When the Parade Passes By.....
We often know what a parade is: usually filled with floats, marching bands, some armed service people, and within certain towns and cities there is always the political persons such as the mayor, governor, etc. So we all head out onto the street, the roads, near the railroad stations, or whatever to see this magic moment. Everyone enjoys the pararde. It has made history so to speak. Yet, what if when the parade passes by, that you never heard of it; or you were caught up into something else, and even if you cared, it just did not seem like something you needed to be a part of. You often "leave it up to them" so to speak.
So there you are, a young Black teenager back in the 1950s. Someone already told you that a young colored or black boy in Mississippi was found lynched and murdered by some white racists. So you simply just listen, then you go about your way, caring a little, but thinking to the fact that it is in the South and that just maybe he did something wrong. Wrong was the fact that he was whistling at a white woman. Then another incident yu hear about when some colored lady down South was sitting in front of a bus, and refused to give her seat to a white man. Oh well, on with whatever I was doing. Things just did not matter to you in one way, and yet even up North there were some tension growing involving whites and blacks, so you just tried to avoid it all and continue to live your way and in your world, as long as your world was not invaded. Sounds a little like when the 9 teens went to Little Rock Arkansas school when they were not suppose to because the school was all white, and those 9 students invaded the lifestyle of whites. Or what about those four who sat in a Greensboro Restuarant when they were not suppose to. They invaded the ways of white folks. So you talk about your world?
The parade passes by, but you are not a part of it. A President is assasinated but you are not a part of it. Oh, folks going up on th e moon, but you are not a part of it either. You just want to keep on keeping on. Then back to the race issue: Dr. King, who? That dude who made some big time speech on the Mall about Dreaming, a Check, and stuff like Free at Last. A March in Selma, Alabama was okay, to you that is, but it's something that just did not get to you. Then in 1968, Dr. King, gets himself assasinated. Now where are your thoughts? What did he do? So you begin to think on all of that stuff going on, and suddenly your hood has been removed and when you see yourself in the mirror, you realize then that your world has been invaded, and that the parade has stopped.