Early this morning I was up wishing folks a Happy King Day. Hailing from Georgia and all, King day has always been big. In fact, that’s an understatement. Parades. Programs. Ceremonies. If you were Black, you reached back–and remembered the dream.
A friend and I were remembering this morning how things were before the holiday became national. She and her sisters one year wore a black t-shirt to school in SC that said, “I Have a Dream.” Of course, this prompted plenty of convo with the white classmates and turned into a teachable moment. I remember how even though the holiday wasn’t recognized nationally, all the Black kids in Savannah either skipped school or the parents pulled them out and we all went to the requisite parade, Civic Center program, church services and every other program the “Black city” held that day. My mother’s justification was that if the city could shut down and close school for the all-white St. Patrick’s Day parade and drunken celebration, there was no way she was sending her Black child to school on a day that should’ve been a local holiday as well. And she dared any teacher or administrator to challenge her about it.
Shoot, it was prestigious to be the young child who won the theme contest for the parade. In addition to a piece of money and press coverage, you got to ride in the parade. And everybody had to look nice, especially as the parade went through the projects of Black Savannah. After all, we had a dream to represent. Something to stand for.
But those were the days before crime took over the city and crack became the new kool.aid. Before the Ricky Givens gang made SAV a household name in the crime underworld. Before we’d ever heard of the notorious Miami Boys drug ring. Before peaceful citizens began being shot in parks for gang initiation. Before Ms. Savannah made national news for being a Black beauty queen in an all-white contest who shot her Black boyfriend for cheating on her. A sensational “crime of passion.” Before Midnight in the Garden of Evil became a fanatic tourism draw. Before Forrest Gump immortalized a box of chocolate in Forsyth Park. That was back when the Black community felt like we still had something left to fight for, no matter how symbolic.
But today, in this time of pseudo racial harmony (since we’ve left “real” racism in the 60’s), when the King holiday is finally legalized and recognized across the 50 states, we are free to stay home. We may curl up and turn over in our beds and really dream a dream. Some of us are still free to go in to yet another day at work. And in our late stage capitalist society, we are free to join the department stores and commemorate the King legacy with a sale–the only state where we are truly all equal.
After all, isn’t that what my uncles marched for? What one died for? What my grandmother cried for? What my father busted rednecks upside the head for? What my auntie cleaned and scraped behind white folks for to help pay for her kids’ educations? So they could afford to dream a sale? So her grandkids could be free to drop out at will? Free to fill the local and state prisons? Free to think welfare is a pension plan and food stamps like poker chips? Free to be educated and forget those who came before? Free to forget they are descendants of the people who refused to die in this great home of the free and land of the brave? Free to fight for freedom abroad when Katrina exposed that Blacks still aren’t free at home?
Free at last. Free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last.
Long live the Dream. Peace and power.
NLC
It seems to me that, the importance of Dr. King’s sacrifice is definitely fading amongst our and future generations. It seems we have lost our fight to pursue equality for the almighty bling. Many children look to Hip-Hop stars and athletes for idol-try instead of there parents, if they even have parents who are involved in their lives. Our athletes and stars no longer stand for anything but how much wealth they have as they glorify money, and objectify our women. Once when Hip-Hop was young we had intelligent artist vividly describing our conditions and feelings. While now there are only a handful of artists willing to take such risks. I’m worried about the future to come, Generation X has forgotten, and Generation Y could care less. Our future generations rather serve there own self interests than anything else. However, as many new college graduates prefer Public service than corporate positions there are some promising signs yet. I only hope when press our young that while riches are fine, it is also what you give back that counts.
Comment by Baron — January 18, 2006 @ 1:31 p
Well it’s now three years later and in the beginning of economic depression. Still this newest generation not only don’t care much for yesterdays heroes, but are unanimous across all racial barriers that getting the latest tech is really what it’s all about. They’re equal now and they have nothing to do with what brought em here. There are a lot of barriers to break down for all of us, I just don’t se the fight coming from them maybe a new economy with new barriers like say tech edu.
Hi Shane! Welcome and thanks for stopping by. Occasionally, I become optimistic about the next generation, but only in trickles. If (when) the economic crisis worsens, I think the youngins will hear a wake up call. Things look grim, but we are never without hope.
Comment by Shane — April 11, 2009 @ 1:31 p