We Shall Overcome

I slip a flowered blouse over my messy chestnut hair. The shirt isn't exactly what people mean by 'wearing red white and blue for the Fourth of July', but I have blue jeans, and a white shirt with red roses. I let slip a tiny sigh, the state our country is in is nothing to celebrate. Besides having a crap president, you would think people living in the 22nd century would have a little more common sense than their predecessors. But no, they seem to have even less.

I remember my great-grandma telling me about the marches and protests they used to have when she was a kid. For civil rights. For gay pride. For women's rights. "You make sure to be the strong woman I know you are." She said to me. But I can't. They have us in an endless loop of infinity, denying us our rights at every turn. "No, you're a woman, you can't enter this sporting event, sorry ma'am.", "'Sorry, you're holding another woman's hand, can't come in here!" At every corner, every opportunity, denying me the right to be myself.

I look around at my room as I put my heels on. White walls, books, a bed, and some plants. My whole room. Being in college, I have a small dorm, but I don't share it with anybody. I wrap a scarf around my neck, and leave the small bedroom. A few of my friends wait for me by the door. "Rose, are you ready?" Emma asks as I fumble with the doorknob. "Yeah, where are we going?" I say. Brent winks at me from next to my door, and I roll my eyes at him. "You'll see!" He says. I look at the only other sensible person in the room, my friend Camila, to see if she will help me. She just smiles. Her smile lights up the room, and when she smiles, the whole world smiles with her. Emma and Brent are total goofballs, but Camila is the calming one, always ready to save the day. Sometimes it is a really special gift, but sometimes it is just annoying; we all want to just scream at each other at one time or another.

We leave the tall white dorm building, along with a couple other groups of students. I glance at some of the other people, all dressed in red, white, and blue. The city lights of San Francisco blind us a little, coming out of the darkened building. We duck under some construction, towards the park next to campus. A tall hill shrouded in starlight stands tall. Some of our classmates smoke e-cigars by a tree, avoiding the smoke, we start up the path to the hill. Some middle age men sit on the construction planks. Not considering their threat to us, we keep walking, our backs to them. Camila takes my hand, and starts up the hill.

Flash! In a heartbeat, something silver flashes right by my head. Camila falls to the ground, and I see the blood that surrounds her earlobe. Lucky, the knife that cut her only grazed her ear. I look back to the men sitting on the rafters. They have another knife in hand, pointing it at me. I hear them shout insults at us, calling us names and spitting at us.

"Women shouldn't hold hands!" They shout. A tear rolls down Camila's face. I squeeze her hand even harder, but she pulls away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Emma and Brent dialing the police. "Tell them to stop..." Camila whispers. I leave her side and wave my hands at Brent, who has the phone, signaling him to stop. The police will only make this worse. I tear off a tiny bit of my shirt, and place it on Camila's ear, she sits up. I take her hand and help her up. Emma and Brent signal for us to leave, ​immediately, but Camila shakes her head and starts back up the hill.

I exchange quick looks with the two, who are staring, dumbstruck, at Camila. We follow her. She stops at the very top, and leans against the wire fence. Her eyes shine as she stares out. When I get to the top, I see what she sees. Fireworks. Brilliantly glimmering in the night, they sparkle as the burst out in a million different colors. I slide down next to her, and put my head on her shoulder. "I don't like the world we live in." She says. "But it is reality." I let out a tiny sigh. "But look." She adds. "Fireworks.

The next day, I wake up, and look around at my white walls, my plants, my white bedspread. I realized I had had enough. I remembered a book my great-grandma read me when I was little. It was called the ​House With the Big Red Splotch. It was a book about a man who lived in a perfect neighborhood, and one day, a bird dropped a big can of red paint on his house. Instead of painting over it, like his neighbors wanted, he painted his whole house in a mural, to show that he was different. This inspired all his neighbors to find their true selves and reflect it through art. I drive out to the paint store, and paint all over my white walls. I paint an ocean, I paint my pain. I paint a forest, I paint my joy. When I am done, the once-plain dorm room is alight with color.

Next, I take a big slab of cardboard, and write ​WE SHALL OVERCOME ​in big letters. Just like grandma said. I remember the song she sang to me. "We shall overcome... We shall overcome... We shall overcome, someday... " I smile at the thought. I run outside, to find Camila and Emma and Brent. I gather them in a bustling courtyard, and stand tall on one of the stone benches. I take a deep breath and start singing. "We shall overcome... we shall overcome... some day. Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe, we shall overcome... some day." My voice is quiet, but some students stop to watch. Brent and Emma take my sign, and hold it high, while Camila's voice joins mine. People start to sing with us, and even some teachers join in. Students hold hands and sing in harmony. It is beautiful. "You know, the other day, I was wrong." Camila says. "We can change our reality. We can overcome."