Mr. Trump has changed the narrative. Black people don’t hate the flag, as such; they don’t hate America as such, but they just wanted to draw attention to what we are suffering under the flag. And the police that shot us down, they have a flag somewhere on their uniform. When we go to court, the flag is there—and we can’t get justice. My son’s father-in-law fought in World War II, and he saw his buddies shot down, blown to pieces, on Normandy Beach. So every time he sees the flag, he stands, puts his hand over his heart; not so much for the flag, but for the noble men and women who have died for that flag. But Mr. Trump: When did your father get here from Germany? And you so-called “patriots,” see, when you all came here from Europe, you had a country to come home to. The Statue of Liberty welcomed you: “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” It never was a golden door for us. The first man to die in the Revolutionary War that gave America a nation was a Black man. Black folk died in the War of 1812; Black folk died in the Civil War on both sides, North and South. Black brothers have died in World War I, World War II, Korean Conflict, Vietnam, and the army is full of them now.

Louis Farrakhan Connected to the Carolinas

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