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 Roots to Rap
Rahiel Tesfamariam
Columnist Page
Friday, February 11, 2005; Page 20
Black@Stanford.Edu Revisited
“In 1968, in response to the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Stanford University sponsored a university-wide Colloquium on Race. During comments from the Provost, approximately 70 Black students from the Black Student Union stood up and somberly walked on stage and took the microphone. Once on the mic, they issued 10 demands to the University concerning its responsibility to its Black students. As a result, in 1969 the Black Student Volunteer Center was established with a focus on outreach programs to East Palo Alto.”
This story, as quoted from the university’s Black Community Service Center’s history page, has probably never escaped the ears of an African American student enrolled in Stanford University post-1969. It is the pride and joy of every alum, parent and faculty member that has benefited from the existence of “The Black House”, the Black Student Union, the Black theme dorm (Ujamaa House), Black Graduation, etc. That historical moment is so monumental to the Black experience at Stanford that on January 26, 2002, during an annual Martin Luther King Celebration, a group of students reenacted how “we took the mic”.
My classmates and I fell several decades short of witnessing firsthand that scene captured in a profound black and white photo, but I dare to say that we, like those that came before us, were always striving to make some noise of our own.
Many of my friends were much more radical than I ever dared to be back then. I stood on stages with a microphone in hand, reading poetry, reciting Spoken Word, spitting rap lines. I put the revolution on paper and brought it to the masses when possible; thank God for those classmates that took it to the streets of Oakland, San Francisco, East Palo Alto, Los Angeles and all over the West Coast.
I remember when the police officers who murdered Amadou Diallo were acquitted after only two days of jury deliberation, members of my class stayed up all night organizing a rally to be held the next day in the center of campus (White Plaza). We were only freshman back then but that small group was able to lead a crowd of many. That was the first fight for justice that I saw students wage on that campus but I would see many more in my four years there.
Many of the Chicanas that I was blessed to befriend while at Stanford taught me about struggle beyond Black and White lines. I learned about a man named Che Guevara, who would forever imprint “viva la revolucion” in my mind. I began to see the intersecting lines; Pablo Neruda began to speak to me; the Zoot Suit Riots called out to me and the inequity in East Palo Alto was all too familiar to me. Those brothers and sisters went on hunger strikes, got arrested, marched and cried out for the struggle of their people- just like many of us and, at the same time, unlike many of us.
It is my hope that we always find a position to play. Some write; others say. Some ask; others demand. Some march; others storm. Some fight to the bitter end; others die trying.
For Rahiel Tesfamariam send email to rahielt@washingtoninformer.com. |
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