The journey has not been black and white, it has been black or white.
In shapes and sounds we are different but in flesh and blood we are the same. My suffering is your suffering. My hurt is your pain.
On our shoulders we find burden. A heavy generational weight that has split the journey of an Americas that looks and feels so different. In our clothes we shouldn’t feel so contrasting. We may be clothed in garments necessary for the movement, but the attention to detail is different.
Shouldn’t your happiness be my joy? Isn’t your peace my steady rock? My reflection deserves a chance. As we share this house one room should not be more spectacular than the other.
This notion that our experiences are the same is false.
There is a wall of separation that must come down. Together my neighbors and I of every hue are gearing up for travel. We’ve decided the house has lost it’s foundational purpose. It cannot support our life or even our wardrobe. You are dressed for the ball, and I……..well I am dressed for exile.
For vibrancy and richness, equity and equality, I cannot and shall not remain the same.
I ask that you take my hand and walk with me over the bridge, down the valley and up the mountain. I would like your presence near. In the collective, we can move in record speed, but in pieces we could shatter.
I hope you’ll decide today, but if not we will not wait. We deserve the same closet in a house that was built for us all.
#idasangel