I grew up in the South [USA states] under segregation. I know what terrorism feels like - when your father could be taken out in the middle of the night and lynched just because he didn't look like he was in an obeying frame of mind when a white person said something he must do. That's terrorism, too.

There is always a moment in any kind of struggle when one feels in full bloom. Vivid. Alive. One might be blown to bits in such a moment and still be at peace.

If I'm killed - if I'm removed - there is nowhere else for me to go but to my ancestors.

The quietly pacifist peaceful always die to make room for men who shout.

Eventually I knew what hair wanted; it wanted to be itself ... to be left alone by anyone, including me, who did not love it as it was.

allowing freedom to others brings freedom to ourselves.

This could be our revolution: to love what is plentiful as much as what's scarce.