Social Justice

The Eastville Community Historical Society “Disruptors, Disobedient, Defiant Doers” Awards – Full Acceptance Speech – Lora Tucker

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and all the wonderful honorees! And fellow homo sapiens. We want to thank The Eastville Community Historical Society for recognizing the UUCSF’s High Impact Community Outreach. For five years, PAC; the Proposal Assessment Committee, worked to support many wonderful and dynamic organizations on the East End. I happen to know both institutions very well being a member of UUCSF and PAC, and one of the proud daughters of Eastville. I am also so proud that in my lifetime, we began to annually celebrate the history of freedom denied, delayed, then redeemed. But the times they are “changing”. Quite fast. I am afraid to ask, “What’s next.” In this zero-sum society, where pluralism is being pulverized, history is not repeating or rhyming, it is refluxing. For years we have supported institutions and Museaum’s in our Hampton’s communities. For years we have been discovering American history. Her, history that was taken for granted, now joyfully celebrated. But today, our foundations are being emphatically dripped away. Now, more than ever, we need to protect Eastville, and out other East End Organizations that tell the whole American story. We can’t take out community’s history for granted, or the stories will be erased. And we have proof of prior attempts. It has been 106 years since the original Juneteenth. Freedom has only existed for 60 years, since signing of the civil and voting rights acts. The Civil Rights Era is not over… yet. And we cannot forget. We cannot forget how our ancestors woke up every day knowing that they were subjugated for their lifetime. Owned. We cannot forget the lessons passed down by our great-grands, grands,and parents and appreciate HOW THEY EXISTED, SURVIVED, and THRIVED in their lifetimes. We cannot forget that over 60 years ago it was school age students who marched, took on fire hoses, and died in a bombing just for going to Sunday school. Those school age kids are our present-day older brothers, sisters, cousins. And we cannot forget our librarians and historians. They are the griots, keepers of the flame. I am adopting the philosophy of looking forward seven generations, even though I have no children. Every child is my child… Even the adult ones. On Juneteenth, I will remember and celebrate my blessings, my freedom, and my womanhood, while asking myself: “Am I really ‘free at last’?” What will we do next? My mother always said: “Do something!” I will add, “PLEASE.” And end saying to you what my great-uncle would always say when we said our good-byes: “YOU STAY WOKE OUT THERE.” Oh- by the way — I want my vernacular back. Lora René Tucker of Sag Harbor is the poetry editor of African Voices magazine and the author of “Writes of Passage.” She facilitates poetry and writing workshops for Stony Brook Southampton Hospital’s Wellness Center and leads antiracism and cultural empowerment workshops.

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April 3, 1968

A poem for the new year in honor of Dr.Martin Luther King, Jr. and some “food for thought” in this “post – empathic” age. In remembrance of Dr. Martin Luther King, I reflected on Dr. King’s last 24 hours on earth; the day before he became immortal.  History books don’t teach about the Sanitation men’s strike or what the average person endured when the tsunami of racial-political energy converged on the city of Memphis.  Now, back stories and conspiracy theories have made great documentaries and movies.  “Some said” Dr. King knew what was coming, that there were foreboding signs of Dr. King’s demise. Others gave various conspiracy theories that rivaled President Kennedy’s. Imagine the constant anticipation of doom that followed him, Dr. King gave his all anyway, having in the back of his mind that at any time… APRIL 3, 1968 Lorraine Welcomed a King and his court with Gideon Bibles in the drawers, ice in the buckets. Highly noted in the Green Book Lorraine made sure they felt welcomed With the sheets folded down (Not over someone’s head) and hermetically sealed soap on the vanity. Lorraine, the quintessential hostess Briefly held him and his dream Gave them respite, even just for one night. Memphis was his mountaintop; He told her he came back having something to prove in a city of two worlds: Proud men as human billboards Reminding narrow minds they, too, are American Facing men with centuries of disdain Group think of poisoned minds  Incensed that the “service class” Deserved to be served. Lorraine knows of service: Available all night Guaranteed safe after sundown; Yet, in 24 hours what Lorraine had to do would be more than hanging towels and fluffing pillows. Balcony his perch he stood looking down at his knights making plans for the promised land Sun in his eyes He vowed to return leaving Lorraine his disheveled sheets smothered cigarette in the ashtray dreams scattered across the floor Mulberry Street became the road to the promised land – But for the rest of us the road had a detour. Like Lemmings we veered off the cliff We all fell when his head was pierced by white hot hate speeding through the Cointelpro‘s crosshairs… Right in front of Lorraine. Lorraine Didn’t want the attention or fame Nor the responsibility of cleaning his blood and brains She knew nothing would ever be the same So, she embraced her place in history Kept her Green Book address And changed her name. * (*The Lorraine Motel is now the National Civil Rights Museum; 450 Mulberry Street, Memphis, TN.)

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