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Generations

"Malcolm "

I saw Public Enemy perform in '89.

I saw Louis Farrakhan speak in '90.

I read Malcolm’s autobiography long before Spike Lee inspired urban youth to don “X” caps.

I read Eldridge Cleaver. I listened to KRS-One. I wore Fila sneakers and bathed in Hip Hop culture.

I could recite the tenets of the Black Panther party.

I winced at political incorrect comments.

I argued in favor of affirmative action.

I favored quotas.

I felt shame for the pain inflicted on Black America by my fellow white devils.

I wallowed in cultural guilt.

I would defend any pro-black statement. And argue with anyone who downplayed racial inequality in our country.

At some point I realized it was not my fight.

True, the world is unfair.

And history is littered with injustice.

But I am not a black man. And nobody asked me to stick up for them.

In the end, dignity must be seized. It cannot be a handout.

Regardless of how much the world has stacked upon him, every man must stand up on his own.

It doesn’t empower someone to fight their battle.

 


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