It’s not too late. I know we’ve lost a lot of battles, a lot of beautiful boys a lot of beautiful girls. It might seem as if we can no longer fight, as if “imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy” has won and maybe, for right now, it has. Maybe it has won this particular battle, in this particular place, in this particular time, but it cannot win the war. We cannot allow ourselves to “go gentle into that good night”, cannot continue to “wear the mask that grins and lies”, cannot cope, sleep, survive, yield, acquiesce or any other passive form of being. We cannot. It’s too late to wait, it’s too urgent to stand, we must do more and we must do more daily, in our everyday lives, with our everyday time, and our everyday resources. Our collective must be meaningful, must be robust, must be loud, must be focused, must be energized, must be ready.
No more questions or trying to figure out why, we know the answers, we understand the truth, we live it daily, we breathe the air, we see the stares, we watch it on the news, we got receipts, we are the product, the commodity, been bought and sold, been shot down cold, we already know that Black…Lives…Matter. And this isn’t a poem, a piece, art, something for your shelf, or textbook or classroom, or podcast, to put on display to read or listen to passively. No, this is a declaration of will, in body, in mind, in soul, in love, in pride, in ego, in beauty, in life, in death, in spirit, in molecules and cells and neurons.
We are in a revolution, it’s a revolutionary act, an act of resistance, an act of defiance, to live unapologetically, without shame, in love with yourself for yourself, in love with your Black-ness, in love with your Brown-ness, in love with your Muslim-ness, with your Gay-ness, your Trans-ness, your Other-ness, to have voice, to have agency, to check white supremacy, to disrupt capitalism, to block traffic, to interrupt routine, to force remembrance, to BE. This is not finished.