Poetic Tongues
by Fabu
by Fabu
I can’t remember ever publicly crying as much as I did on Monday, January 19 during the activities for the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and then
again on Tuesday, January 20 while watching the inauguration of President Barack Obama. At my own parents’ funeral, I was too shocked and stunned to shed a
tear but I’m telling you that I cried long and hard on these two days. I wasn’t ashamed. I didn’t try and hold my tears inside and I wasn’t bothered about who saw
or didn’t see or who wondered why or didn’t care to know why. My tears were from a deep place, inside my racial memories of being Black in America and even
further back, being free in Africa.
I love the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. because I was taught by my family to love him and to appreciate his many sacrifices on behalf of civil and
human rights. I loved him in 1968 and I love him now for living a sacrificial life during his 39 years only to be brutally killed. All my southern family members
loved him, some marched with him in Memphis while others were afraid to lose their jobs but everyone supported his leadership and strategies to bring about
much needed change in the South. Everyone in our family united over Dr. King, which was rare and phenomenal in our large extended family. I was taught to
love Dr. King when I listened to sanitation workers tell of racist oppression, when I saw with my own eyes white people’s hatred of us in Mississippi, Tennessee and
Arkansas, when I heard n----- and curled up as a child because I felt the menace behind the word even when I couldn’t understand the word itself. My love did
not change when I became a scholar and an adult. I’ve read the books, conducted my own personal research in Memphis and I acknowledge Dr. King’s flaws as
a human being. None of his flaws have diminished my love for him and all the men and women who were apart of this movement. I couldn’t know those
thousands of men and women, who fought in the Civil Rights movement, therefore my love centered on Dr. King as a symbol of the many.
When I attended a recent downtown Rotary salute to Dr. King, it included a touching power point presentation organized by Drs. Virginia and Perry
Henderson and a thoughtful speech by Mr. Westley Sparkman. I realize as I listened to him to him state that he wasn’t born when Dr. King lived, that there are
several generations that are adults, born after Dr. King was assassinated. And while they honor him, they can’t possibly feel the love tinged with grief that his
commemorations bring to those who were alive when Dr. King was alive. That was a startling revelation to me. What these generations can feel is the love tinged
with pride that the inauguration of President Barack Obama brings.
When my parents heard the triumphant voice of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. calling out for justice and when they witnessed him standing upright
leading thousands to protest injustice, they loved and admired him because he was doing what very many were afraid to do or had tried to do and were shut up
and shut down. When the youth of today heard the triumphant voice of President Barack Obama saying he would run for President of The United States and
when they witnessed him standing upright leading millions to the polls for change, they too followed him. I am not comparing the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther
King Jr. to our 44th President, Barack Obama because one is an African American leader gone on to his rest, while the other is a global leader with African and
American origins just beginning his world leadership. There is room in our race and in this world for more than one brilliant man.
I just want to say that I cried for the past years of hurt and for the future years of hope on January 19 and 20, 2009. I just want to say that I remembered one
of many great African American leaders, as I celebrated the four-year term of a new great African American leader. I have now dried my tears, and set straight
my vision because it is time to continue the struggle for freedom and justice for all.
again on Tuesday, January 20 while watching the inauguration of President Barack Obama. At my own parents’ funeral, I was too shocked and stunned to shed a
tear but I’m telling you that I cried long and hard on these two days. I wasn’t ashamed. I didn’t try and hold my tears inside and I wasn’t bothered about who saw
or didn’t see or who wondered why or didn’t care to know why. My tears were from a deep place, inside my racial memories of being Black in America and even
further back, being free in Africa.
I love the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. because I was taught by my family to love him and to appreciate his many sacrifices on behalf of civil and
human rights. I loved him in 1968 and I love him now for living a sacrificial life during his 39 years only to be brutally killed. All my southern family members
loved him, some marched with him in Memphis while others were afraid to lose their jobs but everyone supported his leadership and strategies to bring about
much needed change in the South. Everyone in our family united over Dr. King, which was rare and phenomenal in our large extended family. I was taught to
love Dr. King when I listened to sanitation workers tell of racist oppression, when I saw with my own eyes white people’s hatred of us in Mississippi, Tennessee and
Arkansas, when I heard n----- and curled up as a child because I felt the menace behind the word even when I couldn’t understand the word itself. My love did
not change when I became a scholar and an adult. I’ve read the books, conducted my own personal research in Memphis and I acknowledge Dr. King’s flaws as
a human being. None of his flaws have diminished my love for him and all the men and women who were apart of this movement. I couldn’t know those
thousands of men and women, who fought in the Civil Rights movement, therefore my love centered on Dr. King as a symbol of the many.
When I attended a recent downtown Rotary salute to Dr. King, it included a touching power point presentation organized by Drs. Virginia and Perry
Henderson and a thoughtful speech by Mr. Westley Sparkman. I realize as I listened to him to him state that he wasn’t born when Dr. King lived, that there are
several generations that are adults, born after Dr. King was assassinated. And while they honor him, they can’t possibly feel the love tinged with grief that his
commemorations bring to those who were alive when Dr. King was alive. That was a startling revelation to me. What these generations can feel is the love tinged
with pride that the inauguration of President Barack Obama brings.
When my parents heard the triumphant voice of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. calling out for justice and when they witnessed him standing upright
leading thousands to protest injustice, they loved and admired him because he was doing what very many were afraid to do or had tried to do and were shut up
and shut down. When the youth of today heard the triumphant voice of President Barack Obama saying he would run for President of The United States and
when they witnessed him standing upright leading millions to the polls for change, they too followed him. I am not comparing the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther
King Jr. to our 44th President, Barack Obama because one is an African American leader gone on to his rest, while the other is a global leader with African and
American origins just beginning his world leadership. There is room in our race and in this world for more than one brilliant man.
I just want to say that I cried for the past years of hurt and for the future years of hope on January 19 and 20, 2009. I just want to say that I remembered one
of many great African American leaders, as I celebrated the four-year term of a new great African American leader. I have now dried my tears, and set straight
my vision because it is time to continue the struggle for freedom and justice for all.