Ring Shout

by P. Djèlí Clark

“Your poor white workers be the first ones at a lynching.

“White folk earn something from that hate. Might not be wages. But knowing we on the bottom and they set above us—just as good, maybe better.”

“Reason and law don’t mean much when white folk want their way.”

“Maybe my mama did spread wings and fly like a bird. Gone where she can’t be hurt no more. I ain’t mad at her for that.”

“You see, the hate they give is senseless. They already got power. Yet they hate those over who they got control, who don’t really pose a threat to them. Their fears aren’t real—just insecurities and inadequacies. Deep down they know that. Makes their hate like … watered-down whiskey. Now your people!”

Songs full of hurt. Songs of sadness and tears. Songs pulsing with pain. A righteous anger and cry for justice. But not hate. They ain’t the same thing. Never was.