I'd like to think that if I had been born just a few decades sooner, I probably would have been one of those well-trained peaceful protesters that sat at lunch counters, silently demanding an equal slice of the "nigger pie" as people spit on me and yelled derogatory comments in my ear. I would have known and sung every song of freedom as I marched from place to place in my good, walking shoes.
The other part of me feels like my mouth would most certainly have gotten my ass in trouble. While I'm generally known as a reserved person, I'm quick to jump up on my soap box if I really have something to say about an issue. Maybe I would have been more suited to life as a Black Panther; walking the streets with my angry, black woman glare, my hair picked out and my black leather glove in a tight fist ready to use it if something jumped off.
As soon as that thought passes, I wonder yet again if I'd just have been happy as a hippie; rolling in the mud, not shaving my legs or armpits, letting my hair grow long and unruly down my back and occasionally adorning it with peace daisies (perhaps for my wedding). In that way, I'd have the strength of my voice combined with the peace in my nature. I would have had every opportunity to fight with love and solidarity to right every wrong and make every injustice just in a world ruled by corrupt politicians with brainwashed, military henchmen carrying out their every whim in the streets of cities near and far.
But, I wasn't born yet and although I know I should be thankful to those who quietly fought and died instead, I have a deep sense of displacement and disconnectedness from my own time and place; maybe because I live in my old books and hang on words already spoken and heard by millions of people around the world. I have no place in my time; I don't fit in it.
I am unhappy about it.
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