Some may say little kids aren't supposed to cook.
I walked into Pleasant Hope Baptist Church to the sight of children, huddled around a griddle, putting fresh bacon on the sizzling thing. The other kids either sat in a circle joking with each other, and one little boy was actually doing impressive head spins. I walked over to Pastor Heber Brown III, and introduced myself, where he gave me three options: help with the food, run social media, or take photos. Both of my phones were dying, so I did the obvious thing and took photos of the kids making breakfast.
When the bacon was done, there was a brief intermission. One of the kids, Denzel, started showing everyone how to tie a tie. I took off my coat and grabbed a tie, seeing if he could show me. And, well, he did! A ten year old taught me how to tie a tie.
When breakfast was done, the kids threw their trash away and Moriah, one of the volunteers, Shannon, and I washed the dishes while the kids did their libations to the ancestors.
Pastor Brown had been teaching the youth so much in the past two days. His spirit and love for the kids showed through his grace and patience. "When regular school is closed, Freedom School is open!" he'd shout, and the kids would follow right along.Any other person would've been frustrated and yelling, but he did what a lot of us won't do - let our kids be kids.
Black kids, Moriah, and I discussed, don't get the privilege of childhood, especially impoverished Black kids. Especially little Black girls. Constantly dehumanized, the rush to adulthood comes both externally and internally as our kids have to worry about judgement, performance, and excellence very young. The concept of innocence does not extend to Black kids. Non-Black kids that are loud are simply loud. Black kids that are loud are not just loud but ghetto, and for some reason (racism?) more intolerable. Black kids have to be the face of the entire Black community.
This is different from my experience serving children over the summer with Operation Help or Hush. (Read about it here.) Where the kids in Sandtown-Winchester were dead before they lived, these Freedom School kids might've had a thousands souls inside of them. They were playing and laughing and dancing and singing and cooking and being free. I pictured little Tamir playing with them, quickly changing the thought to something more peaceful.
The kids then got back to making breakfast. Under adult supervision, oranges were juiced, and eggs were whisked. The kids made waffles, scrambled eggs, and fresh orange juice. Shannon, one of the volunteers and one of the kids' parents, gave a miniature lesson on herbs and natural medicine.
The kids then got on the bus (I really want to see the Spike Lee movie) and headed downtown, where there was a protest action where demands were made of the Baltimore City Police Department. I rode in Moriah's car, where we had a great talk on American culture, capitalism, and Cuba (read her post on Cuba here, at ForHarriet). It was nice to be able to converse with someone on such a level. We talked about whether or not Brother Bernie was a real socialist or not, the Uprising, and the individualistic competition-driven culture that our country breeds. The exchange of thought, theory, and ideas felt freeing. This wasn't any elementary exchange of racism and concepts that should've been understood in sixth grade, but actual critique and international experience on a macro and micro level.
The kids, leading the show, sang their song about the RBG from Jones Falls all the way to City Hall, loud and proud. Cameras and a podium waited for their grand entrance. Black and Latino youth were behind the podium as several young leaders spoke about the injustices they faced by the police department, along with solid concrete demands.
After the speeches were made, I was able to meet Dayvon Love from Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle, a group that looks to raise community voices to promote change. I did a brief interview with The Real News Network, and we were on our way to the buses.
Before we got to the buses, the kids were able to see Eddie Conway, a former Black Panther. Many of the kids shook his hands and thanked him for what he did with a reverence that resembled that of the American and the American soldier. The kids had questions about Baltimore and the meal programs and the Party itself, and seeing the younger people so curious and passionate excited me. These kids weren't 15,16,and 17. They ranged from 7-14!
I rode to the Freddie Gray Empowerment Center with Lawrence Rodgers, an evangelist at another church in Baltimore. There was interesting conversation there as well, as we talked about KFCs closing and homelessness in the city. We rode to the Freddie Gray Empowerment Center, conveniently located just a block from my childhood house on Eutaw Place.
Freedom School closed out with each kid saying what they learned, liked, or will remember forever during the two days. Most kids said meeting Eddie Conway was the biggest highlight. The recognition and affirmation from elders seemed to provide a shelter for the kids.
The whole day felt like the second part of a spiritual cleanse. Just the night before, I was singing songs and cracking jokes with my poetry friends while making a banner for the Homecoming Parade. And for the next day to be filled with such beautiful energy felt like a blessing.
Black people aren't supposed to be doing things like this. The institution of American chattel slavery was supposed to be generational, extending from our grandparents to our grandchildren and to their grandchildren. This is what the Confederacy fought to uphold; this is what the culture of our country promotes. We aren't supposed to celebrate and love each other. But we weren't supposed to run to the North either. We weren't supposed to sit in at segregated lunch counters. We weren't supposed to fight back. We weren't supposed to sneak around and learn how to read. We weren't supposed to be able to tell our own story.
Some say kids aren't supposed to cook, but sometimes it's best to do what you not supposed to do.
