When I lived on campus I was enthralled with all things civil rights. I even had my chapter of NAACP’s number in my phone. Speed dial six to be exact and aptly titled too seeing as though biblically six is the number of man. Anyway, I think because I was immersed in the very things that my textbook spoke about. Being on such a diverse campus I didn’t have the luxury to not know what was going on and pretend like I did. My racial counterparts drove me and challenged me to know more and do more. Now that I’m at another school (an HBCU) I’ve noticed that that I’ve gotten numb to all things civil. Not dumb to them though. I still see and hear what’s going on but I don’t jump up and do things about it like I used to. This is not a reflection of the HBCU at all. It is a reflection of me. See, being a black woman on campus is not a rarity for me anymore so my plight has changed a bit. Well, so I thought.
Last night Troy Davis’ ruling convicted me. Initially, I was stunned and didn’t really react but later on that night I was restless. I sat up in my bed and looked over at my husband as he slept and something inside me said “…and that was one ruling, what makes you think YOUR Troy Davis is safe?”. Scared the hell out of me. Literally. After that I went into the other room and read some scriptures to try and settle my spirit. Lo and behold, I come across Psalm 10:1-18 (look it up, it’s too long to type). Reading that calmed me down for a bit…until I saw another interview with the mother of the police officer who Troy Davis was convicted of killing. Feeling the pain of losing her son you would think that her heart would go out to Troy Davis’ mother a little but no, the way she carried it she might as well have tied the syringe around Troy’s arm to initiate the injection. Needless to say by this point I turned off the TV. My vision was blurred I was so angry. I realized my anger would do nothing at this point. The innocent man was pronounced dead hours ago and while his soul soared, I was unsettled by a saddistic Judicial system. My anger would do nothing if I carried on like this. Troy Davis’ life was worth more than an emotion and I’d be a fool to confine his fight to just that. So instead of complaining and being bitter I am going back to the time where fighting for the rights of others was second nature to me. I can’t just sit back and shake my head about things anymore. I’d rather turn the direction of the heads of our government.
Anger turned activism.
