As Edith Butel collapsed, her life flashed before her eyes.
The upbringing in the south, dealing with a society that, since she was black
and female, viewed her as a second class citizen within a secondary class.
Music as a way to escape her life, first as daydreams then as reality. The dives
and long nights, the demeaning back up work, and now, just as she was finishing
her album, she gets shot and dies, ensuring she was young and pretty and a
tragic loss for the industry forever.
Shame the bullet didn’t kill her then. But then, nothing
would…
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