But then I remember the many times I sat at the feet of legendary activist Harry Belafonte and listened to his firsthand accounts of the civil rights movement - the struggle, the pain, the failures, the sacrifice, the betrayals, the loneliness - I try to let it re-center me.
My generation is not unique, we are still fighting as people of color, immigrants, Black people and other marginalized folks to be heard, to be embraced by our country to not have to fight for what we deserve. Yet here we are still fighting for voting rights, immigrant rights, criminal justice, housing and access to be healed when we are sick whether we are rich or poor.
We are still burying bodies killed at the hands of police, stripping families apart because someone doesn’t have the right paper, funding nations who commit human rights atrocities.
My soul is tired but my heart believes that better days are possible because that’s what Harry Belafonte tells us (aka Mr. B ) and so this inner conflict toils on and the work continues, the question is for how long and how hard do we really have to fight?
Sending love to every activist and organizer whose soul is tired. I see you. I love you.