the hierarchy of language

A hierarchy is a system of social statuses within a society ranked according to distribution of power, authority, and wealth according to one Google definition. This term implies a infamous and expansive history of class systems which flourished through all civilizations. Such is the nature of all communities; one dominant figure or faction takes on a superior role and in turn dictates how things will be ran and by whom they will be directed. Those that fall in the category of the underprivileged, or the powerless, are left to fend for themselves and fight to gain any form of control or impact they can possibly manage. These lower-class members are the subalterns; the marginalized. Struggling for the right to speak and the honor of respect, these outcasts seek independence through banning together in hopes of overthrowing, or at least joining the ranks of the monarchs and other rich cliques. Living without a voice is not only excruciating, but impossible; there must be some way for these people characterized as less valid than the majority.

As is suggested in Professor Rob Burton's contemporary work, Artists of the Floating World, incorporating the “othered” voice into our personal life experience is one attempt to include those people labeled as inferior (Burton 129). While this approach does not involve the effort of the marginalized person themselves, it does offer some impressive remedies for the issue. Rather than marketing a minority voice as a collective representative for the generalized feelings of their particular affiliation (Burton 129), it makes more sense to view that person as a single aspect of the greater human society. All that a person can claim to represent is their personal situatedness. It is only possible to recount private experiences. Even when trying to accurately retell the content of another's observation, the substance of your account is purely your reinterpretation of the events. So, it is not fair to say that because an individual belongs to a certain subaltern community that their explanation is fully representative of even one other member of their small faction. Each person is unique, and that distinction is precisely what links us together.

Considering our mainstream media, it is a wonder that these subalterns are recognized at all. Using the case study of Miriam Makeba and Brenda Fassie, both female South African musicians, it is pretty evident what criteria must be met for these seemingly similar women to get world-wide recognition. Apparently, Makeba is an international success, and has worked with famous American singers to promote her message of love and peace. When comparing this songbird to her cohort, the differences begin to outshine the cohesion. Fassie is only well known in her personal township, allegedly only making it to my classroom audience by some chance viewing of her performance by the professor. Her message of the growing issue of spousal abuse is less appealing to a broad audience because of its connotations of strained discomfort in society at large. If Fassie had promoted a more digestible topic and found connections to a more Westernized outlet like her competitor did, she may have had a more prominent voice, and been a subaltern no more. However, as it is, those that do not market well are those that have minimal financial backing and messages that are either too differing or too intense for the masses to cheerfully sing along with.