As I laid out my dark shades, beret, and leather jacket, I sang along with Nina Simone's Silk & Soul, Consummation. "Let my soul rest at peace, at last it is done." One of my favorites.. Her voice was as smooth as aged wine; as sweet as honey. I could listen to her all day. Glancing out the window, I could see my brothers and sisters beginning to line up outside. I slid on my shades, adjusted my beret, and tied up my combat boots. I was ready. I grabbed my sign, opened the front door, and marched outside. Hundreds of black leather jackets glistening in the sun, a united front. My brothas, my sistas, we were ready.
M-L-K! M-L-K! My throat was beginning to hurt but I wouldn't dare let it stop me from chanting his name. April 4, 1968, in Memphis. Another brother shot down for standing up for what he believed in. A tear rolled down my face at the thought of his death. I'll be damned if I die before standing up for my beliefs. I continue shouting out his name. I begin thinking about brother Bobby. Same age, Same race. That could've been me.. I begin spreading the word, telling everyone to shout Bobby Hutton next. Bobby! Hutton! Bobby! Hutton! We shouted in unison. We shouted to pay our respects. I'm sure we were loud enough to be heard in heaven. We had to be..
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She-Panther
Historical FictionTravel with Taniyah Smith on her journey to becoming fearlessly unapologetic when it comes to going head to head with anyone who has a problem with blackness.
