There are those that will tell you that the corporations magically make this world go round. They’ll tell you that business men keep the lights on, that they have the power to call on the sun and send it home at night. They’ll tell you that developers bring life into this world, that their buildings can revive the blighted and make slums walk again. They’ll tell you that bankers and investors are great angels from on high that descend from heavenly penthouses with messages from the Bank of God.
They’ll tell you that hell on earth is just a temporary pain to be eased in the bosom of their credit and cars and clothes and customs. They’ll tell you that they saved the day. They’ll tell you that the real problem ain’t them, the REAL problem is your man or your woman or that Haitian or that nigger or that illegal or that redneck and if we could just do away with them, we could all do big business better together.
We know better.
We know about their eviction letters and rent hikes. We know about the cut hours, the unpaid overtime, the no insurance. We know about the crumbling schools, their police and prisons and our empty wallets, stomachs and refrigerators.
We can build a state that gives raises to all public school teachers and bus passes to all our children. We can build a state that refuses to arrest our kids and provides healthcare to us all. If there’s a police department, a liquor store, and a check cashing place on every block, why can’t there be a Public Community Center?
We know who really saves our days. Why don’t we praise the cook, the cleaner and the cashier? Why don’t we praise the busboy, barback, burger broiler and bus driver? Why don’t we praise the waiter, the welder and the dishwasher? Why don’t we praise the maid, mothering our children and theirs? Why don’t we praise the trash men, the last men to stand with King before he became a holiday?
This state don’t run on DeSantis or Rubio or Nelson or Rick Scott. It runs on us. We built this brick by brick with our bare hands. Not Tony Goldman, not Ron Book, or Norman Braman. WE DID. We, the forgotten, the trafficked, the disposed of. We are Florida’s true Power & Light and it’s time we got our Freedom Papers.
This is the year that rent freezes,
That no family faces eviction
To make way for a new highway or
high rise
or coffee shop
or parking lot.
This is the year,
That government call emergency sessions,
threaten filibusters
or government shutdown
If opponents refuse
multi billion dollar bailout packages
For single mothers.
This is the year four time felons,
Found guilty of falling in traps,
are found running in Miami,
and running in Pahokee,
and running in Duval,
For Senate, and Mayor, and Governor.
This is the year abuelas, and granns, made maids
Rise at dawn,
Pack blankets,
Make meals,
Board buses to beaches,
To bathe, bask, laugh
In suns once served under.
If our liberation began with the vision of a world without
the colony, slum, favela, and ghetto;
then this is the year.
So let every one of us;
Hungry, tired, yet undefeated
Lasso a new North Star
And study war no more.
We are an uprising of rebellious youth fighting for our freedom.
We are the ones to shape our collective destinies.
We are the next generation of revolutionaries.
Let’s shape the future together.
Join a Dream Defenders Squadd.
