assignment 2

assignment 2 - Wendy Zeng AMST 252: Black Social Movements...

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Wendy Zeng AMST 252: Black Social Movements in the U.S Robin Kelley Essay #2 6 November 2007 Adentre Ciudad de La Habana On the eastern shore of Bacuranao where the locals come out to stroll along the white-sanded beach overlooking the busy Via Blanca highway, i sit anxiously waiting for his arrival. i come here often to watch the people. The kids are my favorite; the way they run and play reminds me a hint of freedom. No, not ‘reminds,’ because i never knew what freedom was. I can only tell you what freedom isn’t. But seeing the kids’ innocent smiling faces transcends me through all my worldly troubles. I remember when i was a kid running around just like them but i always had an agenda. I felt a sense of obligation as an ambassador for the Afrikan Amerikans. I felt as if it were my responsibility to prove to white people that they held wrong notions about my people and that we can be educated and well-mannered. I saw him from a distance. Dressed in a soft linen white shirt and thin suit pants that flowed with the cool breeze sporting a tan straw sunhat, Ivory Perry slowly made his way down the beach towards my direction. Under that straw hat was a face squinting to the sun’s rays in his eyes. When he squints, his entire face wrinkles up and each wrinkle tells a story of a struggle. Each line on his face is connected to the next just like how each struggle shares a common goal that connects them all together. As he made his way closer, i was filled with fixed feelings. Part of me was excited and looking forward to
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Zeng 2 speaking with some from back home but another part of me was full of anxieties and nervousness about meeting this stranger. I had read of his struggles and felt familiar emotions but talking with men about their struggle always had its challenges; they were always so gung-ho about their manhood often overlooking what we black women go through during it all. We have two strikes against us. “Hi, you must be Assata. Hope I didn’t have you waiting long.” He said. I replied, “No, i’ve only been here just a few minutes. How do you like it here?” “Ah, the weather is nice. The cool ocean breeze sure beats the scorching sun of the south. I remember the summer of 1965. It was a hot day in July and I was with CORE in Bogalusa Louisiana trying to integrate a supermarket that did not hire black employees. The weather was very uninviting; we were all prisoners of the all encompassing heat waves that made the sweat stream down our bodies and made us dizzy during its highest. I went out that day, knowing I could die but I didn’t care you know? I knew I would die eventually anyways, might as well do it for the betterment of our people. I was just another face in the crowd but every face counts. There is something powerful about crowds. When we all stood strong walking into such a life-threatening situation, fear was no longer an obstacle to overcome but a matter of the past. At that
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assignment 2 - Wendy Zeng AMST 252: Black Social Movements...

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