The Voice of Ida B Wells

I once said, “I am only a mouthpiece through which to tell the story of lynching, and I have told it so often that I know it by heart. I do not have to embellish; it makes its own way.” That truth remains. For the pain of our people speaks plainly — written in tears, carried in weary footsteps, and remembered at gravesides far too soon filled.

We are tired, yes — tired of bearing the burden of wrong, tired of waiting for justice that moves at a snail’s pace, tired of voices being hushed while cruelty is carried out in daylight. I have long heard the saying, “Stand for something or fall for anything.” And I believe the time to stand is now — not tomorrow, not someday, but today.

Right is still right, and wrong is still wrong. And what we see is not only wrong, but harmful and dangerous, dressed up to look like law and order. We are told to wait quietly, but history has shown us that patience alone cannot set a people free, nor can silence ever protect the innocent.

Because of the color of our skin, we will always be asked to fight a little harder, walk a little further, lift a little more. And when deliberate wrong is done against us — when truth is twisted, when dignity is denied — we must not bow. We must rise, we must name the wrong for what it is, and we must answer it with courage.

If we do not speak, injustice will continue unchecked. But if we raise our voices together, even a whisper can swell into a mighty chorus. I, for one, will not hand my silence over. My voice is the one thing I can give, and I will use it.