Spillin’ Honey — The First Hip-Hop Anthem of Solidarity

 By Antar “Juda” Davidson

As we move through this season of gratitude and shared legacy, I find myself reflecting on where Spill the Honey truly began—not just as a movement or a film, but as a voice. For me, that voice emerged in 2011 inside Eminem’s Detroit studio, when history, hip-hop, and healing met in one unexpected moment.

I had just come back from Israel, where I’d been rapping and working alongside Moses “Shyne” Barrow during his spiritual return to Judaism. During that time, I met Dr. Shari Rogers, who had recently launched Spill the Honey—an organization inspired by Holocaust survivor Eliezer Ayalon, whose testimony changed her life.

Eliezer’s story became the founding symbol of Spill the Honey and the spark behind the song you’re hearing today. Just before being deported by the Nazis, his mother gave him a spoonful of honey—as a final gesture of love to protect him from the bitterness of what was coming.

That moment became the metaphor for everything Spill the Honey stands for:

Even when the world is cruel, we spill sweetness.

Even when history wounds, we build bridges.

Even when voices are silenced, we sing.

Shortly after returning to the States, Shari brought me to Detroit and introduced me to Josh Smith. We had never worked together before. But after one morning of deep conversation—about identity, memory, and unity—we walked into the studio. The beat was produced by Roger Goodman. Behind the board was Steve King, the engineer who mixed Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.” By the end of the day, “Spillin’ Honey” was born—the first hip-hop song ever created under the Spill the Honey mission.

I opened the first verse like this:

“Sharing this generosity colossally / On the top in the air, Travelocity

Awesomely redefining what is possible…”

The song wasn’t subtle—it was a declaration. Of creativity, of connection, of overflowing legacy. It was about spilling goodness into the world boldly and without apology.

Later in the verse, the imagery deepens:

“We got the light in the dark, like a match in a cave

A million and one just a fraction of graves…”

That line comes from the Holocaust—the “million and one” a humble nod to the six million Jewish lives lost. It’s a call to remember—not just the numbers, but the stories, the sweetness, the sparks, the survivors like Eliezer Ayalon who gave us the honey to spill.

In the final verse, I invoke the last words of Jewish journalist Daniel Pearl, who declared, “I am a Jewish American” before his murder:

“You got that inner voice, so start feelin’ it…

With a lesson for the world, eyes on a generation’s last words, like Daniel Pearl.”

That lyric—and the song as a whole—became the prototype for what would eventually grow into Bars & Bridges — our model for turning history into hip-hop and classrooms into studios where legacy is something you don’t just learn, but live.

This month, as we reflect on roots, resilience, and gratitude, I’m reminded of how much we owe to Eliezer Ayalon—the man whose mother’s spoonful of honey inspired an entire movement. Through his story, Spillin’ Honey became more than a track. It became a mission.