Life is for the Taking.

It’s a common phrase, used all over the country in casual conversation, telling people they can do anything. The American dream. 

That is, until you try to take it. 

You see, the human race wants to be perfect. We all want to be the best - to be able to saunter about in hundred-dollar shoes with a gold chain resting on our chest. 

But sometimes, those same expensive shoes slow us down, and that golden chain weighs heavily on our shoulders. 

I have seen it before, and I know I will see it again and again. 

We are selfish creatures, more concerned about ourselves than the person standing right next to us. Sure, we might have people we care for, but they are all we care for. 

A certain level of respect for human life is lacking here, and those that can do something about it aren’t the ones with the golden chains chains swinging about their necks. 

Yes, they may be able to give you money, pay for a court case, or to rebuild a house that was burnt down overnight by one of those people who only care for themselves. Who think their way is always right. 

But, sometimes chains aren’t always physical. 

Often, those who can do the most have a hole in their shoe, and their chests only sport a ragged t-shirt with a faded logo of some small brand no one can identify. 

People love. And because of that, people get hurt. But it is that hurt that brings about the determination to continue a losing fight. 

We are in a losing fight now, my brothers and I. 

Our world has been turned upside down in recent years, with unrest blossoming in every crack and crevasse that has broken our society. 

This broken society has a question - one that is the same as the same saying that has brought America to life but for one part. 

Is life worth taking?

Many say no. They give up, duck their heads, and let themselves be walked over when their chain gets too heavy to bear. 

But others, like those of us who face the dangers of tear gas, dogs, and police, believe that life is indeed worth taking. 

That if we stand long enough, we can take our life back from those who have stolen it right out from under our fingertips. 

Our chain grows every time we lose something. Every time we see a brother or sister hurt. Arrested. Killed. Every time our bodies scream at us to duck. To sit down. To stop, turn, and go home.

There is no justice - the police meant to protect us are our opponent, clad in their crisp uniforms and shining buttons. The government in their suits expensive enough to pay a month’s rent ruling the show. 

Our chains grow. Of course they do. How could they not when day after day we are berated and treated wrongly because of the color of our skin?

But we have each other. 

We all have heavy chains. But we do not run from a challenge, or abandon each other to face the dangers alone. 

We stand together, holding one another up, creating a chain of bodies resembling the strength with which we fight for true freedom. 

Some of us fall, and we help them back up again. 

We do not have golden chains; our chains are made of lies. Of names and slogans and slurs. Of blood and tears that we shed for our cause. Of sweat that drips from our brows and onto the concrete beneath us. 

But our chains do not hold us still. 

We do not bow our heads, do not walk away like we are something less than what we are. 

Society is broken. There are cracks everywhere, and in everyone’s hearts. 

Everyone has been hurt. There is no exception. 

But those of us who can take a hit, hold onto each other, and raise our head again are those who will achieve their goals, who will feel the chain slide off their shoulders and hit the cement, creating a laurel of victory around the blood staining the pavement. 

But we do not leave it there. We do not forget our struggles - they have shaped us, molded us into the people we are today. 

We pick up our chains and twist them into a crown. 

We walk away with our heads high, victory assured. We are not wearing a fancy suit or shoes white as snow. 

We wear our chains. They have turned into a symbol of victory. Of strength. 

We are not who they thought we were. 

That was a long time ago. I was young when I stood, fighting for equality in my hometown. 

But I still wear my chains upon my gray brow. I still hold my head high. 

We have won the battle. But have not yet won the war. 

My advice to you is this - be proud of your chains. Keep your head high. And in the end, you will come to the same conclusion I did. It does not matter your age, your IQ, the color of your skin, nor anything else. If you fight, you will realize one thing. 

Life is for the taking.