In my lifetime I've experienced the affect of Dr. King's and Malcolm X's assassinations. I watched, as many others, the Rodney King verdict and what ensued. I cried as Nelson Mandela walked out of prison. I jumped for joy at the vision of the "Million Man March."
More recently, my heart is numbed on a daily basis as black men are systematically executed for the crime of "breathing." I am bewildered by how my ancestors survived the atrocities of slavery, yet paradoxically elated and proud that they had.
Today I sat for hours in front on my television mesmerized as I witnessed history yet again. The opening of the National Museum of African American History and Culture. I witnessed the first Black President of the United States ring a bell that resounded globally. I watched as this man opened the doors of a building that houses the very soul of America.
Out if nowhere I sobbed uncontrollably. It was a deep painful sob that I obviously kept buried. People cry for many reasons. We cry when we're happy and we cry when we're sad... But when we are in pain... We sob.
I pray that my deeds, no matter how small, make a difference. I pray for my race. I pray for humanity.
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