When black consciousness was not a fad or a hustle? Part two ..."On to Washington"

Part Two  “On to Washington”

“On to Washington” was the chant created by the inspiration of the Million Man March. Months before the march, black conscious men would pass each other on the streets or the mall, and give that look, you know that one when you are serious. Then we  would put the fist up and say; “On to Washington.” For most black conscious students today that were born in the 90’s, the Million Man March is a blur. It’s even a blur for my eldest son who I had to leave behind. Even though his mother tries to help him remember them watching CNN hoping to get a glimpse of me, it's still a blur. Many of them were too young to remember, while the media was paid to block any recollection out. It's not a coincidence that you see the 63 March on Washington photos in school classrooms, while the Million Man March continues to be buried in the press. Yet  for me it’s a lasting eternal memory that will always be locked in my neural pathway. 

There were five of us that went up early from our city. The march was to take place Monday while we arrived there on Saturday. I had yet to finish my eventually process in the Nation of Islam, but I was still well connected to the black conscious movement. So I knew there would be many socially conscious events I could participate in, outside of standing on post as an FOI. (The FOI are known as the Fruit of Islam inside the Nation of Islam, They are the males that provide the frontline security for the organization) And I also knew the brothers in the Nation did not carry weapons, so I had the duffel bag, again, just in case.  From the time we arrived in Washington DC (Troy Muhammad, Frankie Roberts, Andrew Waters, Jimmy Lee Thompson, and myself) the vibe was electric. From the hotel check in, to the restaurants, to the shopping district in Georgetown, to just driving in the car, there was black electricity I would call it.   Brothers, black men, not even knowing each other, dapping, pounding, hugging, showing each other love and respect, networking, being the Gods that we are. And as you traveled around the city you begin to ask yourself, did ALL the white folks just leave? It was either they all left, or the blackness was so thick we no longer knew they even existed. Either way we truly were experiencing what George Clinton called a “Chocolate City.”

Monday October 16, 1995 was the day we had been waiting for over the last year. We left the hotel for the National Mall about 4 am. It was especially important for myself and Troy Muhammad to make it to the mall for Faji (The muslim first morning prayer). I was so proud to be muslim, as I watch my Christian companions traveling with us heard the call of the adhan (the call to prayer)  across the National Mall. After prayer we just wandered around as a group anticipating exactly what we would expect for the rest of the day. I talked to several of my Muslim brothers and we just waited. As the sun was coming up, I remember someone from our group suggested we walk over and get some breakfast at one of the few diners that had the money sense to stay open. It was early in the morning and probably less than 500 brothers had come out to make the morning  prayer. So we begin walking from the front of the National Mall stage where the events of the day are anticipated to take place. And then it happens. The thunder clouds burst open and I’m not talking about rain, I’m talking about black reign. While we were praying there had been an assembly of black men from all over the country, that had assembled on Independence and Constitution Avenue and had met at center stage and began marching on the National Mall. I remember that site till this hour. Out of the ashes of death they rose. Out of despair and failures they moved forward. Filled with the spirit of Malcolm and Martin, locked in arms, brother to brother,  shoulder to shoulder, there they stood, there they walked together. Black men brother to brother, not even knowing each other, yet a reflection of each other, and bringing the change we expect to take place. I just cried and I saw this special moment, the same tears that I shed today as I write about it. After 400 years of bondage the black man was free and America was going to have to deal with him...so I thought?…to be continued on noocovers.org daily blog