I think of the privilege I have living in first world comfort, surrounded by books that speak of liberation and decolonization, the luxury to write, think, and talk for a living, contemplating my own colonization and the suppression of my people with some idea that we would get free someday. How can a middle class girl even think "revolutionary" thoughts amidst such privilege? Oh, the privilege to think. And to dream. To imagine another world is possible with despair all around me. Despair which is not mine today but which is present with somebody in this city today.
Is there a key to liberation for our folks when such inequality exists, such divergent realities co-exist?