As many of you did, I spent much of
last night watching this season’s first Democratic Party Presidential Debate. I was extended, and accepted an opportunity
to attend and participate in a Focus Group to discuss the Debate. Instead of creating a post after viewing the
debate, I chose instead to repost a story I logged a year ago.
On Friday we will observe the 20th
Anniversary of the Million Man March.
Last year I wrote about what I felt the MMM represented for my
generation, from my perspective, of course.
A natural query to pose is, “But
what about the March this past weekend; why not focus on that one?” It is a fair question. The same controversial leader, Minister Louis
Farrakhan, who was a central figure in the 1995 March was at the forefront of
last Saturday’s Million Man March for Justice or Else; the Washington Mall
facing the Capitol was the same location, and tens, if not hundreds of
thousands of people, mostly blacks, assembled from all across the country.
All of that is true. What is also true is I did not attend this
past weekend’s event. I chose to reprise
the 1995 March because of my personal connection to memories of that
March. To that end, what follows is the
unedited post from October 15, 2014, titled as above.
Tomorrow will mark the 19th
Anniversary of the Million Man March (MMM).
Before moving to the narrative, I know there are those who are disturbed
that I would deign to conflate or equate The 1963 March on Washington for Jobs
and Freedom; the March of A. Phillip Randolph, of Bayard Rustin, and of the
Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I
understand completely, and that is not what I’m doing.
On August 27th and 28th,
1963, I was nine years old. My
participation came courtesy of my vantage point, seated in front of our 19-inch
Black & White TV. It was
informative, and inspiring, but it was not in-person (for me). Rustin, Randolph, King, and their
co-participants and contemporaries, through their actions, reframed the
trajectory of the landscape of American society, as we knew it. All of us are forever in their debt…each and
every one of us. If you are an American
today, whether you were born by then, or lived here at that time, if you are
here now, you are obliged to credit, or blame if you choose, them for the
country we have become.
By October 16, 1995, I was
forty-something. I had been aware of the
planning and development of the Million Man March from its early stages. From the outset, I was committed that this
time, I would be fully present and accounted for. This time, timing was on my side. I actually had a job that made it not only
acceptable, but also desirable to be there.
I went, on my own aegis, not for work.
But with a job title, Minority Affairs Director, I had no doubt; it was
meant for me to be there.
Most of the rest of this post will
be devoted to a verbatim recounting of an essay I wrote about my first person
experience attending the March. The
essay was one of three that appeared in the November 1995 Edition of OUTLOOK
(Vol. 26 No. 11), the Newsmagazine for employees of Mecklenburg County,
NC. All three were captured under the
broad heading, “Reflections on the Million Man March.”
Here’s my essay:
For me, this event was at once a
culmination and a commencement.
Nearly a year ago Minister Louis
Farrakhan spoke here in Charlotte and announced plans for a Million Man March
to be held in Washington, D.C. I left
the Convention Center that evening committed to be at the March. My interest and enthusiasm culminated with my
participation on Monday, October 16, 1995.
The March also was the point of
commencement for the strategies and action to create positive and deeply rooted
change in the social fabric of our individual communities and in the entire
nation.
Though estimates of the actual
attendance are in dispute, whether the number was 400,000 or more than a
million, the turnout was epic. By the
former measure, it is the largest civil rights rally in the history of this
country; the latter would make it simply the largest gathering ever on the
Washington Mall.
Being there was to be engulfed by
the spirit of the moment; surrounded by a sea of positively focused
humanity. It was an endeavor whose
moment had come. It had to be done!
The day was characterized by its
organizers as a time for collective atonement, reconciliation, responsibility,
and absence: atonement for having been AWOL from familial responsibility;
reconciliation to the women, children, families, and communities that had been
abandoned; responsibility for our own actions and the consequences of those
actions; and absence from normal daily employment and consumption (buying)
patterns. These steps underscore the
seriousness of our circumstances, and provide a vehicle to penetrate the
nation’s consciousness. (Mission
accomplished).
Minister Farrakhan and the Reverend
Benjamin Chavis are correctly viewed as principal symbols of “The March.” They played central roles in conceiving and
organizing the effort. In the final
analysis however, “The March” belonged to THE PEOPLE. No one, two, or twenty individuals could
adequately represent the total spectrum of this undertaking. It spanned wide ranges of economy, geography,
religion, politics, ideology, age, gender, disability, and general point of
view. African-Americans united to
respond to the beleaguered condition of people…not against anyone.
Speaker after speaker – Maya
Angelou, Charles Rangel, Kwaisi Mfume, Jesse Jackson, Rosa Parks, Jawanza
Kunjufu, John Conyers, Stevie Wonder, Tynnetta Muhammad, Kurt Schmoke, Marion
Berry, Benjamin Chavis, and Louis Farrakhan – in their own way, challenged and
urged those in attendance, those watching at home (or at work) and those who
would later hear about it, to work together to heal our society.
Minister Farrakhan specifically
outlined several steps that participants should take, including:
1. Register to
vote and actively
work to make sure others do;
2. Affiliate
with an organization(s)
focused on improving the Black Community;
3. Join a
church, synagogue,
mosque, etc., and put your religion to work in the community;
4. Adopt one
of the 25,000 black children
waiting for adoption;
5. Develop a
relationship with a prisoner
and help that person in their transition to life after prison;
6. Establish a
black United Fund to help our
communities.
These steps alone will not alleviate
all the problems we face. But if these
measures are adopted, we will have taken one giant step forward.
Those of us assembled on the Mall on
Monday, October 16, 1995 were prayerful, powerful, respectful, and
reverent. More importantly, we were
inspired by having been there, and we left committed to begin, continue, or
accelerate our personal efforts to implement solutions to the trenchant social
problems we face in our communities. I’m
ready to do my part.
Peace!
That’s my story and I’m sticking to
it. Arguably, a dozen years before I
conceived and introduced The Sphinx of Charlotte/Break It Down, this essay was
my very first blog. Who knew? Now, you do.
I hope you enjoyed this narrative version of Throw Back Thursday
(remember, tomorrow is the anniversary), brought to you on Wednesday. So there you have it, “A Look Back at the MMM: My Generation’s March on Washington!”
I’m done; holla back!
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