I realize on a deep and cosmic level that I may die dreaming of Black freedom.
That will not be fine but I accept all that is, a world that is not safe but can be joyous, the racism, the struggle, and witnessing how so many Whites have remained stuck in honoring White supremacy. Those of you who remain blind to the cost of White privilege.
I know that the history of pain, execution, and torture experienced by my people is real. That unarmed black and brown folk can be murdered on the street, on camera, and grand juries refuse to indict. I live with the stench and this sadness.
Police should be held accountable for the use of excessive and deadly force.
I too know that the young people, those younger than my 56 years, are on fire, lit, and show the true meaning of courageous hearts.
Oh and they have been listening and reading and learning at our tables.
Our collective black experience has been internalized and our voices of revolution remain with them.
I watch as they chain themselves to poles, ladders, concrete barriers, with raised fists stopping traffic and taking over streets with bullhorns.
I don’t even see myself doing that at their age — so I sit in awe and quiet respectfulness of their courage.
We will be alright.
Know this too, that my spirit will live outside of my body, with these words, memories you have of me, and we will be free.
I may die dreaming of freedom but in the meantime while I am here, I am part of the collective that fights for human rights.
Be Free in all the ways you can be.