I struggled with my decision to bring children into this world. A world that is so filled with ignorance, hatred, and prejudice. A world that's poised to judge them, my beautiful black boys, simply on the color of their skin before they even speak their first articulate, carefully chosen words. I often wonder what our ancestors were made of. I'm already tired of fighting. I'm tired of the dualism; I'm tired of having to be "Billy" at the office, or at work functions, and switching to my natural self when I'm at home, or in the car. Now one else has to do this delicate dance between social standards in subcultures and communities at large but minorities, and I'm tired.
As I watched "The Great Debaters", I was gripped by the intensity of the clashing scenes between the white and black actors. I was taken back by my tears because I didn't think it would affect me the way it did. At the end of the movie, one of the main characters quoted St. Augustine. He stated that according to St. Augustine "an unjust law is not a law at all". He went on to say that we have a duty to meet unjust laws with violence and/or civil disobedience, and that the audience, mostly white, should pray that he chose the latter. At that moment when those words were muttered, I started sobbing. It was a quiet intense I understand sob. I sob that said we are still fighting and resisting. And it also said that we're getting tired. Those emotions threw me in a tailspin, and I began to think about the number of minorities in jails, or hooked on drugs, etc. Have they forgotten who they are? Were they ever told? Do they not know their legacy?
We are the ultimate team, who were and still are the underdogs; however, we have started to gain ground and it looks like the game is about to be tied 3 to 3 in a seven game series. We are the only people in history that has had to ascend from the bottom to the top, and we have met that challenge in less than 4 generations. To achieve that enormous feat, we have incurred tremendous casualties, and we have lost several MVPs that were critical to our ascension. It is that price, paid for by the fears, tears, and blood of our ancestors, that we have forgotten. The charge for such a tremendous feat has been simply marked paid with no thought to the check writer, and no reconciliation of gratefulness, humility, and gratitude with the Bank of Spirit that has kept us for being insufficiently funded, and has allowed us to enjoy a bounceless freedom. It is a bank that doesn't charge us for our inactivity, or a dormancy fee for our lack of deposit of community service, agitation, and selflessness.
The above my friends is the price of freedom that we're riding on daily. Quite simply, not having to pay the toll in awhile is no excuse for not knowing the charge and reconciling one's soul with the Bank of Spirit because after all, the spirit is suppose to abide and rest within us. People often wonder how our community has gotten into this situation. It's not a mystery to me. If you don't reconcile with your past and deposit something into the Bank of Spirit, you have nothing to sustain you, which leaves you where most of us are, hopeless and bankrupt.
Remember this, when you're bankrupt, and you get that slip from the bank that states NSF, don't be surprised. After all, spending what others have saved without depositing anything yourself leaves Nothing Stored for the Future! And we're worried about acquiring a "Jesus Piece"? How ironic.
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