Revolution #154, February 1, 2009
“My mission: to get Revolution newspaper in people’s hands…”
The following letter was written by a Black woman in her late 50s whose son was killed by the police. She traveled from North Carolina to DC to help distribute Revolution at the Inauguration. She arrived at the subway station area at 4 am after the drive from Greensboro through a snow storm. It took four more hours to park, buy tickets, wait for a train and ride in. She hooked up with a Revolution selling team that distributed non-stop until 4 pm in the numbing cold. She kept saying, this is the best thing we’ve ever done! The team got back at 1 am and she wrote this the following day.
To Revolution newspaper:
I am part of history. On January 20, 2009 I traveled to Washington DC with a group of friends, as part of the RCP. My mission: to get Revolution newspaper in people’s hands and tell people about revolution and the possibility of a much better world.
While preparing to go to DC, a niece asked me, “Do you think it’s appropriate to protest the first Black President?” I said, “It’s not personal, but Obama works for and upholds a corrupt and murderous system. It has to be called for what it is.” Other people said, “It’s going to be too cold to stand outside!” My response, “The revolution is like the Pony Express—It won’t be stopped by the weather!”
I tell people that the following is, in part, how I got to DC and to the realization that a revolution is imperative.
I grew up during the 1950s in North Carolina. I remember the “Colored” and “White” signs posted in areas around town. I remember the hated and feared KKK. I remember watching the TV and the fire hoses and attack dogs being put on people. The beat downs, the spitting and other expressions of racism, oppression and hate.
Then there was “hope for change.” There was Dr. King, Malcolm, Rap Brown etc. We were “integrated” and the “Colored” signs came down. However the same old shit continued to happen. The same system continues to enable these atrocities. One in nine Black men are in prison. The police continue to wage rampant murder on citizens daily—with no consequences. There is still war and destruction around the world supported by the United States. In a land of plenty, there is still homelessness and hunger. There is no change!
And with all this, my unarmed son was murdered by law enforcement, while committing no crime. I have no choice but to be a revolutionist!
I am proud to stand in the bone chilling cold telling people about revolution and protesting the atrocities of this utterly worthless system! My incentives are my dead son and all the others from the streets of the U.S. to Gaza, Iraq and everywhere.
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