Welcome to The Circus

There’s a quiet intentionality to the way Mustafa Ali-Smith moves. A social justice advocate, student, and vinyl DJ whose work bridges music, justice, and culture, he’s part of a generation shaping how community and creativity meet. Now part of the BKc team, we spoke with Mustafa about lineage, purpose, and how storytelling continues to shape his journey.

How did you first discover The Brooklyn Circus?

Around 2019, and the years following, my sense of style was starting to shift. I was becoming more intentional about what I wore and why I wore it. I didn’t want to just put on clothes and shoes. I wanted to wear pieces that stood for something. Leaning into that perspective, I sought out Black-owned brands, and The Brooklyn Circus kept appearing in my feed and searches.

What drew me in then, and still does now, is the storytelling at the core of the brand. When I was introduced to the brand, I was seeing posts on the BKc social media about Angela Davis and the Black Power Movement, and later the BKc x GAP campaign that shed light on the student power movements. It felt grounded in history and purpose, which had always been a key piece of my own identity.

When I finally stepped into the Nevins flagship, the space felt just like that. The textures, the knits, the varsity wools, the photos on the walls, the books on the table — from Black Ivy to Jazz Covers — everything spoke to me, and I knew from there this was a space I wanted to be a part of.

You’re a marathoner, law student, DJ, vinyl collector, family man, and a very stylish guy. How do you balance it all? Do you have more than 24 hours in your day?

We have to remember that we all have the same 24 hours as the next person. To me, it’s about how and what we do with that time. And that’s where the balance comes in.

I’ll be the first to tell you, I know I hold many hats at once. I’m a DJ and a social-justice advocate. I’m a student and lifelong learner. I’m a vinyl collector who cares about style and history. I’m a marathoner who prioritizes my health. With multiple interests, there has to be structure, but there’s also a lot of sacrifice that happens too.

Sometimes that means waking up at 4 a.m. to read or to get miles in before the day starts. Other times it means not staying out late, listening to my body, and choosing rest and recovery. But the most important part for me is saying yes to what aligns with my values and no to what dilutes them. It is not easy, but then again, it’s not supposed to be. Right?

What is your 100-year plan? Do you think about the future often? 

I think about the future all the time.

And to think about the future is to be grounded in the past, which has always guided me forward.

I think about my grandfather’s role in the Nashville sit-ins during the civil rights movement, working to desegregate lunch counters and expose injustices against Black and Brown people. I think about my late grandmother’s organizing work in Chicago to help elect Harold Washington as the city’s first Black mayor. I think about the home I grew up in and my parents’ bookshelf, lined with Angela Davis, the Soledad Brothers and George Jackson, James Baldwin, Claude Brown, and more. All of that shaped how I see the world and what I believe my responsibility is in it.

That responsibility guides the work I do now. When I DJ, I’m building spaces where people connect through music and feel part of something larger than themselves. In my previous nonprofit and government work, I focused on criminal justice reform, resource provision, and addressing community violence, with the goal of building a future where people have what they need to thrive.

I take a lot of inspiration from historian Robin D. G. Kelley’s idea of freedom dreaming, using imagination to build the world we want our children and grandchildren to inherit. The imagination matters, but so does the daily practice that moves us toward it.

In practical terms, the 100-year plan looks like this. Using my legal training to advance policies that keep people rooted in their communities. Building third spaces where music, history, and conversation live together. Continuing to channel the work of my parents and grandparents in organizing and activism. Supporting scholarships and internships that centers public interest work.

It’s about acting now so the next generation starts further down the road than we did.

The Brooklyn Circus is a living, breathing ground for great thinkers. What are you thinking and working on most these days?

I spend a lot of time reading and writing about the laws and policies that shape our lives, especially in the current state of America. I’m sure you can probably sense that.

I think about the outcomes those policies create, especially how Black and Brown communities have been treated throughout history. I think about how these communities are treated now.

Finishing my policy degree and stepping into law, I want my education to be a tool I can use to serve people better. That is part of my family’s story and mine. I want my work to reflect that and to produce changes people can feel, and I think about the ways I can do that every single day.

Tell us more about your new role and venture within The Brooklyn Circus.

As Community Engagement & Culture Associate, I am focused on the experience — whether someone walks into the store or connects with us online. There are two core lanes I’m interested in.

First is editorial. As a writer and editor, I’m building upon the BKc Culture section as a platform that highlights history, creativity, art, music, and fashion. The goal here is to share the inspirations driving our work and the work of our Global Village. I want to build a consistent archive that people can learn from and return to.

Second is community engagement through music and listening. Music has always been a way to connect and engage with people. We are leaning into that with BKc Records, a record store and listening experience inside our flagship shop on Nevins.

The idea here is to slow people down. Hear what is spinning. See the records. Talk to each other. Let the store operate as a true third space.

Record stores have long been gathering spaces and cultural hubs. BKc Records taps that lineage and extends it on Nevins. I want people to feel welcomed, to feel seen, and to leave with a story, whether they bought a record or simply spent time with the music inside the shop.