Reflections:
January 2009
My
Last Inner Chains are Falling

“Our world is a neighborhood
and yet we have not had the
ethical commitment to make it a brotherhood.” Dr. Martin
Luther King, Jr.
Martin Luther King, Jr. day has been significant in my life from the
time I had memory. My father, who will be 81 this year, was
deeply involved in the Civil Rights movement. He was
president of the Albuquerque branch of the NAACP, he was at the March
on Washington, and he helped to get laws passed in the 50’s
that allowed Black folk to own property in the state of New Mexico. As
a person who was invested in the movement, he taught me about the key
players in that movement from a very early age. I
can’t remember a February without being glued to
“Eyes on the Prize,” and I can’t recall
a King day at home without the “I Have a
Dream” speech.
In college I didn’t do anything special on King
Day. By that time I was more in line with the ideas of
Malcolm X and the Black Panthers. At least that’s
what I thought. Well, I didn’t really think, it was
more what I had been led to believe. I have come to know,
however, that the messages of our leaders and movements were about the
same things: equality, economic equality, and human rights.
And I am not writing this to get on a soap box, I am writing this
because I have realized during these last few years, that somehow many
of us have been missing the message on the tip of Dr. King’s
tongue when he died. Perhaps it is the very message he died
for. While Dr. King is frozen in time as a Civil Rights icon,
he was outspoken about the war in Vietnam, he was clear about the
abuses of power that the United States was involved in at home and
abroad, he spoke boldly about poverty and worker’s rights and
he was encouraging folks to challenge the class structure of the United
States. Dr. King dreamt, yes, he did. He reinvented himself
too. He took on whatever issues he felt were important. He
struggled, he was criticized, he was attacked, and he was—by
all accounts—exhausted, but he kept going. I cried
when I saw footage of Dr King walking in a housing march in
Chicago. He was both strong and vulnerable. And in Memphis,
he was determined to shed light on those workers who were fighting
their cause in the shadows. And that leads me into
tomorrow. Into the Presidential inauguration of Mr. Barack
Hussein Obama. As I walked in the snow with my three year old
today, I kept hearing the words of my friend, Sasha Dees.
“You realize that for your kids having a Black president will
be something they take for granted. It will be
normal for them.” I think of this three year old
and her 20 month old sister who when shown a picture of Barack Obama
say “Obama.” I think of how they
recognize his voice when they hear it on the radio. Serene
says, “Malia and Sasha should come over to
play.” My children believe that anything is
possible. All children should believe this, but all children
do not believe this and most children have never had the luxury of this
belief.
Frantz Fanon wrote that one of the most devastating
things about colonization is that it extends to the imaginations of the
colonized (insert oppressed) people. In my own
life, I never believed that there would be a Black president.
And if there were going to be one, I was sure that he would in no way
be connected to real issues. In fact, I had pretty much given
up on politics all together no matter the color of the
politician. So Obama-- this Obama family, their story, their
legacy, the love between them completely caught me off guard.
Affluent, and humane. Steeped in Black culture and inclusive.
Hip and classy. Spiritual and practical. Huh? This is
possible? This victory means things to me on many different levels, and
I am still processing it. Many many people set the stage for
Barack Obama to shine on. Shine on First Family.
And for my parents who had to use segregated bathrooms and go to
segregated schools and fight battles in the courts to be given their
due, this victory means something else. I can only imagine the weight
of some of the tears that my mother shed on November 4th. Our tears
were both weighted and buoyant. And Dr. King? Who
could imagine what this moment might have meant to him.
We don’t know what President Obama will do. We need
to celebrate and then we need to get down to business. The
business of being better than we were yesterday, the business of
raising our families in conscious, loving ways, the business of writing
congress people and senators and joining organizations to make sure
that this country starts to go in the direction we want to see it go
in. We are all going to have to roll up our
sleeves.
Change. Yes, I can say, I have changed. This
victory has changed me. I am full of emotion. I am
full of hope. I feel emboldened. I am doing the work and I will
continue to do it. And I will dream. My dreams no
longer wear even a trace of their old shackles.
One
love,
Ekere
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