When Cassius Clay became Muhammad Ali and refused to put on that uniform (and sacrificed all that money!) a very different impact was made on the people and a very different kind of instruction had begun.
James Baldwin, "An Open Letter to My Sister Angela Y. Davis"
She was a substitute. A black woman. Maybe in her late twenties. In my mind's eye, I think of Nine Simone, with the short natural. Slender.
Brave.
Even if, as professor Andrew Hartman writes, there was a revival of sorts. Americans were once again reading Marx. Karl Marx.
Let's move past the efforts of the most unfree and fearful Americans who made their attempt to incarcerate and murder free thinking and free speech seem patriotic. Maturity is what's needed in this crisis we face today.
This was high school in Chicago, maybe 1971. While I was already a member of Operation Breadbasket's Resist, the city was The Machine. Daley's Machine. The black community I lived in was Catholic, but the black Baptist churches had a conservative streak when it came to some German guy and his little book, The Communist Manifesto.
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