By: George Gordy
Happy thanksgiving to all of you, this is a time to be grateful to God for everything you have. I know this a late message, but in the midst of all of the festivities, I’ve been a bit distracted. I have a lot to be grateful for in the year 2015: my little nephew being born, surviving depression, and having a family that loves me. Finally getting a break from the craziness of college, and having my siblings come home for the holidays made me happy as well. Though I was sad that my brother Michael couldn’t come home due to job-related commitments, his wife Diamond, and their infant son, Michael Jr, whom I haven’t seen since he was born, came home in his stead; just seeing my nephew made me happy enough, however. He looks just like his father, acts like him too. His smile, his goofy mannerisms, they all remind me of my older brother.
At the same time, however, there is a lot that I am still depressed about. It is the world around me that makes me depressed. Racial tensions are the highest they’ve been since the sixties, unemployment and homelessness run rampant, the American government’s imperialist adventures in the Middle East have created the monster known as ISIS, and it seems that all of these things have created a very chaotic country and world for us all to live in.
The racial tensions, in particular, have been a major source of worry, anger, and depression for me. Within this same week, a protest in Minneapolis over yet another child murdered by the police was attacked by White supremacists. Five people were shot, but, by the grace of God, nobody died. In addition, in Chicago, there have been protests over yet another child killed by police. There are fears that there may be riots over this incident. There have also been protests at the University of Missouri over a series of racially-charged incidents, which led to the school’s president losing his job for failing to protect Black students from the threats and harassment.
These things genuinely make my blood boil. It seems like the world is completely going to shit. So, not only for the sake of my own mental and emotional health, but to remain in a festive mood, I’ve avoided the news. I’ve avoided social media as well. Once Thanksgiving is over, however, it’s back to reality. I know that I will have to face these things once again. I will have to return to my previous state of constant rage over the state of the Black community, the state of American politics, the state of the economy, and the racism and police brutality. However, I feel that something, call it God, fate, destiny, whatever, is convicting me to do something about these injustices.
I have had many sleepless nights, and many restless days, over these thoughts. I’ve been telling myself, “I wish Malcolm X was here.” Slowly, as time has gone on, I’ve realized that Malcolm X is still alive. Not the man, but rather his consciousness, and this consciousness, spirit, or whatever you wish to call it lives inside of me, the current generation of Black warriors screaming “Black lives matter” on the streets, and in all Black people.
I don’t know if it has always been there and something, or someone, woke it up, or if I somehow acquired it. What I do know, however, is that the work that was started all those years ago must be completed. White supremacy is as alive and well in 2015, as it was in 1776. I believe that ours is the generation that will finally defeat it. What makes us unique from previous generations is that we have received the blueprint from our forefathers, and with new inventions like social media, we are able to organize on a far more massive scale. They have left us the torch, so we have taken the torch and we’re running with it. We do not intend on having this torch passed ever again. We will use this torch that has been given to us to burn down the White supremacist structures within America, even burn down this entire country if we have to.
During the holiday, my older brother David, my sister-in-law, and I were having a conversation about Michael Jr. She was telling us how her and her husband would eventually have to have “the talk” with him once he comes of age. Not the “birds-and-bees” talk, but the cops-and-black-people talk. This thought was very disheartening to me because this young boy, who today is smiling, laughing, and crawling around on the floor, will eventually be thrown into a society designed to destroy him simply because of the color of his skin. He will one day have to walk or drive down the street and deal with a police force that criminalizes his Blackness. He will eventually have to deal with an education system designed to keep him in a state of ignorance. I do what I do for him, and I want him to grow up in a better world. I don’t want him to experience what we, and his grandparents, experienced. I will fight for him. We will win.