Broken Records: How Songs of the Past Depict Our Current Reality

AUTHOR’S NOTE: In honor of the Black creators who inspired this piece, and for every Black person who lost their life at the hands of the biased judicial system, I will be donating $1 to Color of Change for every song sent to me that reflects the signs of our time [donation capped when $100 maximum is reached]. Color of Change is our country’s largest online racial justice organization mobilizing 1.4 million members dedicated to knocking down the walls holding Black folx back. Submissions can be sent to ashley_onnembo@emerson.edu— your thoughts on the song, artist, or events that are occurring in our world today are more than appreciated [but not necessary]!

Did you hear what happened in Birmingham, Alabama?

Agony and abhorrence, combined with decades of unjust exasperation, flooded the city’s lively streets. Fueled by pent-up frustrations, thousands of African-American students asserted their presence in a place unwilling to consider the power and potential as a generation. The unpermitted march pushed adolescents to not only advocate for their future, but for every life wrongfully affected by our corrupt constitution. The demonstrators who sparked this movement, and the counterparts who kept it alive, only wished to shed light on the inherently racist system in a peaceful manner. Their optimistic vision for change, however, was greeted by high-pressure fire hoses pulled by those who are ironically meant to protect human lives. Heavy wooden clubs and police dogs  suppressed the mouths and minds fighting for equality without batting an eye, and were applauded by the local masses for doing so. 

Did you hear what happened in Washington, D.C.?

The plaza between St. John’s Church and Lafayette Park roared with vigor. Crowds gathered to challenge the immunity granted to those on the lighter side of the skin tone spectrum. Amidst the peaceful yet pressing calls-to-action came a thick cloud of unbearable smoke. Concussion grenades and police in full riot gear, paired perfectly with launched tear gas cannons, forced the once energetic protestors to disperse the streets. Within a matter of minutes, the experiences of Black people around the world were silenced by a single photo. In no other than a mocking tone, the white [or rather orange] man’s symbol promoted false harmony. A picture expresses a thousand words, and this one spoke volumes for the countless times in history where white figures ripped the spotlight away from a moment that was not their own. 

Would you believe these events, although almost identical in their fates, were separated by more than half a century?

America’s image, despite its roots being reliant on the cultures of other ethnicities, takes no pride in its melting-pot origins. In time thought to be more progressive than ever before, to ask one simple question: what’s going on? Marvin Gaye, the Prince of Motown, has asked this question since his emergence in 1971. His eleventh album in particular signified Gaye’s outraged attitude towards our country’s racial inequalities and tolerance of violence. His illustration of picket lines and signs directly mirror the plethora of George Floyd protests surging communities and cities around the country. His description of the discriminatory stereotypes associated with certain Black hairstyles only reminds us of the painful assimilation and marginalization Black folx face when entering workplaces. Corporate America still regards natural Black hair as an unprofessional image for employees to uphold, and makes virtually no efforts to alleviate this harmful stigma. This apathetic approach further highlights the ways authoritative figures are unwilling to listen to Black experiences when it comes at the cost of losing their own privileges, which additionally applies to Gaye’s plea for an end to police brutality and a start to open conversations with Black citizens. The three minute and fifty three second song acts as the world’s largest rhetorical question with a most blatant answer. Its obvious and absurd nature is a stark contrast to the affectionate ballads Gaye produced in the past; his decision to give way to the grievances plaguing his mind only emphasizes how imperative it is for us to bring light to these tragedies. 

But how can the villainous crimes committed in broad daylight be rightfully recognized when the ones perpetuating this harm happen to be the keepers of our justice system? Would Billie Holiday expect the strange and bitter fruit of our dark past to shamelessly sway in the summer breeze in the 21st century? Would she expect their meaning to be hidden for what they truly are at the risk of upholding white supremacy? The haunting protest song against the inhumanity of racism emerged during a time of deep segregation, but the anthem “Strange Fruit” still rings true today. In less than a month after George Floyd’s murder, Black bodies across the country are found lifeless from lynchings. The haphazard framings of these deaths as suicides, the failure to conduct thorough and proper investigations, the disgusting normalcy paired with these devastatingly important losses— it's almost as if Holiday will resume her position behind the mic for another night at West 4th’s Cafe Society in New York City. 

The criminal justice system never favored the experience, the vibrance, or lives of Black folxs in America. Systemic racism is ingrained in its very existence, its values built on protecting white lives and appearances above all else. But the High Priestess of Soul could’ve told you that over 50 years ago. Nina Simone, a singer-songwriter and Civil Rights activist, belted her disturbance with the state of the South over showtune beats. Clearly, her attempt to convey the urgency to transform the way we look at and treat Black folx in America went unheard. The hound dogs on her trail still stalk Black communities by over policing the neighborhoods that were designed to segregate and set back innocent residents. The school children still sitting in jail are not only those who exercise their First Amendment right, but also detainees forced into cages by the Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Whether Simone realized it or not, “Mississippi Goddam” foreshadowed the exact predicament we find ourselves in today: doing things gradually only brings about more tragedy. 

The majority of these cruelly specific tragedies are not televised in the same way Gil Scott-Heron warned that the Revolution, and interchangeably “The Manny”, would not be in 1971. His scathing words dig directly into the false narrative that is unrightfully generated by white media outlets. Whether it's a facade of solidarity fronted by large corporations who benefit from prison labor or through capitalist companies that deliberately donate to causes out of touch with the Black Lives Matter movement, it’s evident that Scott-Heron’s promise outwardly stating the revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox is more prevalent than it was when he first screamed the line. As he details the lack of pigs shooting down brothers on the instant replay, it only reminds us of the destroyed body cameras and tampered evidence in Breonna Taylor’s, Elijah McClain’s, and countless other cases of injustice. Even when abuses of power are televised to the general public, justice is still not served. And just like highlights will not be shown on the 11 o’clock news, the coverage of the George Floyd protests died down immensely as demonstrations became more civilly widespread; when gatherings were televised, protestors were automatically blacklisted as “radical” when their goal was to challenge the exact infrastructure that allows the glorification and reimagination of white history. Scott-Heron was right— you can’t change the channel when gory representations of white domination become too much. You can’t close a social media app and decide you have participated in enough activism today. The unavoidable parallels between now and then confirm that the revolution cannot and will not be pinned down to a specific time period. 

How much longer are we going to turn the volume down on stories that characterize the reality of being a Black person living in America? Or even worse, how much longer will we continue to turn the volume up without truly comprehending what the artist is trying to say?

To those who find themselves ready to put a stop to the endless loops of inequity, and to myself as a white woman who tries to be a better ally, continue to fight the power. Use your voice and privilege to bring awareness to these issues just like these artists did. Use your passion and intersectional identity to build momentum for change, because systemic racism will continue to thrive as long as oppressed populations are weakened through separation. Most importantly, keep listening and supporting the experiences of Black folx across America. The revolution will put you in the driver’s seat. Now it’s our job to keep pumping the gas.