I like to think of protest as a song,
one that takes years to rehearse and perform.
Years of mistreatment
as voices slowly come together.
Some sing solos,
some duets.
Then there's the unified chorus, the bruised and outraged, the brave and strong.
The group conductor
who'd heard the cries on the street
from the voices who all felt alone, together.
The group conductor
who studied the shame and saw color in voices,
direction in emotion,
a chorus in the cries,
and she said "I can do something with this."
"For one night, and one night only!"
"Event of the century!"
Singers who usually clash put aside their differences
for the love of their music
the song
the artists
the purpose,
giving each other voice and comfort, forgetting the previous night's fight.
"Mixed reviews," the paper said,
"You either love or hate the show."
Two thumbs up or two thumbs down.
Some fans come purely out of loyalty to the singers,
showing support but never listening to the lyrics.
The hecklers show up, front row.
They're not into music but enjoy the free show, the chance to unwind from their own frustrations, the opportunity to pretend that they have the upper hand.
Some love the song but hate the lyrics
Others love the lyrics but hate the band.
While some watch in awe and build their own courage to join.
And so it came together,
how the cries on the street rallied around the audition call,
the open castings,
a promise for family.
They knew the words to a song they'd never heard, but a beat they always felt.
Some sing along the whole time,
others scream only during the chorus, then retreat back into the crowd.
Others leave, it's too strong for them.
Too real of a message for someone just coming for their Friday night entertainment.
I like to think of protest as a song,
one that takes courage to rehearse and relearn.
But for how long must we sing this song,
no, SCREAM this song
until the world finally learns
to change their tune?