Ever since I got back from India, I’ve been determined to write more and share the journey. For starters, the music is epic. And by epic, I mean literally, like gods and demons and love affairs between the undead. I’ll tell you about how much of that I was walked into in a later post! For now, here’s a video or two that come from that crazy part of the world that birthed my ancestors.
Listen to enough conversations in Black America, and you’ll eventually hear a Black man call another Black man “God.” And he’ll mean it. And not in a cult leader kinda of way, but as a serious form of address, often between men who look like they’ve been through some serious sh*t. You ever met a Five Percenter? Like a real one? They’ve all been through some serious sh*t. And these men wouldn’t play with the word “God.” Neither would most people in Black America, because God still means something deep there.
Bishop Turner notes that it would be better to be an atheist or pantheist than to worship a personal God who looks nothing like the persons worshiping him.
It’s this sentiment that eventually gave rise to the modern cliché “My God doesn’t have a color.” It wasn’t some scientific rationalism or Neo-Platonism. It was simply developed as a way to dance around what this God might look like.