There’s only one language that makes injustice look like Pandora’s box: all that’s good and beautiful cruelly flickered away, but there’s a faint sense of hope that survives against all odds. It’s the language of music, preserving scars of the past as amber hugging a fly. African Americans are all too familiar with this in their historical experience with racism. It gave birth to blues as the the ultimate spiritual remedy to pain they endured on a daily basis. Even when racism became a front page issue, it was music to which the rest of us turned in order to understand the absurd logic of the immense suffering we were protected from just because our skin color warranted us privileges that many still take for granted. The George Floyd story is a reminder that the work is far from over.
Lords of the global village ??? Whose stories do we tell
The narrator is an outsider, both as a man and as a caste hindu from another town, in a Adivasi land slowly devoured by…