Billie Holiday singing.
The phrase 'strange fruit' keeps echoing in my head. Somewhere there is a poem, about the 'strange fruit' now rotting behind bars and growing in prison yards. I can't find it, yet. It taunts me.
More and more I am beginning to understand the rage at blithe racism. At least with 'strange fruit' you wouldn't get your hopes up. Now, with prison owners feeding off the blood of thousands of young men (and an increasing crop of young women), the 'strange fruit' have moved literally and figuratively underground.
Unthinking Eurocentrism is an excellent book, but not an easy read.
I need to go through at some point and see all the movies it references. The ones not aimed at whites interest me the most, to be honest. I'd like to see a world without 'me' in it. Perhaps there I can find a new 'me'.
The Story About The Man And The Dog
34 minutes ago