Revolution

woosa

“Being a revolutionary means possibly dieing for what you believe. There have been too many martyrs to deny this statement.”




Watching Motorcycle Diaries resonated within my very root. I cried. Began questioning my own self as to my revolutionary fist. It's in me; replicated in my DNA. Black folk and our division and ignorance has shaken our diamond and gold foundations to mere dust and we need re-vamping. “Unification!” How else can a people survive? I write about it.
In my neighborhood there are the black who fade their skin in hopes of a yellow ting; extending hair beyond the parameters of realistic, neglecting self, education deprived, teen pregnancy and risk taking with HIV/AIDS stats at a staggering high . We have lost sight. I write about it.
This also explains my attraction to Rhymefest a.k.a El Che rapper, activist, writer, lyricist, innovator and I mean that as humbly as I can muster. He is a productive brother with a cause! That is to be appreciated and commended in an industry where rappers are pimps and there followers.. well you get the picture. Rhymefest put me onto Motorcycle Dairies with his El Che handle. It puzzled me so I sought clarity and rented the movie. As the credits flashed at the right bottom of the television screen I understood Rhymefest’s quest and had a idea of what his music and cause meant to him. I want the same for me. I write about it.
Writing what I know means to me as justification for the Inca people meant to Fuser. Wherever one finds themselves pulled, propelled to make a positive change; there is the beginning of a revolution. Perhaps my words could spur a people to re-examine their position considering all things reverberating necessary changes. Black folk; a great people of culture and deep roots severe these ties because they are to black. There needs to be an El Che in all of us. It’s there. REVOLUTION!