I Had A Nightmare
Ten score years ago, a white man, in whose symbolic shadow we stand, thought he did us a favor by making privatized slavery illegal unless we were public property of the United States Prison System. This momentous decree came as a false hope to millions of Negro slaves who had no idea their great, great grandchildren would still be seared in the flames of withering injustice by the Big Dolla White Man. Little did they know, their bliss of ignorant daybreak would not put an end to the long night of their generational captivity.
But one hundred and fifty years later, the Negro is still not free where a white man’s home is free and his privilege is audaciously brave.
One hundred and fifty years later, the life of a Negro is still sadly crippled by the ego of white supremacists, the anti-blackness of non-black moderates, and the chains of generational, internal oppression.
One hundred and fifty years later, Negroes are still being subjected to poverty and low-income challenges despite being the oil of economic and cultural wealth of white-operated countries.
One hundred and fifty years later, the Negro is still treated like a trespasser in their own country despite us being kidnapped, tortured, and murdered by our trespassers.
And so we’ve come here today to be the judge and jury.
I had a dream... that turned into a nightmare.
Where lil’, white gals would grow up to fetishize black men for the color of their skin and not for the content of their character.
I had a dream... that turned into a nightmare
Of my brothers and sisters being murdered in cold blood by Ku Klux Klansmen who wore their hatred on red caps and blue uniforms.
The spirit of America embedded in the fabric of the flag: white folk wearing red caps and blue uniforms.
I had a dream... that turned into a nightmare
Where white moderates and foolish coons would use my death as a Jesus crucifix.
As if my death paid for the sins of white folk clean off their hands from the blood of my people.
I had a dream... that turned into a nightmare
That one day on the blue hills of Georgia, the sons and daughter of formerly enslaved Negros would watch in fear as the sons and daughters of former slave owners disowned and cursed the very country they hide behind.
I had a dream... that turned into a nightmare
That the very folk that fought so hard to segregate us would fight so hard to engulf us till our culture and our people become no more than #SayHerName & “I Can’t Breathe” paraphernalia for the white moderate.
I had a dream…
That we fought hard and long for integration, as I believe we should have, and I knew that we would inevitably win.
But I've come to believe that we’ve integrated into a burning house.
Screaming in agony from the flames of oppression,
“Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty! Free at last!”
