Why I Marched

Saturday, I participated in the 50th Commemorative Anniversary of March on Washington. Friday, I wasn't sure I would go. And, Thursday, I was leaning heavily toward "Ugh, I seriously doubt it." Quite frankly, I didn't see the utility of marching. I didn't want to hit the streets to tell America that things suck for Black folk. Most of us know that our melanin comes infused with a social challenge. I didn't want to sing and chat. We've been doing that since we got here. I didn't want to be involved in a collective, mainly emotional, display. Emotions are fleeting and rarely useful as a political strategy. And, finally,haven't we been marching long enough? No. The way democracy works is that it responds to the voice of the people. And marching, chatting, singing, and shouting quite literally gives voice to our discontent. Things are not "alright" in America and we are still in pursuit of a more perfect union. I think we are headed in the right direction but we still have a ways to go. Without the force of the masses behind them, our political leaders are rendered powerless and hollow. But that's the "thing" isn't it? A march has to be tied to a message not simply a means to an end. A march is a tactic that should be part of a larger strategy. Not the strategy itself. So, after much singing, chatting, picture-taking, and yes, marching, I am challenging myself and my friends to stay the course. To keep demanding a fuller measure of justice. To keep calling for more economic opportunity. To keep to remembering how far we've come. And, yes, to keep marching, because we have so very far to go.