On an average day of school we go to our civics class.
We sit down, get our books out, and procede.
But this day, this day was different.
The projector shows a march of brave men and women in Alabama.
Black. Ebony. Dark Skinned. Light Skinned. Name 'em all.
Taking a stand for freedom and equality.
The typical high school senior would zone out and take this time to sleep.
But not me!
Grandma told me of this time.
A time of hardships over come and voices being heard.
An hour goes by and I see most of my classmates dozed off.
But I felt like I was isolated. Alone, Angry.
I saw the harsh waters from the fire hoes and became angry.
I saw the evil looks on the people's faces when the Little Rock Nine wanted an education.
I saw! I saw! And I was angry.
A tear trickled down my cheek
"This is what my Grandmother had to endure" I thought.
I soon then realized how happy I was.
No matter how many obsticles as a people we have faced and still face we prevail.
As I look around the class room I am the only one who is touched.
It is not because I was the only black in the class,
But because of how much pride I take into my community.
Although I was the only one who cried.
I was proud to cry.
Proud to know the efforts it took of the black community to get where they are today,
Proud to know that we dont step down,
Proud to know that we can come together to over come,
And proud to know that struggle can sometimes be a beautiful thing.