“If they think this grand jury will stop us from fighting for justice, then they don’t know my mother. They don’t know me. And they don’t know you!”

The crowd roars to life. The sound fills the streets. I take a deep breath before I continue. It’s a cleansing, freeing breath. There’s no second-guessing my words or my thoughts. I’m standing at this podium, and for the first time in my life, I understand that this is exactly where I belong.

I continue once the crowd settles. “My mother is a force unlike any other. She’s formidable, resilient, and tenacious. I am my mother’s daughter.”

I take a deep breath and share what I’ve learned. “My mother’s question to the city was: How much? I have the answer: Too much. We have overpaid and we are due for a refund.”

The crowd cheers and begins to shout, “Pay us back!”

I gently hold my hand out to settle them. “And while my mother is my mentor, I am not her. I’m not here to ask another question. I’m here with a warning.”

The crowd is hyped at a fever pitch. The energy and sheer excitement is practically moving the podium.

“For too long we have been pleading to be seen by America. We are done with pleading. We are here to tell you, while you may not see us, we damn sure see you!”

The crowd goes nuts and moves like they have caught the Holy Ghost.

“Do you hear us, America? The plainclothes cop who shoots before he identifies himself, the social media platforms that allow violence against our people to be turned into a joke, the police commissioner who turns a blind eye to the casual way Black men and women are killed without regard to their civil rights, and the corporations that back them . . . We. See. You.”

The crowd roars again.

“ComX Inc., a company that advertises regularly on Sly News and stood by as the network made light of our pain. ComX Inc., we see you.”

The crowd shouts the phrase back to me. I name the six other companies Milton got for me. Every time I call out a name, the crowd shouts back to that company, “We. See. You!” “And we will be boycotting you from now on,” I announce. The crowd cheers.

“Lastly, to the members of the grand jury, the cops who tried to kill my mother, and the entire NYPD—it is a mistake to think this is where it ends. We remember now who we are. And where we’ve come from. We will not be deterred. The monuments to systemic and institutional racism will not come crashing down right now. But mark this day: today is the day those monuments are no longer on solid ground. We. See. You.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Purpose