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Book Review: Red Rising

Red Rising is the first book in the Red Rising Series by Pierce Brown.The book claims to be a “hectic ride”, and it is. Hectic. Fast. Quick. Entertaining. The pace is like a sprinter from start to finish.And this pace is its charm and its weakness. Let me explain.The entertaining part is that the author blows through micro-details about various places, characters, technology and other advanced…

does anyone have any writing they appreciate that is focused on the intersections of transfeminization and caste specifically?

#reading & study #transfeminism #caste

One afternoon, King and his wife journeyed to the southern tip of the country, to the city of Trivandrum in the state of Kerala, and visited with high school students whose families had been Untouchables.

The principal made the introduction. “Young people,” he said, “I would like to present to you a fellow untouchable from the United States of America.”

King was floored. He had not expected that term to be applied to him. He was, in fact, put off by it at first. He had flown in from another continent, had dined with the prime minister. He did not see the connection, did not see what the Indian caste system had to do directly with him, did not immediately see why the lowest-caste people in India would view him, an American Negro and a distinguished visitor, as low-caste like themselves, see him as one of them. “For a moment,” he wrote, “I was a bit shocked and peeved that I would be referred to as an untouchable.”

Then he began to think about the reality of the lives of the people he was fighting for—20 million people, consigned to the lowest rank in America for centuries, “still smothering in an airtight cage of poverty,” quarantined in isolated ghettoes, exiled in their own country.

And he said to himself, “Yes, I am an untouchable, and every Negro in the United States of America is an untouchable.”

In that moment, he realized that the Land of the Free had imposed a caste system not unlike the caste system of India and that he had lived under that system all of his life. It was what lay beneath the forces he was fighting in America.

Isabel Wilkerson, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontent

#isabel wilkerson #caste #mlk jr #underclass

‘Unlike the other Chopra men in the complex, Mohit knew how to concentrate his rage.’ An extract from The Complex by Karan Mahajan.

Of the eight students on strike, only one refused the secret meals and took sips of juice or tea instead: Anshul Tripathi. By the third day of the strike, Tripathi really was going gaunt. Tripathi, at twenty or twenty‑one or whatever age he was, already looked like a grown man – with his windshield forehead, his thick mustache, frizzy hair falling on either side in wings from a center parting, sleekly slanting nose that ended in large nostrils, the worry grooves on his forehead like lines of angry text for his followers to interpret – a tall, thin, nervy lad who occasionally smeared Brahmanic ash on his forehead. Perhaps he had worn the ash even before the strike – but Mohit hadn’t noticed. Yes, Anshul looked more and more like those serious, starved Brahmans one saw haunting the roadsides with silver begging bowls and staffs, but dressed spiffily in dhotis and possessing the pride and dignity of Brahmans nevertheless . . . At that moment, sitting in the headquarters with Anshul, Mohit realized – with a kind of shock – that he believed in caste.