Shut Your Mouth Until Your Feet Hit Dry Ground
Shut Your Mouth Until Your Feet Hit Dry Ground We have developed a fatal habit of mistaking loud agitation for actual liberation. We get three strokes out into deep water, catch a whiff of momentum, and immediately start barking threats at the predator whose belly we are swimming across. The Zambian and Somali elders laid down a non-negotiable rule of survival: “Do not insult the crocodile until you have crossed the river.” Yet every single day, our people take to timelines and street corners, screaming declarations of war against a predatory apparatus that still owns the roof over our heads, the food in our refrigerators, and the water coming out of our pipes. That is not revolution; that is suicidal arrogance. On this day of Ujamaa—steeped in the restorative, fluid force of water and draped in vibrant green—we must confront the reality that economics is not just buying Black. It is the ruthless, calculated conservation of your life-force energy. The river is the perilous passa...