Soundtrack for a Revolution

I have been blessed with student teachers sent from heaven this school year. Jesica, the current student teacher whiling away the hours with me (trudging through the raging torrents of hormones and axe body spray, more like), got enthused about a documentary called Soundtrack for a Revolution. It tells the story of the Civil Rights Movement through the music that lifted people's spirits, brought them together in solidarity, and gave them righteous courage in the face of death. Students loved the movie...and trust me, if 14 year-olds are into something of an educational nature, it's good!

I feel obligated to forewarn you: the soundtrack to this film is not available anywhere. Complete sadness possessed me as I typed that sentence. The good news is, it's available to watch instantly on Netflix.

 

Since I'm on the topic of music and the Civil Rights Movement, I want to share another moment of courageous musical expression with you. In the midst of the second wave of the KKK-- it started in about 1915, and was known for it's violence (lynching, maiming, etc.)-- when membership ranged somewhere in the 6-8 million range in the USA, and adult, white male membership averaged between 20-40% depending on where a person lived, Billy Holiday and the Jewish songwriter Abel Meeropol collaborated to create a brilliant piece of activism. The song, "Strange Fruit", was a refusal to accept the continuing legacy of racism, a refusal to let the public look the other way, and perhaps a refusal to be owned by the fear of the lynch mob.

Strange Fruit

Southern trees bear strange fruit,

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,

Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,

Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant South,

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,

Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,

Then the sudden smell of burning flesh!

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,

For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,

For the sun to rot, for the tree to drop,

Here is a strange and bitter crop.

 

 

Of course music was central to the Civil Rights Movement; lyrics sung like an incantation or prayer in the oldest language.  I am so thankful for all the people -- those who were martyred, and those who lived-- who refused to let the threat of death deter them from protesting and bringing change to this country.

 

If you want to explore the topic of lynching further, and feel brave enough to face the skeleton-in-the-closet of lynching postcards, visit this site.