Like Running Trying To Live

When We Heard About The Hippies, The Barely More Than Boys And Girls Who Decided To Try Something Different ... We Laughed At Them. We Condemned Them, Our Children, For Seeking A Different Future. We Hated Them For Their Flowers, For Their Love, And For Their Unmistakable Rejection Of Every Hideous, Mistaken Compromise That We Had Made Throughout Our Hollow, Money-bitten, Frightened, Adult Lives

Reproductive Choice Is Not Some Trendy Item To Toss Or Keep Around The House. If You Cannot Get An Education Or A Job, If You Cannot Choose What Will Or Will Not Happen With Your Own Body, Then What Freedom Do You Have?

There Is A Man Who Exists As One Of The Most Popular Objects Of Leadership, Legislation, And Quasi-literature In The History Of All Men. . . . This Man, That Object Of Attention, Attack, And Vast Activity, Cannot Make Himself Be Heard, Let Alone Understood. He Has Never Been Listened To. . . . That Man Is Black And Alive In White America Where The Media Of Communication Do Not Allow The Delivery Of His Own Voice, His Own Desires, His Own Rage.

Maybe The Purpose Of Being Here, Wherever We Are, Is To Increase The Durability And Occasions Of Love Among And Between Peoples.

South Africa Used To Seem So Far Away. Then It Came Home To Me. It Began To Signify The Meaning Of White Hatred Here. That Was What The Sheets And The Suits And The Ties Covered Up, Not Very Well. That Was What The Cowardly Guys Calling Me Names From Their Speeding Truck Wanted To Happen To Me, To All Of Me: To My People. That Was What Would Happen To Me If I Walked Around The Corner Into The Wrong Neighborhood. That Was Birmingham. That Was Brooklyn. That Was Reagan. That Was The End Of Reason. South Africa Was How I Came To Understand That I Am Not Against War; I Am Against Losing The War.