0:26 Á¦ ¾î¸°½ÃÀýÀº ÀÌ°°Àº Áú¹®µé·Î ²Ë Â÷ ÀÖ¾úÁö¿ä.¾ÆÀ̷μÀÇ ÀϹÝÀûÀÎ Àϵé°ú ±×°ÍÀ» ±ú´Ý´Â °ÍÀº ¶§¶§·ÎÁ¤È®È÷ ÀÌÇØ´Â ¾ÈµÆÁö¸¸ ºÎ¸ð´Ô ¸»¾¸À» µè´Â °ÍÀÌ °¡Àå ÁÁÀº ¹æ¹ýÀ̾úÁö¿ä.±×µéÀÌ Á¦°¡ ºñÆÇÀû »ç°í¸¦ ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ¿øÄ¡ ¾Ê¾Ò´ø °ÍÀº ¾Æ´Õ´Ï´Ù.±×µéÀÇ À°¾Æ´Â Àú¿Í Á¦ ÇüÁ¦µéÀÌ Çö½ÇÀ» ÀÌÇØÇÏ´Â °Í°úÀúÈñ°¡ ºÒ°¡ÇÇÇÏ°Ô Çö½ÇÀ» ¹Þ¾ÆµéÀÏ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù´Â °Í »çÀÌÀDZäÀå°¨À» ¿ÏÈÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ̾ú½À´Ï´Ù. My childhood was abound with questions like this.Normal things about being a kid and realizing that sometimes,it was best to listen to my parents even when I didn't exactly understand why.And it's not that they didn't want me to think critically.Their parenting always sought to reconcile the tensionbetween having my siblings and I understand the realities of the world,while ensuring that we never accepted the status quo as inevitable.
0:50 Àú´Â ±×°Í ¾È¿¡¼, ±×¸®°í ±×°Í ÀÚü°¡¸ñÀûÀÌ ¸Å¿ì ºÐ¸íÇÑ ±³À°ÀÇ ÇÑ ÇüÅÂÀÓÀ» ±ú´Ý°Ô µÇ¾ú½À´Ï´Ù.Á¦°¡ °¡Àå ÁÁ¾ÆÇÏ´Â ±³À°ÀÚ Áß ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÎ,ºê¶óÁúÀÇ ÀúÀÚÀÌÀÚ ÇÐÀÚÀÎ ÆÄ¿ï·Î ÇÁ·¹À̸®´Â±³À°ÀÌ ºñÆÇÀûÀÎ ±ú¿ìħ°ú °øµ¿ÀÇ Àΰ£¼ºÀ» À§ÇÑ µµ±¸·Î¼»ç¿ëµÇ¾î¾ß ÇÒ ÇÊ¿ä°¡ ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ºÐ¸íÈ÷ ¸»ÇÏ°í ÀÖ½À´Ï´Ù.±×ÀÇ °¡Àå À¯¸íÇÑ Àú¼ÀÎ "¾ï¾ÐµÈ ÀÚÀÇ ±³À°ÇÐ"¿¡¼ ±×´Â"ŸÀÎÀÌ Àΰ£ÀÌ µÇ°íÀÚ ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ¹æÇØÇÏ´Â ÀÚ°¡ ÀÖ´Ù¸é±×´Â ÁøÁ¤ÇÑ Àΰ£ÀÌ µÉ ¼ö ¾ø´Ù" ¶ó°í ¾ð±ÞÇÕ´Ï´Ù. I came to realize that this, in and of itself,was a very purposeful form of education.One of my favorite educators, Brazilian author and scholar Paulo Freire,speaks quite explicitly about the need for educationto be used as a tool for critical awakening and shared humanity.In his most famous book, "Pedagogy of the Oppressed,"he states, "No one can be authentically humanwhile he prevents others from being so."
1:52 ´ÜÁö Á¦°¡ ¹ã¿¡ ¹«»çÈ÷ ±Í°¡ÇÒ¼ö ÀÖµµ·Ï Çϱâ À§ÇØÁ¦ ¾î¸°½ÃÀýÀÇ ÀϺθ¦ ¹ÚÅ»Çؾ߸¸ ÇÏ´Â °Íó·³ ´À²¼À» ¶§±×°ÍÀÌ ºÎ¸ð´Ô¿¡°Ô ¾ó¸¶³ª ¾î·Æ°í, ºÒ°øÆòÇغ¸¿´À»Áö »ý°¢ÇØ º¾´Ï´Ù. I think of how hard it must have been, how profoundly unfair it must have feltfor them to feel like they had to strip away parts of my childhoodjust so that I could come home at night.
3:38 ÀúÀÇ ¸ðµç ÈæÀΠģ±¸µéÀº , »ç¶÷µéÀÌ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¸á¶ó´Ñ »ö¼Ò¸¦µÎ·Á¿ö ÇØ¾ß ÇÒ ¹«¾ð°¡¿Í µ¿ÀϽà ÇÒ ¶§¿ì¸®°¡ ºÒ°øÆòÇÑ ´ë¿ì¸¦ ´çÇÒ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ¾Ë°Ô µÇ¾úÀ» ¶§ºÎÅͿ츮¿¡°Ô ÁÖ¾îÁø ¸Þ¼¼Áö, À̾߱âµé°ú ´õºÒ¾î ÀÚ¶ú½À´Ï´Ù. All of my black friends were raised with the same message,the talk, given to us when we became old enoughto be mistaken for a nail ready to be hammered to the ground,when people made our melanin synonymous with something to be feared.
4:08 ±×·¯³ª ¿ì¸®´ÂÀÌ·¯ÇÑ °ÍµéÀÇ ´ë»óÀÌ ¾Æ´Õ´Ï´Ù.¿Ö³ÄÇÏ¸é ¿ì¸®´Â ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¸öÀÌ ÃѾËÀÇ Èñ»ý¾çÀÌ ¾Æ´Ñ¿¬À» ³¯¸®°í Áٳѱ⸦ ÇÏ°í ¹è°¡ ¾ÆÇö§±îÁö ¿ô´Â °ÍÀÓÀ»ÀÌÇØÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖµµ·Ï ¿ì¸®¸¦ ±æ·¯ÁØ ºÎ¸ð´ÔÀÌ Àֱ⠶§¹®ÀÔ´Ï´Ù.Ç׺¹À» Ç¥ÇöÇϱâ À§ÇØ ¼ÕÀ» µå´Â °Í ¸»°íµµ,¼ö¾÷ ½Ã°£¿¡ ¼Õµå´Â ¹æ¹ýÀ»,¿ì¸®°¡ °¡Ä¡¾ø´Â Á¸Àç¶ó´Â »ý°¢À» ¹ö·Á¾ß ÇÔÀ»¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô °¡¸£ÃÄÁØ ¼±»ý´ÔÀÌ Àֱ⠶§¹®ÀÔ´Ï´Ù.ÈæÀÎÀÇ »ý¸íÀÌ Áß¿äÇÏ´Ù ÇÒ ¶§, ´Ù¸¥ »ý¸íÀÌ Áß¿äÇÏÁö ¾Ê¾Æ¼°¡ ¾Æ´Ï¶ó³Ê¹«³ª ¸¹Àº °ÍµéÀÌ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ »ý¸íÀÌ Áß¿äÄ¡ ¾Ê´Ù°í ¸»ÇÒ ¶§´ÜÁö ¿ì¸®°¡ µÎ·Á¿ò ¾øÀ̵µ Á¸ÀçÇÒ °¡Ä¡°¡ Àֱ⠶§¹®ÀÔ´Ï´Ù.Àú´Â Á¦ ¾ÆµéÀÌ Å¾°ú µ¿½Ã¿¡ ÁËÀÎÀ¸·Î ÀνĵÇÁö ¾Ê°í±×ÀÇ ¼Õ¿¡ µé·Á ÀÖ´Â Àå³°¨ÀÌ,´Ù¸¥ °ÍÀ¸·Î ¿ÀÇØ ¹ÞÁö ¾Ê´Â ±×·± ¼¼»ó¿¡ »ì°í ½Í½À´Ï´Ù. But this cannot be what defines us.Because we have parents who raised us to understandthat our bodies weren't meant for the backside of a bullet,but for flying kites and jumping rope, and laughing until our stomachs burst.We had teachers who taught us how to raise our hands in class,and not just to signal surrender,and that the only thing we should give upis the idea that we aren't worthy of this world.So when we say that black lives matter, it's not because others don't,it's simply because we must affirm that we are worthy of existing without fear,when so many things tell us we are not.I want to live in a world where my sonwill not be presumed guilty the moment he is born,where a toy in his hand isn't mistaken for anything other than a toy.
4:46 Àú´Â »õ·Î¿î ¼¼»óÀ» °Ç¼³ÇÏ´Â°Ô ºÒ°¡´ÉÇÏ´Ù°í »ý°¢ÇÏÁö ¾Ê½À´Ï´Ù.¾ÆÀÌÀÇ À̸§ÀÌ Æ¼¼ÅÃ÷ ¶Ç´Â ºñ¼®¿¡ ¾²ÀÏ ÇÊ¿ä°¡ ¾ø´Â ¼¼»ó,¾î¶²ÀÌÀÇ »îÀÇ °¡Ä¡°¡±×µéÀÌ ¼ûÀ» ½¬´Â Á¸Àç¶ó´Â »ç½Ç ÀÌ¿Ü¿¡ ´Ù¸¥ ¾î¶² °ÍÀ¸·Îµµ °áÁ¤µÇÁö ¾Ê´Â ¼¼»ó,¿ì¸®µé °³°³ÀÎ ¸ðµÎ°¡ ¼ûÀ» ½¯ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ¼¼»óÀ»¿ä. And I refuse to accept that we can't build this world into something new,some place where a child's namedoesn't have to be written on a t-shirt, or a tombstone,where the value of someone's lifeisn't determined by anything other than the fact that they had lungs,a place where every single one of us can breathe.