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African American Fiction

My name is Johnson Swart and I never thought that I would be up here on this stage. This stage is something I dreamed of as a child and I never thought I would be here, yet here I am. I can hear the crowd, I can hear their excited voices, but what if I don't live up to what they expect? What if I don't say the right things or stumble and they think me to be a fraud? I can't mess up and I can't back down now. 

I take my breath and look up at the skies, hoping my ancestors are looking down on me proudly. 

I step onto stage and I hear the crowd hush like crickets quieting as you step too close, but they pick back up in a new wave of sound. They are clapping and sending their happiness in waves almost. It almost knocks me back, but I hold my ground and step again, closer and closer to the microphone until I am there. I hold up my hand in a way to show, “I hear and acknowledge each and every one of you. Now please let me speak.” The crowd once again goes quiet and I begin to speak. 

“Many of you are here because you know what happened. You know what happened to my father. He was killed in a way that no person should ever be killed. And you are all angry, and trust me when I say that I am too, but I have come to say not that your anger is bad, but that we need to redirect it in a way that can move others to join our cause. My father was killed due to something he couldn’t control, his race. But we can take hold of our anger and control the way that others see and listen to us.”

I take a breath as my heart is pounding. I had practiced this speech a what feels like a thousand times but I am sweating bullets and panicked. What if I don’t say things correctly and they aren’t pulled together like what my father would have wanted?

I look up again hoping he sees me and is here with me. “I know that what happened will be a scar on us all for a very long time. Scars fade over time, but never leave. I would like to call all of us together in order to sit at every county office there is. And just sit. Let them know that they need to change the way that things work around here.” There’s a loud cheer from the crowd at these words, and I feel my throat constrict. “We need to show them that we are human too! We won’t just let ourselves be walked all over and we won’t allow them to treat us this way. Our men, our fathers, our sisters, mothers, brothers, cousins, and family are being killed! All for something that we can’t change, but they can change their heart. And they can change their minds!” As I speak I get louder, I can feel my father next to me almost. He is there and he is looking at me with pride. I hear the crowd cheer again and I look up again and out to all these people. There is a beauty in seeing a crowd. This is the largest crowd I have seen in my life, but again I grew up in a small town. Now I am standing in front of what feels like has to be half of the United States and I know that I am in theory. This is a historic moment for us and for anyone, the largest gathering yet of those in protest of the injustices we have faced. I know that those who are not here physically are at home watching on the T.V. Are at home listening in on the radio or in their car listening. I hope they hear and I hope that they help. 

I look to my mother who is standing on the side of the stage and I tilt my head to ask her to come up without any words. It’s too hard to speak right now as the crowds are listening and the crowd is empowered. Together we are one it seems. My mother comes to stand next to me, “I have asked my mother to come up as well and she is going to talk about the finer details of what we need to do. Which county offices need more in numbers, and which need other resources.” I step away from the microphone as my mother takes my place. She is so strong for being able to do this after her husband was killed and is now dealing with the whole world watching her every move. I know the feeling of having to watch your every move because the world is watching. 

I step off stage to go and talk to a few journalist who are here listening in and I feel the weight be lifted off of me. I want to create the change that my father wanted and the change that my father was creating. I start to speak with a few for them to get my story of how I felt to be up on stage and how I was going to carry on my father’s legacy. I breathe and remember something before continuing to talk to the journalists. 

My name is Johnson Swart and I am the proud son of Elijah Swart and while he may be gone physically from this Earth, he and my other ancestors are looking down on me and are cheering me on as well. I will carry on my father’s legacy, I will continue to help others so that the same pain I am going through now is never going to be the pain of another child in this state, in this country, in this world. I am going to ensure that no other child will be hurt by the hate of others whether indirect or direct.  

February 12, 2021 15:04

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