“Through sheer volume and reach, TIFF has become an ongoing reminder of the talent Hollywood is failing to capture — changing the question from ‘Where are the women?’ to ‘Why aren’t you hiring any of these women?’”
“If we look through a piece of glass, irregularities and impurities may distort and discolor the impression of what we see. If we regard something through a convex lens, it appears to be upside down. But if we place a concave lens in front of the convex lens, we correct the distortion in the convex lens and things no longer appear topsy-turvy. Each one of us regards the world through his own lens, his own glasses. The effect of those glasses is that, even though we may be looking at the same thing, not all of us actually see the same thing. The lenses are ground by each individual’s upbringing, disposition and other factors.”
But the paradox is that on some level, when we substitute Michael Brown, the young man who wrote rhymes and struggled in school but graduated after a push from his family and teachers, for “Michael Brown,” the most recent avatar for this cluster of intractable social issues, we focus on individual outcomes at the expense of focusing on systems and laws. “Preventing the next Michael Brown,” then, means giving complicated conversations about policing strategy and residential segregation the same airtime that we might give to the quelling of protests or the fate of Darren Wilson and the Ferguson police.
Unless Hollywood is making money off depicting their lives, India’s slum kids fly under the radar, both at home and abroad. Indian society is still very much defined by the caste system, and many people consider these kids the lowermost rung of society–untouchables. Their lives often go unseen. Their voices often go unheard.
In New Delhi, however, a newspaper is putting their struggles on the front page. Balaknama is a broadsheet with a team of reporters, editors and contributors made up of children from the city’s streets.
Higher than a motherfucker, dreaming of you as my lover Flying like a streamer, thinking of new ways to do each other Pull out the incisor, give me two weeks, you won’t recognize her Mouth open, you’re high