The Voice of Ida B Wells

Once again, the tragedy falls upon us: a young man, innocent of the charges, accused of being guilty with lies and prejudice.  Kyren Lacy knew he had done no wrong, yet his truth was drowned beneath the weight of false statements. No advocate rose to his defense. No justice dared to speak his name. He was left alone, cornered, and stripped of peace until he saw no escape but the grave.

How many more unseen tapes exist, buried and hidden, that would prove the innocence of our sons and brothers? How many more voices must be silenced before America confesses the truth—that a Black man’s word is still considered worthless beside a white man’s accusation?

We ask, when will it end? When will evidence come before sentence? Or will the verdict always be written first upon the skin of the accused—dark skin, marked guilty before trial?

I wrote in another century of men hanged without proof, burned without cause, condemned without mercy. I spoke then, believing we were fighting to end a savage custom. Yet here we stand, in the 21st century, and I see that the crime of being Black still carries the same penalty.

Until this nation reckons with its sin—until it admits that the blood on its hands is not the blood of criminals but the blood of the innocent—we will bury son after son, and mother after mother will mourn, because justice refuses to wear a Black face.