Dear Friends,
I woke up this morning with the song “Black Boys on Mopeds” by Sinead O’Conner going through my head. Sadly the song is as relevant as it was the day I first heard it 30 years ago. Today on my birthday, I am trying to understand what happened yesterday in Washington D.C. I trying to make sense of why white people can do whatever they want in my country and folks of color are beaten and killed for just trying to live.
2021 has to be the year that we face uncomfortable truths. This is the year that we have to talk about racism, that we have to talk about poverty, that we have to talk about children that are hungry? Why do rich people get tax credits for their yachts and poor folks can’t deduct their bus fair? Why do poor folks go to jail and people, like the #notmypresidentman, break laws with no repercussions? Why is my city, Baton Rouge, more than 50% people of color and yet more than 90% of the wealth belongs to white people. Why are Rich countries getting all the vaccines and the poor countries are left to suffer. Why can Americas billionaires end world hunger, still be very, very rich, and yet don’t? Why the hell is there a picture of a slave owner on the dollar bill?
We should not be okay with the answers to these questions.. We need to feel so uncomfortable that we have no choice but to change. Children die of hunger in our world everyday. Hold that statement to your heart and live with it, we have no choice but to change. To quote a good man, enough is enough, is enough.
I realize that I must start with myself.
Are we ready?
Love and light and happiness to all my friends,
Christopher
Sinead O’Connor “Black Boys on Mopeds”
Margaret Thatcher on TV
Shocked by the deaths that took place in Beijing
It seems strange that she should be offended
The same orders are given by her
I've said this before now
You said I was childish and you'll say it now
Remember what I told you
If they hated me they will hate you
England's not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It's the home of police who kill black boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that's why I'm leaving
I don't want him to be aware that there's
Any such thing as grieving
Young mother down at Smithfield
Five a.m., looking for food for her kids
In her arms she holds three cold babies
And the first word that they learned was please
These are dangerous days
To say what you feel is to dig your own grave
Remember what I told you
If you were of the world they would love you
England's not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It's the home of police who kill blacks boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that's why I'm leaving
I don't want him to be aware that there's
Any such thing as grieving
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UDuVzDM3C7A