Morehouse College - Perdue Hall (Taken with instagram)

Sat, 05 Feb 2011 19:20:48 -0500

Beautiful Day in the West End (Taken with instagram)

Sat, 05 Feb 2011 15:24:09 -0500

Beautiful Day in the West End (Taken with instagram)

Why did we march?

Fri, 28 Jan 2011 16:22:00 -0500

I’m sure the rain didn’t help.

In hindsight, we should have looked up the forecast. In further hindsight, it probably wouldn’t have mattered. The sky was going to have that deathly shade of gray no matter if the raindrops fell or not. It was a hue cast upon the crowd gathered that made things difficult. Those things were difficult already. Standing on the sidewalk, amidst the hundreds of others standing along the sidewalk, we were all waiting only for a cue. All waiting for a signal that was supposed to come an hour before. Children were frustrated, crying with the impatience they are allotted because they are new to waiting. The rest of us had to pretend we weren’t as upset.

The march finally commenced. The mayor and other local dignitaries led the march in unity. They marched with elbows locked together, singing in unison. I found myself wondering if Rev. King III, a leader in his own right, found solace or anger at the shadow ever before him. Later, they would introduce him as “Dr. King’s Son.” I was embarrassed for him.

Yet, nothing perplexed me more than the march itself. There were pros, but mostly enigmatic moments of frustration where I grew more and more confused with each yard we walked. The guys did us well to start though. Some found it silly, and others wanted to make a scene, but for the most part, they wanted to show that they were there. They wanted to be known that they were present. They locked arms in the way Dr. King would have, and sang the song of his alma mater, they themselves being but freshmen. In that moment, I was proud to be with them. All of the games and jokes subsided as the first verse got underway. it was a glimpse of them all as the men they wanted to be, the men we have been trying to get them to see. It was a good moment, but it was a fleeting moment.

My pride, recent and naive, began to shrink once I found that several brothers had left the group. They went to join young ladies for food, walking by me without the decency of acknowledging my presence as one human being to another. At the end of the march we would see one of those brothers again, saying that he had come back and marched like we all did. I was frustrated at myself for not believing him, and stubborn enough to let that frustration sit.

Further into the march, that frustration grew, as the music before and behind us prompted many of the young men with us to dance. Even now, I cannot fully express my vexation to this regard. Had I not too been young and exuberant in moments that were built to be solemn and sincere? Had I not once danced when it was time to march, or laughed when it was time to pray? Had others not taken marches seriously in the past? Have we not all be exposed to those who could not comprehend the gravity of situations before us, only to find ourselves lacking in our own understanding?

Yet, and still, was it actually solemn and sincere? Was it in fact a time to march, really, or a time to dance, as the young man before me did? Before us, there student’s marching against federal student aid cuts. Behind us, there were a group of culinary artists, several of which were dressed as animated kitchen characters. Among us, almost walking with us, were 4 elderly Israelis, singing Negro spirituals to protest genocide in Israel. A few groups back, fraternities were stepping to the beats provided by another group there to protest the war in Afghanistan. On nearby streets, people were selling Dr. King t-shirts, Dr. King posters, or the chance to get your picture taken in front of a Dr. King backdrop. One young man on the sidewalk put up a black power fist, then pretended his arm was tired, which led him to lay his arm on his head, in laughter.

Why were we all there? For what purpose? For what cause? The answer, quite simply put, is that everyone was there for their own purpose. Each of us were there for our own cause. We are not different. The last thing I said to our group before leaving was to take notes on the type of leadership they saw. This was a class project, not a march for injustice. Yet, what was there for us to emulate? To what end did this march serve? Why did we all gather underneath the hazy gray sky, in the glistening rain, and walk for miles?

If one had to, there are pros to be found. A child, I was told later, was so impressed with the stepping that he wanted to go to college so that he could pledge to. This being, of course, not the ideal reason for one to go to college or reason to pledge, but supposedly positive all the same. Great conversations were had by the guys in our group, leading to conversations of society, peace, and purpose. Yet, how any of that was prompted by the march at hand is unclear.

At some point, it is imperative for us to acknowledge when we, as a community, are simply going through the motions. We marched because it was Dr. King Day. Had we been marching for a purpose, the day it was on would not have been relevant. It was some sort of hybrid, between celebrating, marching, and propaganda. Yet, to the reasons by which we were celebrating, marching, or promoting remains unclear. And so, to take anything from this experience is to find that break of sunlight in the otherwise gray sky. To that end though, I’m sure the rain doesn’t help.

Morning Commute

Sun, 12 Sep 2010 05:14:27 -0400

“We are building up a new world. Do not sit idly by. Do not remain neutral. Do not rely on this broadcast alone. We are only as strong as our signal. There is a war going on for your mind. If you are thinking, you are winning. Resistance is victory. Defeat is impossible. Your weapons are already in hand. Reach within you and find the means by which to gain your freedom. Fight with tools. Your fate, and that of everyone you know Depends on it.” - We Are Winning by Flobots

Elaborate (v)

Morehouse College - Perdue Hall (Taken with instagram)

Beautiful Day in the West End (Taken with instagram)

Why did we march?

Morning Commute