"Tauwan, you gotta wear black today."
"What? Oh, for the Jena 6?"
"Yeah."
"Fuck ain't none of my black clothes ironed...."
Just another Thursday morning. I got the undershirt on, but I'm still rocking the pajama shorts. Water's boiling, blinds been turned to let the sun shine in, and the paper has moved from the front lawn to the middle of the kitchen table. Just another gorgeous morning in Southern California.
It was supposed to rain.
The sun is out, [slightly], but it ain't chilly. [yet] I'll rock my Black cardigan just in case. Add a little warmth and show a little solidarity. Just another sunny day in Los Angeles.
And I'm in a good mood as I walk through these streets that make up the region they call South Central to the bus stop to get to that job on the Westside.
Talib's playing in the ear. Cousin Lil Bro put it in his car after much hype from me about how bangin it is. He was finally convinced one day as Hot Thing blasted through the house, prompting him to inquire "yo who this is?" after he realized that he was feeling whatever was reverberating through the house for a good ten, fifteen minutes.
"What you think about that Talib Kweli?"
"Oh it's tight. Definitely feelin it."
Had to put it on.
And as I approached my stop with the rest of the early morning commuters, the clouds began to part slightly, and the sun provided a little more heat. And all around me, on this corner, that corner, this bus stop, that crosswalk, Black teens and a few Hispanic ones waited for their rides, loaded buses, and walked around, clad in black, making a statement for the Jena 6. And all the while I walked, amazed, smiling brightly, sun shining, rocking my black cardigan, listening to Talib Kweli. This song, presented below, hitting my Ear Drum. It felt so right.
And it was.
One love.
Tauwan
No comments:
Post a Comment