Do you remember what it feels like to get pushed to your limit and vehemently fighting just to get to your feet again? I’ve put a lot of thought into the concept of getting back up, at times I’ve felt it was the mantra of a storyline that I’d wished to forget. Imagine what the reaction might be if there were people, your people, standing beside you as you fell. Just think about it for a moment, do you believe it would still happen? Could it possibly be true that actually in fact the tides would turn on your attacker and you would no longer worry about your strength to persevere, what would you do then?
We have seen white supremists appointed by #Trump, Nazis like the others taking to cabinet in just a few weeks in #SteveBannon and #RichardSpencer with his “Hail Trump, Hail our people” atrociousness from within Government buildings in DC, their actions speak for themselves. I hear people in disbelief, when people see these believed to be outliers appointed into his administration they default to past lost elections and begin almost methodically recalling the political actions maybe it feels better to stick to what’s easy, what’s palatable, but these times are unique and call for strength: they are not outliers. I do, at the same time, see that in the face of adversity there will be resistance. With resistance comes struggle. With struggle comes passion. With Passion comes life. We are looking a different world in the face now and there is no room for hesitation: we must continue to fight.
I started to feel a little comfortable with passing time, and life somewhat returning to its status quo. Here in Los Angeles we’re being regarded as a safe haven city, a city where those who have been persecuted might find refuge, a city who speaks for itself, and yet, there continues to be a decided choice for some to look the other way. I talk to friends, I speak up, and somehow I am astonished at what I hear and what I find that people are gravitating to as truth. Just today I was reminded that the #AltRight has been empowered and hoping that these horrendous #HateCrimes would peter out is as naive as living in your protected bubble: this from Greenwood Indiana:
From Ohio:It feels like weekly if not daily somewhere someone is being attacked with cowardice like ruining someone’s home in the dead of night, and it reminds me of the guttural genocides that only minorities know of and midnight mob mentalities. From Philidelphia:
And we wonder why we have issues with eating, with food, with family, with culture, with heritage, with tradition, with identity, with pride, with self worth, with who we are when we are always punished for standing up for ourselves. I’ve been in the position of this young man, in similar derogatory situations that seek to isolate and destroy, I know that this was not the first nor the last time he has been name called and made fun of for being different. I know when it was me, I decided I no longer liked the food my grandmother made, I didn’t want my mother sending me with home made gems that represented a culture that didn’t align with white america, and I denounced my heritage and have never eaten those things again. And I know I’m not the only person who has decided, as a defense mechanism, to try to smudge away those easily identifiable traits and turn them to assimilating survival skills. From Savannah, Georgia:
Firemen don’t carry guns, they aren’t provided them as part of their duty, but they are apparently just as free from culpability as the murdering police officers that seem to be running scot free in our world. What do you think that white firefighter does when he is called to the scene of a primarily black household whose house is on fire, what do you think he does when he finds that people are still inside that burning house? I’m reminded of the story of Rodricus Crawford (please read and educate yourself if you don’t know this story) and the paramedics, police, and justice system in Louisiana that helped to insight wrongful murder charges on this father sending him to death row after his one year old son died in his sleep. We don’t know what we don’t know. It sickens me to draw the parallel but simply reverse the race in every murder crime you hear about, in every shooting, and think about the results. Think about all the cries for help that go unanswered because of the neighborhood a person lives in, or the color of their skin. Just take the moment, say it out loud, ask your friends and family what they think would happen, start the conversations. It’s time to change how we view the world and accept that the world we thought we lived in is not the world of today, it’s time to open your minds to the possibility that in your hesitation you just might be contributing to the problem. Be apart of something uncomfortable and push your boundaries, you might just find yourself out there in the sea of revolutionaries.
When we accept systemic hate, when we silence our lifeforce, we lose pieces of ourselves. Raise to your feet, stand up, find your courage and speak out. I know you can…
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