Black, a strong pillar that holds the earth, bringing richness and clothing to the universe with the finest hope.
Black, the spinners that spin the spindle, we are the rising feet that drum the road, bringing rhythm to silent ages.
Black, our legacies are filled with potent men and women mending the bridge between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat. With our hands on the face of tomorrow painting a vibrant picture for the next. We have and are still navigating the voyage that is floating from nowhere to nowhere.
Over the years we have produced men whose words and actions have given us a song in our throat.
Alexander Lincoln, a vibrant man known for his sound judgement, compassion and humanity, his life is a symbol of service, determination and humility
He tirelessly fought till he drew his last breath for equity in rights for all races in society and he did so without malice, he changed attitudes and contributed immensely to the inclusiveness and tolerance of Canada today.
Violet King Henry, a vibrant Canadian lawyer and activist, being the first black woman lawyer in Canada and the first black person to graduate law in Alberta, was a strong figure for combating oppression in the Canadian society and in the workplace for people of colour throughout her career
“People told me it wasn’t a good idea for a girl to be a lawyer, particularly a coloured girl — so I went ahead.”
This was one of her famous speeches which indicates her great zeal and passion in standing for the coloured community.
Dan Phillip is one of the strong pillars of the Montreal Black Community. He was president of the Black Coalition of Quebec for over four decades and continued to serve on the organization’s board as honorary president after his retirement in 2020, championing the cause of equality and fighting systemic discrimination.
He stood as a major force against police brutality and kept a heavy voice for the protection of rights and mental freedom of the black race.
So, Black is like the cosmos, vast and untamed,
A river of rhythm where warriors are named.
We are the echoes of ancient songs, the melody of triumph that still belongs.
Black, the ink that draws and writes the truth, a legacy carved in endless strength, We built the bridges, paved the way, and carried the weight, yet never swayed.
Black, the ink that stains history’s page, with so much depth and wisdom, holding galaxies in our eyes, we are a promise in silhouettes.
So, let our rising breeze harp the leaves as we gradually waltz to a season where our children will stop peeping tomorrow from their mother’s back but put on iron shoes to smash the foundries that keep the world in chains for black is not synonymous with lack.