Humour is like an emollient that smooths the path of candid expression. It was often the way with court jesters who would use this manner to impart truth to power, where others preferred tactful silence. I remember during his stand-up comedy routine Bring the Pain, Chris Rock's observation that if you wanted to witness racism unmasked, go to the Deep South & talk to any octogenarian black man. Which is itself ironic since the most virulent expression of racism in the Deep South DOES in fact, wear masks, a hood & a white dressing gown. If you were to repeat what has been building up in the heart of a man who had witnessed lynchings as a boy, who'd only managed to get to the age he was by constantly running for his life & then skulking in the shadows after sundown; watching his father emasculated along with all the male role models he should have looked up to...this list in inexhaustible - but if you were to repeat the 'so much things to say' right now to unbosom a black man from Mississippi, I guarantee you would be called a racist. But a Bernie Mac or a Richard Pryor (RIP) might just get away with it. off white wedding dresses

Music was another way we sublimated our pain. Our keening & warbling, our plaintive wailing & hanging onto notes made us seem less of a threat; it was more of a lamentation than a demand for freedom. We threw everything we had into music, as if we'd made a pact with a Muse to sell him our soul. For truly soul is what emanates out of the music of the South. Enjoy.

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