Revolutionary Intent

There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole.

There is nothing about your condition here in America that is an accident.
- Malcolm X

When asked about the face of Jesus being absent from the stain glass window of the 16th Street Baptist Church, Baldwin replied, “ If Christ has no face , then perhaps it is time that we , who in no way or another, invented and are responsible for our deities, give him a new face…and make...the whole hope of Christian love a reality"

A theology that focuses upon one's eternal salvation while remaining staunchly indifferent to dehumanizing rhetoric and systems is violent.

When the master gave the slave his (the master's God) God, for a long time it meant that it was difficult to disentangle religious experience from slavery sanction.
- Howard Thurman

Let America Be America Again - Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home—
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay—
Except the dream that's almost dead today.
O, let America be America again—
The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine—the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The r**e and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again!

When compassion becomes commodified only those with privilege find justice.

The construction of community is a structural, intentional and sacred form of resistance.

Since the individual does not succeed or fail in a vacuum but succeeds or fails in a social system, the social system must be taken into consideration when we evaluate individual success and failure. This implies the possibility that the social structure itself may be principally responsible for the success of some and failure of others.
-Amos Wilson

So in all serenity my answer is that there are too many idiots on this earth.
- Frantz Fanon

Trying to produce a reconcillatory ethos in a white supremacist environment is a tool of evangelicalism. It is a ploy to keep Black folks from protecting themselves by any means necessary while white supremacist abuse them in the name of (g)od. Therefore, prayer is no longer a revolutionary tool used for liberation but a subversive apparatus of bo***ge.

Dr. Cone was right: "...a just community cannot be created in an atmosphere of hate and violence."

In Jesus and the Disinherited, Thurman unearths a Christianity that is useless for the oppressed, disenfranchised, and marginalized as aimless banter used to further one's own oppression. He is clear that salvation without a detachment from the evil hand of racism, Jim Crow and white supremacy becomes a functional hamster wheel of destruction.