Onward

Toshi Reagon, musician and daughter of the great Bernice Johnson Reagon (of Sweet Honey in the Rock and general folk-singer fame), posted this to Facebook last night:

I just called my mom to say sweet dreams. I asked her what was she doing - she said she was watching the news. I'm like don't watch that it's bad. Supreme Court bad. 19th century Supreme Court bad. She said - with so much air and grace in her voice, Well child, my work is based in the struggle and liberation of our people during slavery. What do you think they can tell me about it? -HA!

We have been keeping company on this land with each other for a long time and for most of the time we have created a horrific balance. If you know that you are not these horrible people - Rejoice! Pick one small job for tomorrow if you are feeling wobbly. There is so much to do - but do something. Then next hour day do it again. Do it!

They are not expecting you to rise. Blow their minds with your bright light.

Which reminded me of Fannie Lou Hamer, whose song was "This Little Light of Mine." Today is her birthday. She would have been 101 years old.

And it also made me think of Maya Angelou's poem, Still I Rise:

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.