The Bears and the Bulls in the Black Community.

 

The Bears and the Bulls in the Black Community.

In every community there are protectors.

People who may not always be loud, visible, or constantly speaking — but who are always watching, always listening, and always measuring the moment.

In the Black community, those protectors have often taken the form of what I call the Bears and the Bulls.

They are the old-school activists.

The seasoned organizers.

The church mothers and fathers.

The neighborhood veterans of struggle.

They understand the times.

They have seen cycles of political promises, exploitation, neglect, and awakening. They have watched leaders rise and fall. They have witnessed movements begin with hope and sometimes drift away from the people they were meant to serve.

Because of that experience, the Bears and the Bulls do not rush.

They observe.

Like bears, they sometimes appear to be in hibernation — quiet, patient, and deliberate. They are not easily provoked into reaction because they know that wisdom requires listening before speaking.

But make no mistake.

When the community has been pushed too far…

when the exploitation becomes too obvious…

when the dignity of our people is threatened…

the awakening happens.

And when it does, it is powerful.

Like bulls, they move with strength and clarity. They stand up for the community. They protect the next generation. They remind the world that Black communities are not leaderless and not defenseless.

The recent political moment surrounding Jasmine Crockett has stirred something familiar among many longtime community advocates. It has reminded people that young leaders stepping forward to represent our communities must be protected, supported, and encouraged — not undermined or exploited.

The Bears and the Bulls recognize something important:

Our children are trying to serve.

They are stepping into arenas that are often hostile, complicated, and politically dangerous. They need elders who understand the terrain and who are willing to stand beside them.

That is what the Bears and Bulls do.

They guard the legacy of past struggles.

They protect the dignity of the present.

And they help prepare the path for the future.

So when you begin to hear the voices of those seasoned elders again — the pastors, the organizers, the civil rights veterans, the neighborhood historians — understand what is happening.

The quiet season is ending.

The watchers are speaking.

The protectors are rising.

Because the time has come to make something clear:

Our communities are not here to be used.

Our children are not stepping forward to be sacrificed in someone else’s political strategy.

They are stepping forward to lead.

And the Bears and the Bulls are awake now.