OUTCRY-TINY CRIES   By Javlin Narez

While I'm on the phone with her, I'm holding her picture. Her innocent eyes are staring at me; they are brown and big just like his. She has his complexion, his smile and the same penetrating look. She's waiting for me to answer her question.

She knows the answer but doesn't understand and while I can write songs and poems about any and everything I go through; I just can't tell baby girl, where the world ends. A direct answer to her question will crush her universe. I don't want to steal the color in her vision and teach her that the world holds no color at all. There is no grey area here, there is no in-between but I want her to be able to paint her picture with all the colors of the rainbow and I don't want her flawless young soul to get scarred or spotted.

She is still waiting for me to fill out an answer on her dotted line…. I take a deep breath and tell her; "I don't know when Daddy is coming home little mama, but hopefully the people in charge will let us know soon". I know that’s not what she wants to hear. She wants me to promise her that it won’t be much longer but that might be a promise I might not be able keep and I don’t want to disappoint her. I don't even know if she will ever be able to hug him, I don't know if he is ever coming home. My hope and faith won't be able to comfort her because yes, I hope that he will come home and yes, I believe he is innocent but we're up against something so vicious and daddy happens to be black.

Then she continues on and asks me "Well but aren't there people who can talk to the people in charge? Can't you talk to them so they can let you know? Just tell them that we love him and need to know when he's coming home." I admire her way of thinking and I wish it all could be solved that way. See, she doesn't understand that getting the answer we want is causing us to play tag on mine fields and we can't afford to miss a step. She is yet to discover how big this world is and one day, when she flies the nest she will understand how loud you have to scream to be heard. She doesn't understand that just one single voice, simply fades in a crowd that’s noisy on its own.

For the past 10 years, our screams echoed into the big unknown. It was like we were never screaming loud enough to be heard or maybe there was too much shame in it, for middle class people of color, to acknowledge that he was black and fucked up by hanging with the wrong crowd. To the upper class society, his story was stereotypical. Dad out running the streets, mom died of aids. His story was set without even looking at the cards he held himself. He got marked based on what he grew up around, assuming he wasn't strong enough to break the circle while all his life that's what he tried so hard. He never got the chance to prove his strength and determination while he was in the free world.

And now he is on Death Row, waiting for the courts to decide what they are going to do with his case or better yet; with his life. They know he didn't kill anyone. That's not even what he is in jail for in the first place- it's because he got labelled as the get-away-driver. Now his baby girl wants answers to questions we've been asking for so many years and I cannot provide her with it.

We need help. Help we have been asking for so many years. Help that was promised but never given. There are so many other families in the same position and they need help too. We are not dealing with famous revolutionaries here, so does that mean that our stories are less important because not all eyes are facing this direction? because that's what I'm starting to think when I look at how many times we have reached out and asked for help already, but ended up not getting any. I guarantee you that it doesn't mean that these guys are less revolutionary and they need the people to help put their stories out. Not when they have dates set and are about to be executed but right now. See it’s funny that about 3 weeks before the executions go down- these guys are over flooded with letters of ‘support’; organizations that want to ‘help’ fight for their lives while for the past 10 years these guys been on death row- no one ever reached out or replied to their letters in which they were asking for help. On top of that- soon as things take turns for the worse it’s like all these people who offered help seem to vanish in thin air. Empty promises will not help explain a child why daddy might not come home at all. This is our struggle 24/7. Whether we want to or not. Unity organizations promise help, the good old stories about how we need to join hands and come together. The mountains that have been moved so far, we moved ourselves. Grinding, fighting with the last little bit of strength in our being but one person can only do so much and the world is a big place .

August 31st, 2006. Hasan Shakur executed by the state of Texas. 3 people outside protesting. Hasan was working with the black panthers, but no black panthers there. No Anti Death Penalty organizations, no Anti Death penalty activists. Hasan was pronounced dead at 6:18 PM. He leaves behind a son named Devon. Who will explain Devon?

D.R.I.V.E.

DEATH Row INNER-COMMUNALIST VANGUARD ENGAGEMENT