Reflections on marching, memory, and progress

I was in my third year at the Smithsonian Institution. Almost 12 years to the day from this memory text. The novelty and significance of walking out of the building where I worked onto the National Mall had only faded enough that I could still get excited in anticipation of what had been built up in some of the press as a bit of a spectacle in the making. 

The Million Man March marked a day when religious, social and economic divides were to be put aside in the name of atonement for Black men.  Feeling a bit conflicted about attending an event segregated along racial and gender lines, I had told myself that I would go in a documentarian role--more as an observer than as a participant seeking absolution or unity. 

But as I began my usual communte from Takoma Park on the Metro's Red Line at 6:00AM I recognized that this day would be like no other I had previously experienced.  I didn't see anyone who wasn't African American on the train that day--Fort Totten, Brookland-Catholic University, Rhode Island Ave., Judiciary Square, Union Station--I thought about Homer Plessy for a minute and wondered if the Citizen's Committee in New Orleans had ever imagined a moment like this 100 years down the road.

As I came out of the metro station at 7th & Maryland Avenue the Fruits of Islam were doing their morning physicals as the Park Police and Capitol Police patrolled the area and setup public safety barriers closer to Independence Ave. 

By 10AM the Mall was packed, press from all over the world had received their credentials from the trailer that had been temporarily setup by 4th & Jefferson Drive. All of the logistics were as tight and punctual as a temple meeting. Rev. Ben Chavis, Jesse Jackson and a long list of speakers preceded Minister Farrakhan during a day that is still finding its place in the battery of American of activism and public conciousness.   

I will remember this day as full of moments to reflect on progress and the continued struggle for emancipation.