Our generation was part of an awakening,
an explosion of consciousness.
We survived the public assassinations
of two Kennedys, a King and a man
called X. The killings of peaceful marchers
and innocent little girls at Sunday School
charred what remained of our innocence;
In our high school civics class,
we debated right and wrong, while
Tricky Dick lied from the oval office.
We watched his presidency unravel
with the push of a tape recorder’s button.
Meanwhile, ol’ glory waved above the
White House;
A voice crackled over the school intercom,
one day, “Go straight home, ‘cause they’re
rioting in the area.” We bolted through our
neighborhood, startled by ‘Burn baby burn’
slogans, spray painted on the front of the
corner market, that had sold us penny candy
that morning;
Ran home, anxious to talk to our parents, only
to be greeted with scowling faces, as they sat
watching news reports of sons, nephews,
and boys from up the street, fighting for
the freedom of others in Vietnamese jungles;
My silent protest, in response to fearful events
abroad and those at home, was to rip down
teen magazine cutouts of The Brady Bunch
that I’d scotch taped to my bedroom wall,
and replace them with free Angela Davis posters;
Likewise, I let my hair grow free, and nappy
as unsheared sheep fleece. Afro as bulbous
as Angela’s – similarly signifying respect.
Hell, even James Brown stopped putting lye
in his hair, as did BB King, and even Sammy,
after a while;
Our country’s musical taste spoke the unrest
in lyrics, such as, “Hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look what’s going down.” Motown
disrupted its young-love ballads with songs of
uncertainty like, Marvin’s What’s Going On,
and The Temptations’ Ball of Confusion.
The godfather of soul sang, “Say it loud,
I’m black and I’m proud.” I think I wore
the grooves off that 45;
When Stokely Carmichael raised his fist, jarring
White America’s vainglory, with a proclamation
of Black Power, it was an unprecedented
moment of recognition and pride, especially
for brown-skinned teenagers like me;
Our generation boomed with babies born
in the peaceful aftermath of World War Two. We
teethed on the passage of Brown versus The Board
of Education, we were swaddled with The Civil
Rights Bill, and we reached maturation with passage
of The Equal Rights Amendment;
When our generation came of age in the turbulent ‘70s,
our eyes were opened early – and wide. The ideals
of equality and social justice were sutured in our
young minds;
The voices of our generation are older now,
perhaps even snippy with age, but never silent
in the fight for human rights. Never fooled by
self-centered entitlement masked as societal
enhancement. We can clearly see it’s one step forward,
ten steps back. But ours is a generation inherent
with the dreams of Martin, the moral compass
of Jimmy, and the righteous indignation of Gloria.
Fires at our back propel us forward