It was then that I looked at the faces of the people around me some couldn’t be older than sixteen, and some as old as the speaker, or older.
But his passion was clear in his speech as he declared that we were not the first to fight for our rights, and we will not be the last: he was protesting in the streets back in his early adulthood, the same way we were today. The speaker was an older Black man, the weariness of the movement evident in his face and in the way he leaned against a streetlamp for support. Sign up for our newsletter to get submission announcements and stay on top of our best work.Īfter several grueling hours of protesting against systemic injustice (no one can prepare you for long hours on your feet, long hours screaming for recognition of your humanity), we stood with our signs tucked safely under our arms as the organizer introduced some parting words.
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