3 Little Rebels

By Attallah A. Ali

Knock. Knock. Guess who? We’re finally here and we’ve come to collect our dues. Time to open up and see how it feels to be in our shoes.

This is the story of the Three Little Rebels knocking on the sandman’s door. They’re always awake, marching with their feet sore. But they come bearing the fruits of truth. All eyes on me, nah it’s just you. Anxiously waiting, anticipating an outcry, a shattered dream, a plot or a scheme to keep the masses down.

Day in, day out, out and about, letting you know the real, that is until. Mr. Sandman decided to answer.

He opens up and says, “You three are nothing but trouble, do you know how much extra sand I have to hand out, because yall don’t know how to but out. Black this brown that. Respect my black. No body’s trying to hear any of that black panther smack.”

One little rebel stepped up and looked the sandman in the eyes. “I can’t say I’m surprised Mister Sandman, that is your job after all. While darkness comes and wolves run wild in the streets, you slink your way over and put them all to sleep. But you don’t have us fooled, not one bit. Yeah, we yawn every now and again, rub our eyes. Might even drift off for a second or two, but we’re watching fool. One wrong move and we let everybody know. Sound the alarms, set the clocks back, shake em till they wake. Falling asleep on the battlefield is the first mistake, but please know that just because we’re always awake doesn’t mean we don’t dream, that’s something we do very well.”

This isn’t the classroom, but allow me to show and tell you something.

We didn’t climb up the mountain, we flew. When we don’t fly, we teleport.

One word: limitless.

Pretty futuristic, right. I’m sorry, but are you blinded by the light of the mind and how knowledge can transcend space and time? But it looks like your time is up because you know what I see? Hundreds, thousands, millions of rebels awakening from their slumber, and from where I stand we’re only getting stronger. Oopsie daisy, looks like the sand man went and got lazy. The sandman screamed with rage, and warned, “remember that this a war you decided to wage!”

And it’s a challenge we gladly accept. But that’s not the end of the story, there’s only one question left.

When the sandman comes your way what are you going to do? Quiver with fear; pretend not to have a care? Become overwhelmed swallowed by a nightmare. Or will you take your place on the throne? Pressing forward towards the future, but not forgetting the past. Can we change it from Just us to actual justice?

If we persist, and pave the way, we kill the social stigmas, we assassinate the harmful ideals we’ve been brainwashed to believe, murder the stereotypes, and show everyone that we definitely live up to the hype! My friends, my rebels, my revolutionaries please hear me when I say…

We did not simply come to fight, but we came to SLAY.

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