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You matter.

By:

Billie Tuesday

“We now ask for you rise for the national anthem,” the intercom sirens over the crowd creating a hush over the hundreds of people in the gymnasium. As the anthem filled the building, so did tension. I surveyed over the crowd, looking at fellow rebels’ stone faces. Tired. Fed up. Scared. Fearless. Some did not bother to stand, they were being held down by inequality. The Rocket’s red glare made my heart fall making a sickening thud as the bombs burst into the air. My hands shook violently in excitement. I was about to fight for something that was bigger than me. I was ready to sacrifice. The anthem was now over and so was our acceptance of our cultures being neglected. As the crowd began to applaud the resolution of the anthem, we valiantly marched into our revolution. My body floated down the bleachers onto the hardwood and immersed itself into a sea of silence. My comrades walked quietly not opening their mouths, rather opening their hearts. We sat down. A paralyzing wave fluttered through my body; at that moment, I thought I was frightened. Looking back now that wave was the support of the other students who were over it too. I felt ...no, I was strong. We were strong. The unity was so strong it could lift an elephant but we needed it to be strong enough to lift racism off the campus. I was handed a poster to hold. I unwrinkled the black sheet paper and held one side and we sat there. We sat there verbally silent, but filled the room with noise. Then one of us spoke. They spoke about our hurt. They spoke about how we were done talking. How we would not stand still while they kicked us anymore. We would not allow people to wear our cultures, no us, as a joke.  We would no longer allow them to wear our skin then take it off as they pleased. We would no longer talk about, we were going to be about it. “And we will stand here until the game is canceled.” That triggered it. A fire had been lit under their seats. We had disturbed their peace for our “silly” cause. They started to boo. They sought to delegitimize our cause. They disenfranchised our right to equal treatment. They disenfranchised what our ancestors had fought, no, died for. They disenfranchised the sacrifices we had made to get where we were. Their actions spelled out “fuck your feelings”. That message was heard loud and clear. Loud enough to smash my heart into pieces. Clear enough to cut me internally. I used my poster as a shield as an attempt to block their hate from an ambuscade against my soul. “Today’s game will be canceled.” Checkmate. We had done what we sought out to do. Not to cancel a basketball game but to have our voices heard, to have our actions seen, to have our pain felt. We had won the battle. We let our inaudible voices run. They dance and sang cheered and screamed. We rejoiced because we had finally decided enough is enough. Indeed the battle had been won however, the war was not over yet. As the cheers died, sadness had been born, growing into our hearts. The sadness was quiet, cold, and settle. The gym had been emptied of spectators but their eyes, their words, and their actions had stayed. I realized the world was full of hate, but if hate existed, so did love. Love was also left by some spectators. Love had brought us onto the court. As long as hate would torment, love would make us stronger. Love would be the weapon we used to fight the war against hate. We rejoiced because we had finally decided enough is enough. Love is enough no, we are enough.