I give a damn


Around this time last year I was introduced to an organization that seemed to holler in mass choir back through time to the dominant culture in Mississippi in 1964 as it pains them more by the progress of the offing than it pained those that died or had loved ones killed with mitigating schadenfreude derived from the progress we seem straddle along a spectrum of gain to loss tug. We sometimes misjudge the silence as evil that shall remain silent. until the bodies of Black people run the black and white rapidly decreasing pitch in an even faster descending scale in a dirge it sickens me know more by seeing than hearing it melancholic tone. Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner wore the physical representation of a principle. You can’t kill a principle or stomp on light once what’s shone is in more eyes than none.Some how the collaborative force stregthend by the disparate energies of Rustin, King, Evers, X, Hansberry Baldwin, Hampton, Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner intersecting at the nexus if freedom humanity justice and God can not will not coalesce into an unstoppable force. I can’t image Mr.Baldwin sitting at a table with Dr.King and Mr.X having equal footing and agency in their collaborative fight against the systems the oppress in a a necropolitical state. It seems like as each stakeholder in freedom was driven back into the interest specific to them alone that the overarching intersecting interest exceeded each individual grasp as individual general scraps lay at feet not half a reach and grapsable just from one’s home.

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