It is im­por­tant to us that we un­der­stand that move­ments are not begun by any one per­son. That this move­ment ac­tu­ally was begun in 1619 when black peo­ple were brought here in chains and at the bot­toms of boats. And cer­tainly we should be re­minded that it is the com­bined ef­fort of so many in­cred­i­bly coura­geous and bold and fear­less and wise peo­ple that some, you will never know their names. But you should know that they too are co-​creators of what it is that we are ex­pe­ri­enc­ing and par­tic­i­pat­ing in today.

With that being said, our role has been to re­mind us of our hu­man­ity. To re­mind us that black lives mat­ter, too. To re­mind us that we are still liv­ing in a time when that is a con­tested state­ment. And it should not be.



(...) my cit­i­zen­ship is con­di­tional¹. This is the harsh² re­al­ity for black peo­ple in Amer­ica today. That we are ex­pected to par­tic­i­pate in democ­racy while re­ceiv­ing con­di­tional cit­i­zen­ship in re­turn.



(...)

In 2009, Oscar Grant was shot at a BART³ sta­tion plat­form just three blocks from my home on New Year’s Day. His last words to the world were, “You shot me. I have a daugh­ter.” (...)

In 2011, an in­no­cent man named Troy Davis was put to death in Geor­gia.

In 2012, Jor­dan Davis was ex­e­cuted in Jack­sonville, Florida for being guilty of play­ing his music too loud in a gas sta­tion. His killer im­me­di­ately af­ter­wards went home and ate pizza with his girl­friend. (...)

In 2013, George Zim­mer­man was ac­quit­ted in the mur­der of Trayvon Mar­tin.

In 2014, Michael Brown was mur­dered just steps from his mother’s home in Fer­gu­son, Mis­souri. And just two months later, 12-​year-old Tamir Rice was shot and killed by po­lice of­fi­cers in Cleve­land while play­ing alone in a park. (...)



We’ve been liv­ing in an era where every­thing and noth­ing is about race. Where ex­pec­ta­tions of the events that I just de­scribed are often cast aside⁴ as the re­sult of a few bad ap­ples, or an un­for­tu­nate con­se­quence of what hap­pens to peo­ple who don’t try hard enough to suc­ceed.



Each year, there are more than one thou­sand fatal shoot­ings that occur by on-​duty po­lice of­fi­cers. Each year, less than five of those shoot­ings on av­er­age re­sult in a charge of mur­der or manslaugh­ter against those of­fi­cers. Now, in the last few years the num­ber of of­fi­cers who are being held ac­count­able has tripled, but let’s put this into con­text: from five to fif­teen every year. It’s nowhere near close to enough. It is in no way the so­lu­tion to po­lice vi­o­lence and po­lice bru­tal­ity. The so­lu­tion to po­lice vi­o­lence and po­lice bru­tal­ity is not to lock up killer cops. The so­lu­tion is to reimag­ine what kind of safety do we want and de­serve.



This gen­er­a­tion of black re­sis­tance says that we are not sat­is­fied with the crumbs that may fall from the table of power, and we are not sat­is­fied with merely sit­ting at the ta­bles of power. This gen­er­a­tion of black re­sis­tance, of black or­ga­niz­ing, says that we aim to com­pletely trans­form the way that power is dis­trib­uted, the way that power func­tions. And that we aim for a new kind of power that is in col­lab­o­ra­tion rather than in com­pe­ti­tion. [ap­plause]

This is very im­por­tant. This is very vital. Black lives have al­ways mat­tered, we have al­ways been im­por­tant, we have al­ways met suf­fer­ing, we have al­ways suc­ceeded, re­gard­less. And now is the time. I ain’t wait­ing. I ain’t wait­ing. I have been born in this coun­try. I’m 28-​years-old. Born and raised in Lon­don. And for a time, every black per­son un­der­stands and re­al­izes the first time you are re­minded that you were black. You re­mem­ber. Every black per­son in here re­mem­bered when an­other per­son re­minded you that you were black.



I need you guys to un­der­stand. I need you guys to un­der­stand. I need you to un­der­stand how painful this shit is. I need you to un­der­stand how painful it is. To be re­minded every day that your race means noth­ing. And that isn’t the case any­more. There is never a case any­more. We are going to try it today. We are a phys­i­cal rep­re­sen­ta­tion of our sup­port for George Floyd. We are a phys­i­cal rep­re­sen­ta­tion in our sup­port for San­dra Bland. We are a phys­i­cal rep­re­sen­ta­tion on our sup­port for Trayvon Mar­tin. We are a phys­i­cal rep­re­sen­ta­tion of our sup­port for Stephen Lawrence, for Mark Dug­gan.



It is very, very im­por­tant that we keep con­trol to this mo­ment and we make this as peace­ful as pos­si­ble. We make this as peace­ful and as or­ga­nized as pos­si­ble. Be­cause you know what guys, they want us to mess up. They want us to be dis­or­ga­nized, but not today. Not today. Not today. (beep¹).



This mes­sage is specif­i­cally for black men. Black men [Boyega stops the speech and starts cry­ing]. Black men, black men, we need to take care of our black women. We need to care of them. [with a bro­ken voice]. They are us. They are us. They are our fu­ture. We can­not de­mo­nize our own. We are the pil­lars of the fam­ily. Imag­ine this, a na­tion that is set up with in­di­vid­ual fam­i­lies that are thriv­ing, that are healthy, that com­mu­ni­cate, that raise their chil­dren in love. Have a bet­ter rate of be­com­ing bet­ter human be­ings. And that’s what we need to cre­ate. Black men, it starts with you.



Hey, it’s bad man. We can’t be trust no more. We have to be bet­ter. You don’t un­der­stand. I’m speak­ing to you from my heart. Look, I don’t know if I’m going to have a ca­reer off that this (beep¹).



Today is about in­no­cent peo­ple who were halfway through that process. We don’t know what George Floyd could have achieved. We don’t know what San­dra Bland could have achieved, but today we’re going to make sure that that won’t be an alien thought to our young ones. I’m sure you all came today, you left your kids, and when you see your kids, they’re aim­lessly play­ing. They don’t un­der­stand what’s going on. Today’s the day that we re­mind them that we are ded­i­cated, and this is a life­long ded­i­ca­tion.Guys, we don’t leave here and stop. We don’t leave here and stop. This is longevity².



Some of you are artists. Some of you are bankers. Some of you are lawyers. Some of you own shop stores, you are im­por­tant. Your in­di­vid­ual power, your in­di­vid­ual right is very, very im­por­tant. We can all join to­gether to make this a bet­ter world. We can all do it to­gether to make this spe­cial. We can all join to­gether.