlights. We were getting these horror stories, and we were like, “We gotta close the loop on that.” The point is to give these women a platform to launch a career. That’s how we got into the original series we did at the Harris Institute [for the Arts, which offers music-production and management education], where we had a full day of people coming to speak. You’re not at Canadian Music Week or something you can’t afford – it’s accessible, because in those days we did everything for free. That’s why we do the Q&As that we do, why we do these workshops on music publishing, record labels, management.

Ebonnie Rowe: At the time it was called the Women in Urban Music Seminar. There was no money. I was financing it. We got our very first sponsorship from BMG for a whopping thousand. That’s how it became a program. I was committed that it was something that would continue.

Michie Mee: Tara Chase, Melanie Durrant, Nelly Furtado: There were always performances that were resonating.

Vivian Barclay: Nelly Furtado was a turning point for me. In those days, we didn’t have age limits. There weren’t a lot of limits, but the show was known at the time as being about Black music and Black artists. At the time, Nelly was Nelstar* [the name of a trip-hop group she sang for that was sometimes used to describe Furtado alone], doing hybrid stuff closer to what she would [later] do with Timbaland. She came to the audition, and frankly, for me, it was undeniable. I don’t think I was the only person who said, “You can’t not have somebody who’s so undeniably talented be on the show.” Nelly probably opened a lot of people’s eyes around the country to Honey Jam and what it could mean for them.

Ebonnie Rowe: That is the reason it became multigenre. I never said, “Only hip hop, only R&B, only Black artists” – but because I’m Black, that’s what people see.

Nelly Furtado: I’ll never forget the moment I saw a poster advertising the Honey Jam auditions. I just turned 18 and it seemed pretty incredible that it would be an opportunity to audition for a talent show. It was an incredible platform not only to meet other females who were singers and musicians, but to feel the strength of all the women coming together in solidarity.

In 1999, Rowe had grown tired. She still worked with Each One, Teach One and had a full-time job at a law firm to stay afloat. Honey Jam almost came to a close – but instead it became a Canadian institution with more stable footing, thanks to new funders and the possibilities of the internet.

Ebonnie Rowe: I announced I was retiring in 1999 at a Honey Jam concert at the Big Bop. MuchMusic was there, and the reporter started talking to people in the crowd about Honey Jam coming to an end. One of the artists, Nicky Lawrence, said, “Ebonnie, if you’re watching this” – and this was airing nationally – “Please don’t stop doing Honey Jam.”

Nicky Lawrence, singer, songwriter, actor, playwright, director: I said that because I could sense that she was exhausted. When we become exhausted as Black women, there’s nobody else who can lift you up as much as other Black women. Honey Jam’s legacy is that this Black woman has taken this and ran with it for 30 years. If she was a white man and had this audacity, this would be Motown. She has created something this city will never forget.

Ebonnie Rowe: In the early days, it was just Toronto. Then we expanded [to bring in artists from across the country]. People would send in their VHS tapes by FedEx for their auditions. Technology made things more accessible, made artists able to do more. Everyone can get software and be able to experiment in their room. That’s not what used to happen. Lots of people didn’t have the money to pay people to experiment with them. And as we got to be more known, we would become community partners with others, invite each other to our respective events and workshops. I didn’t have to finance everything myself to be able to give artists opportunities and experiences. We started getting support from a major label, TD, FACTOR, Ontario Creates and arts councils.

Chris Taylor [long-time music industry executive] got involved – he introduced me to Slaight Music. Here’s Chris at the BET Awards, with Drake, and he’s messaging me from what was probably a BlackBerry – he’s e-mailing people in his circle and copying me and saying they need to support Honey Jam.

Chris Taylor, entertainment lawyer, manager and executive; co-founder of Last Gang Records and founder of Hall of Fame Artists: This business can be brutal for artists, but in particular for female artists. Seeing what Ebonnie was doing for young women trying to break into the industry was inspiring. How is this woman doing all of this by herself?

By the 2010s, Honey Jam became a well-oiled machine, helping out artists across genres and even artistic disciplines.

Haviah Mighty, Juno Award- and Polaris Music Prize–winning hip-hop artist: One of my parents heard about it. I just remember thinking: “This is a thing I should do.” I did Honey Jam three times. It very much forced me to grow up with my music. It taught me the ways the music industry operates and the things I have to do to keep sustaining my career. I remember these experts in the field being put in a room, and I just had access to them, and I’ll never forget how impactful that was. Honey Jam also reminded me that even if you’re rapping, you need a vocal coach – like, actually remembering that you need to use your diaphragm.

Jordan Alexander, singer, model and actor: My mom heard about Honey Jam on the radio and told me to apply. As artists, we’re used to going with the flow. Learning the business aspects was really helpful. Ebonnie was always on us to be organized and to present yourself so people will give you the best shot. And I got really connected with people – for instance, the album that I released last year, Now You’re Caught Up, was produced by Haviah Mighty.

Ebonnie Rowe: Stella Meghie was a rapper, and now she’s a feature-film director in Hollywood. Jordan Alexander is still doing music, but also veered off into acting. Everyone decides for themselves what they’re going to contribute to the world. I get whiplash when I scroll on Instagram seeing all the different things they’re doing.

Michie Mee: Even if an artist didn’t launch their own career, they helped launch their producer’s career, the management company’s career, the publishing sector would get acknowledgment – all of them had pivotal moments.

Erika Savage, Los Angeles entertainment lawyer, former executive for United Talent Agency and Universal Music Group, early Honey Jam volunteer: The first Honey Jam started before Lilith Fair, but it was all very connected in our mind. If you don’t find a scene, it can be really hard to break through. The Honey Jam stage is a safe space. Volunteering became a big thing for me because I became part of a community of people. I had a specific interest in dance, and helping to start a dance agency [after getting involved with Honey Jam] really got me doing deals. I love advocating for talent. I really don’t think I would be in this position in my career if I hadn’t been a part of Honey Jam.

The COVID-19 pandemic muted Honey Jam’s 25th-anniversary celebrations in 2020, but its legacy has only grown in the past five years, capping off with a July 30 concert at Massey Hall. Economic uncertainty, however, has made planning Honey Jam’s future difficult.

Ebonnie Rowe: I was looking online and seeing artists who’d lost their livelihoods – more than the money was losing the spiritual connection to audiences from performing. That made me want even more to step up and show our determination that we weren’t rolling over. We did an anniversary show, but it was live-streamed. We had 12,000 people tuning in. And it was a beautiful thing. We also got the Roy Thomson Award of Merit from the Toronto Arts Foundation. Massey Hall is part of that family. Last year, I was like, “We have to make up for our 25th anniversary. Why don’t I hold a show at Massey Hall, dammit. That’s where we’re going. We’re going to get lots of financial sponsorship.”

Then Donald Trump enters the chat. And we deal with the Trump trickle-down, which is anti-DEI. Honey Jam is all about equity and diversity. So you saw what happened with Pride – hundreds of thousands [of dollars] cut from confirmed sponsorship. We escaped the chopping block this year, but … I don’t know what the long-term future is going to be. And the money I need for this enhanced production, I don’t have, but I’m already contracted with Massey Hall. It’s causing me a ton of anxiety and lots of sleepless nights, to be honest.

What I do know for sure is that the Honey Jam community, the forever sisterhood, has never been, and will never be in, jeopardy, forever. Even if Honey Jam is just an Instagram page, it is still valuable to connect people and to promote artists. If we have to scale down, we’ll scale down.

Vivian Barclay: Every non-profit in the country is going through the same thing. We’re going to wrestle with: What does Honey Jam look like going forward? Are we still built around a live show, or are there other ways to give artists a platform? Music sells everything but music. The mission is still the same.

DJ Mel Boogie, Honey Jam resident DJ and past publicist, long-time radio DJ: This type of longevity is very rare, especially when it comes to providing a platform for female artists.

Haviah Mighty: What Honey Jam is doing, and what it has continued to do, is showcase a resilience that artists need to carry with them. The artists that are generating success are the ones that stuck it out. For me, it helped develop that. That’s Honey Jam.

As told to Josh O’Kane.