The Power of the Watch

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The Power of the Watch: Why We Won't Be Their Target There is a specific kind of strength in watching. Right now, across Georgia and the country, the air feels different. We are seeing a mandate that feels like an invitation to target the very people who built this state. We hear the rhetoric about "getting rid of" us, and we see the way hate has consumed t he common sense of our neighbors. It is heartbreaking to realize that so many felt their vote was a green light to attack others. The instinct—the one that keeps you up at night—is to run into the streets. To scream back. To meet that fire with an equal flame. But we have to be smarter than our anger. The Trap of the Target We have to understand the strategy being used against us. They want a spectacle. They want a reason to point the finger and say, "See? This is why we need to be 'tougher'." * Protest without a plan is just a target. If we rush out in pure reactivity, we give them exactly what the...

The Corporation Exposed!

The Corporation Exposed!

The corporation thrives on illusion. Its greatest trick is not its money, not its laws, not its armies — it is the illusion of power itself. Like the Wizard of Oz, it projects a fire-breathing monster onto the wall: booming voice, smoke, flames, terror. The people bow, afraid to question.

But pull the curtain back, and the truth is small. Behind the monster are not giants, but little men — trembling, pulling levers, desperate to protect their profits. The spectacle was never strength. It was always fear.

And in America, the monster has always been given a Black face. For centuries, misinformation has painted Black lives as the threat. 

During Reconstruction, newspapers warned of “Negro rule” to justify Jim Crow. 

During the Civil Rights Movement, organizers were smeared as “outside agitators” to excuse police batons and dogs. In the 1990s, politicians invented the myth of “super-predators” to expand prisons and strip young Black men of their humanity. 

And today, protest is branded as “riot,” demands for equality are called “chaos,” and the movement for Black lives is painted as terrorism.

Each flame on the wall serves the same purpose: to hide the machinery behind the curtain. While people tremble before shadows, corporations profit from fear. Prisons become billion-dollar industries. Bail becomes a business model. 

Weapons manufacturers make fortunes arming police against the very communities they are sworn to protect. Politicians trade in fear to win elections, then sign contracts and policies that funnel money upward while stripping resources from Black schools, hospitals, and neighborhoods.

The brilliance of misinformation is that it does not have to convince — it only has to confuse. Drown the people in noise, and the truth loses its gravity. Repeat the lie until the lie feels safe. Keep the flames dancing on the wall so no one asks who is working the machine.

But once the curtain is pulled back, the game is over. The smoke clears. The fire dies. The monster vanishes. And the wizard — the corporation — is revealed for what it is: small, scared people hiding behind noise, terrified that we might see the truth.

The fire was never real. The curtain was. And the cost of that illusion has always been paid in Black lives.

Justice takes resources — stand with us.