I had a dream that the nation descended on Memphis, Tennessee. We returned to the place where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. last breathed so we could breathe new life into his dream. In the face of threats to teaching Black history, in the face of persistent wealth inequality, we would commence the month of February with a recommitment to truth. My dream was vivid. At the gathering I imagined, many were in attendance: Vice President Kamala Harris, Reverend Al Sharpton, even Spike Lee. Speakers spoke the truth and singers sang new songs of freedom. This Black History Month recommitment ceremony was live-streamed and televised. And it was all captured by a young, local photographer named Tyre Nichols, who said he always wanted “to bring my viewers deep into what I am seeing through my eye and out through my lens.” We saw what he saw. This is how you kick off Black History Month, I thought. Then I woke up.

I woke up to find that the nation had indeed descended on Memphis. Yes, V.P. Harris and Reverend Al and Spike Lee were in attendance. But the reason was death. It was the funeral of 29 year-old Tyre Nichols, who died at the hands, the literal hands, of a unit of the Memphis Police Department. Also in attendance were the families of other victims of police violence including Breonna Taylor, Botham Jean, and George Floyd. Speakers spoke the truth, and singers sang songs of freedom and woe.