IMAGINE
By Malica Martin

Imagine growing up in a world where you are constantly reminded that another group of people were inferior to those you belonged to. Not because they are more educated, not because they have some greater God given talent, not even because they have better looks, but because their skin had a different pigment than your own. For centuries, your ancestors endured unthinkable torture in order to ensure a better existence for you. For years, you join in on the battle for freedom. How powerful would your people become now that you've broken down these walls of shame? How great would it be to see how your march for freedom allows your lineage to wake up without the same racial attacks and fears you endured? On the other hand, what if the majority of those to come did nothing with your fight? What if they claimed to care but showed no appreciation? You had greats like Dr. Martin Luther King to follow; just imagine the amazing individuals that would come about in the future generation now that you have broken the barriers for them. What if these amazing individuals you have helped to create never gain the respect and protection of their peers the way you protected your heroes? They never get the chance to blossom due to the fact that your children and your children's children would rather dwell in the negatives of the past instead of the positives. They would rather follow in the footsteps of those who spread negative, uneducated messages. Would it be their faults that they have fallen deeper into the slave mentality than the slaves themselves? Who will finally take the burden of creating a more united world off of your shoulders? Who would give you a glimpse of hope before you pass through the thresholds of the earth into the heavens?
Imagine. I was born in Brooklyn New York and raised in the battered streets of Duhaney Park in Kingston Jamaica. My grandmothers committed themselves to creating a brighter future for those they called their own. My grandparents found a way to make it out of "the streets" and take the neighborhood with them to their idea of paradise. Some call it the "land of freedom," my ancestors just called it "foreign." After years of blood, sweat and tears, my grandparents brought my parents to foreign which began a new cycle of battles. Imagine, my grandmother cleaned houses, cooked, and washed peoples clothes for pennies. Her employees showed her their appreciation by telling her that she could eat their scraps in the back after the company ate and left. This would bother most, but not my grandparents because to them, each penny they struggled to make was a major addition to the copper staircase that would lead their children to greater heights. However, with greater heights came greater challenges. When my parents came to the states, they had to work hard for simple privileges that most individuals today do not appreciate. They had to shed blood to go to the school of their choice, marched to eat in any restaurants or use any bathroom they pleased, and fought to not be told where to sit when they traveled on the community's public transportation. Even though they were men and women they were called boys and girls. No matter how successful they were in any aspect of their lives it was never good enough to society.
Imagine. The struggles of my forefathers allowed me to wake up in a world where I do not have to live my life being afraid that if I hold my head too high someone will be right there to knock it back down. A world where my parents have a little bit of weight taken off of their back every time they witness the benefits of their struggles through the accomplishments of their hardworking children. However, for every weight taken off their shoulders, another two weights are placed back on every time a news story is released about another Sean Bell, another Abner Louima, another Oscar Grant story brushed under the carpet, another of the many faceless victims' names added to the list as dusk meets dawn. Imagine the pain they feel when they look around and realize that their mission to create a united world is not over and the worst part is, the next generation has not found the motivation to come together and take on the responsibility to continue the fight for total freedom.
Imagine your culture being abused and tormented for so long, that when they finally have the opportunities their forefathers went to war for, they revert to the ignorant mentality, stereotypical roles and ideas that were being fought against in the first place. They are so focused on the struggles they were not even alive to be a part of, that before they know it their whole life passes by and their only accomplishment is blaming everyone but themselves. They want to live lavishly in the rewards of the battles of their grandmothers and grandfathers but they will call each other the same name that the evil in the world used to hold us back for centuries. It is ok to them though, because they believe we have the upper hand now. Imagine being engulfed in this ignorance, looking around and wondering why through all the death, the bloodshed, and the tears, they still do not get it.
Imagine growing up learning to live a lifestyle that you would eventually be condemned for having. In an environment where the major people you have to look up to as role models were individuals who called women that could be your mother or your sister, out of their name. Role models who were so hypnotized by the power of their fame and greed that they choose to follow the norm of their counterparts and spread shameful messages of hate and violence instead of uplifting their youth and showing them that being positive overpowers all negative. Role models who do not have an issue with spreading a negative message but will never take responsibility when their actions cause a negative reaction. Where do you turn? Who do you look to for help? How would you know that there are opportunities out there that could pull you out of a harmful lifestyle? How would you be able to recognize that although your father, brother, sister, and mother went down a certain path that same path may not necessarily be in your future? IMAGINE a world where your ancestors fought and died for you to have the freedom to speak even when you are not spoken to and when you look around at your peers you realize that the only way most of those you know have repaid them is by disgracing their battle for freedom.
Now imagine one man, one individual disproving every negative thought that society, including some in his own culture, held for centuries. One man who is able to bring back the fire that once glared in the eyes of those in search of hope back into the eyes of the current generation. A man who was able to shatter the idea that I could never be anything I wanted to be because of my color. One individual who let the world know that he would not be the man he is without the powerful women who stood behind him along the way. A man who made it acceptable to spread a positive message while gaining the respect of millions around the world with three words. "Yes we can!" Barack Obama, my new president, gave my forefathers a reason to finally rest their eyes and exhale. A reason to release all the anger and hostility they held inside because his accomplishment became their victory. If even for a second, he created euphoria where the weight of oppression was lifted off of an entire community. When he took a stand and became president the crash of shackles unlocking, breaking, and beating against the floor was heard around the world. Even those who were full of hate and were against the very idea of him possibly becoming president could not help but to shed tears the moment they heard, "Please welcome our new first family." Barack Obama gave me a reason to forgive. A reason to release the underlying hate I held in my heart every time I envisioned my ancestors being persecuted, hung, and murdered because they wanted to better themselves. He made all the moments where we did not get our just due, because we were who we were, less painful. President Obama created a rebirth. Like a cold glass of water on a hot summer day, Obama saturated this parched and desiccated culture I call my own with faith, optimism, and glory. The moment he became president the air became clear. There was an uncontrollable feeling of vindication, enthusiasm, and jubilation. The streets were filled with the spirits of the old days singing spirituals, dancing and celebrating the way only they could. IMAGINE, because of one man I no longer have to imagine. I thank President and First Lady Obama for risking their lives so that I could have a glimpse of hope for the future of my family, my son, and the generations to come. I pray that we as a whole can push through our own ignorance and the unawareness of others in order to continue the fight for change and to have the opportunity to say "YES WE DID" instead of "YES WE CAN."