I was very moved by the Dalit women writing today. I
am a white, christian American male and while we have
come a long way here in giving women their rights as
human beings, we have made progress but native
american women and black women still fall through the
cracks in the system. The world needs to become a new
people whose spiritual selves are obvious where there
are no judgements or prejudices and sexual identities
are not cause for power plays and we become fully who
we are, whether male, female, or any combination. We
need this resurrection...it is who mankind is, it
would be easy to be decieved, sepecially when you look
around the world and see the hatred against the
female, and notice too...that all wars are basically
race wars, white people against dark-skinned ones. 
The Dilat woman who wrote that very moving post is a
survivor. She carry as unique perception as she caste
difference personal difference...but for mankind there
is a common thread between all of us, mostly unspoken.
I dont believe there are any accidents in why people
are born where they are or who they are...with no
accidents...being born a Dilat woman at this time and
place has a purpose...we in this generationa nd the
next generation are dealing with a larger world than
people who came before us...and we know what has gone
down in history...crimes against women. All of us
(especially men) need to deal with world consciousness
and begin to see unity...I was impressed that Swathy
M. was identifying with Black Americans...its time
that tribal people in the rest of the world, Central
and South America, Africa, Australian and India...and
so find unity...IN THIS AGE we are not isolate. NO one
is. What happens here, happens there...on sometimes
subtle distrubing levels....groups are more powerful
than people working alone...That is why Green youth
need to be united ...The following poem is something I
thought of after reading the Dalit posts its by Maya
Angelou - I know why the caged bird sings.

A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to
claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he
opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he
names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he
opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.



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