On Anger: We Have a Right

“I’m tired of praying. We’ve been praying and we still get gunned down”

“These people will cry about a lion getting killed but won’t blink when a boy is gunned down in a park”

“Tell me what have we ever done to them?”

“Can we live?

“Do you read the comments? They hate us. They really hate us.”

joe walsh_o9zcow
And this is from a man who was an elected official. Real America…

I do read the comments and the commentaries from the likes of filth like Joe Walsh and Fox News. I read them when I know I shouldn’t, when I know that my heart will grow angry and my head will cloud with hate. I keep telling myself I am better than them. I am. We are.

And yet we have a right to be angry. When a lion gets more sympathy than Tamir Rice we should be angry. We are not hateful. We are not burning people’s homes down or terrorizing their children and yet they keep telling us we deserve their hate because we want equality.

We shouldn’t have to keep explaining to people what inequality means when there is clear evidence all over the internet of the two Americas.  We shouldn’t have to explain that racism is real when Joe Walsh, an ex-congressman, can spew hate and call out the real Americans to destroy us. Note that he was on CNN the very same night spewing his hate after he basically threatened the President of the United States. Funny how Ted Nugent and he get away with that all the time.

Terrorist aren’t born they are made.

Terrorist aren’t born they are made.


Let America be America Again
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all the songs we’ve sung
And all the hopes we’ve held
And all the flags we’ve hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay–
Except the dream that’s almost dead today.O, let America be America again–
The land that never has been yet–
And yet must be–the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine–the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME–
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose–
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,
We must take back our land again,

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath–
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain–
All, all the stretch of these great green states–
And make America again!


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