What some call black history is simply American history. The first casualty of the Revolution was a black Patriot, and his death was the spark that lit freedom’s flame.
By: Ryan Ramsey
The story begins on March 5, 1770, in Boston Massachusetts. A nation living under British tyranny is about to reach the boiling point.
Crispus Attucks and some co-workers were having a few drinks after work. They were pissed off about economic conditions due to the British occupation.
Some Redcoats come to the bar and harsh the mellow of Crispus and the boys.
Crispus Attucks and his co-workers chase them out into the street to give them a taste of what you get when you want to bully a blue collar Boston man, especially one who already had been a slave once.
The crunching of powdered faces ensued.
The cowardly limey shoots Crispus down. His Redcoat friends open fire on the angry crowd, a crowd who is just as angry as any good working class Bostoner is today about someone who won’t fight, but instead reaches for a gun.
Crispus Attucks died on his feet, swinging, like a man. He may have been born a slave, but he died a free man in a courageous manner, ultimately leading to millions of us living free.
The anger over his death and the anger over the Boston Massacre fueled a righteous indignation only the blood and guts of the tyrants could squelch.
The camel’s back was broken, and what would soon become the spirit of ’76 was born.
Hail to Crispus Attucks, an American Hero…….hold the hyphen.
The Proud Tribalist 