I will march on Saturday because I refuse to allow my two sons to be treated as statistics or a stereotypes rather than as children of God. I will march because overly aggressive policing tactics that overly rely upon racial profiling make a mockery of Dr. King’s dream that every child will be judged by the content of their character and not the color of their skin.
I will march because the recent repeal of section four of the Voting Rights Act by the Supreme Court jeopardizes the voting rights of millions of Americans across the country, particularly in southern states where new barriers to this sacred right are already being erected.
I will march because based on national statistics, my two black boys face a one in three chance of spending some time of their lives behind bars, a disturbing and destructive reality that has been made possible in part by mandatory drug sentencing laws that must be reevaluated and changed.
Even with the scores of marches on Washington since 1963, we all still know what we mean when we say the March on Washington.
In our collective memory, we see black-and-white images of immaculately dressed men and women wearing hats, ties, and dresses, marching in dress shoes. We see a sea of people stretching from the Lincoln Memorial to the Washington Monument. And we see Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., frozen in time, smiling and waving to the crowd of a quarter million people. We see King’s passion, mouth open as he bellows words that sear the conscience of a nation and ignite its imagination. His arm is outstretched over the podium. He is surrounded by men and women who are also there to plead with a nation to “let freedom ring!”
These images are seared into our nation’s memory, even though most of us were not there.
The video clip may be a bit grainy, but the message of a public service announcement about the federal Equal Pay law from 45 years ago feels thoroughly (and maddeningly) au courant.
Last week marked the 49th anniversary of the passage of the Equal Pay Act of 1963.
The vintage PSA, starring Batgirl (Yvonne Craig), Batman (Adam West), and Robin (Burt Ward) from the 1960s television series Batman, finds the "dynamic duo" in a familiar kerfuffle — tied to a chair in a "deserted warehouse on the outskirts of town" with a bomb ticking just out of reach.
BAM! Batgirl bursts through a door just in time to rescue them before the bomb goes off. But ... not so fast, fellas. First, Batgirl, resplendent in her purple body suit and mask, has a bone to pick with her male colleagues.