Wake Up, Sleeper

My grandfather used to say "Every shut eye ain’t sleep." Just because someone isn’t moving doesn’t mean they don’t see what’s happening. And just because someone thinks they’re awake doesn’t mean they’ve fully shaken off the sedation of oppression. The real question is: Who’s truly conscious, and who’s just sleepwalking through history?

I’m speaking to those who are still sleeping. Some of us are deep in LaLa Land, unaware that we’re oppressed. Some are playing possum, pretending to be asleep, choosing to ignore the truth out of fear of confrontation. And some are sleepwalking with their eyes wide open, moving through the world unaware of the chains wrapped around them.

When someone decides to take the red pill (peep the Matrix reference) it’s a choice to wake up from a slumber that once felt comforting. After all, ignorance can feel like bliss, an incredible trick of the enemy. But waking up means choosing truth over comfort, awareness over ease, and reality over illusion. And let’s be honest, reality can be painful, disheartening, and uncomfortable.

This is the urgency behind the Apostle Paul’s words in Ephesians 5:14. He wasn’t just offering poetic encouragement, he was sounding an alarm to the people of Ephesus. They had been spiritually groggy, unaware, or even dead to what was happening around them. False beliefs and deceptive influences were infiltrating their community and churches, and Paul was calling them to wake up. Not just to see but to discern. To look to Christ, the Light, for deeper comprehension and revelation. To go beyond surface-level appearances and recognize the motives of those around them.

If you haven’t yet picked up on where I’m landing this plane, we aren’t fighting anything new. Ecclesiastes 1:9 reminds us, “There is nothing new under the sun.” The resistance we see today isn’t unique to this moment. Each generation doesn’t start the battle, they simply step into a war that’s already been waging.

Some stand ready for that tap-in. Others (and I’d argue the majority) would rather tap out, pretending they don’t see the war, hiding behind ignorance, or choosing the blue pill of comfort and compliance. Their eyes may be shut, but they are not asleep.

The Euthanization of Our Consciousness

The truth is, we have been euthanized by oppression. Put to sleep, not through force, but through sedation. The convenience of distractions, the pacification of privilege, the illusion of progress, these have all lulled us into submission. But now, reality is shaking us awake.

The increasing murder of Black bodies. The banning of books. The attacks on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI). The rewriting or outright erasure of Black history in education, media, and legislation. And now? A new push to re-establish segregated spaces.

Tell me, does this sound new to you?

Euthanized. It’s a strong word. So strong that I questioned Holy Spirit’s use when it first came to me. Immediately, we think of putting an animal to sleep, never to awaken. That seems dark, right? It’s done to “take them out of their misery” in the most “humane” way possible. But in this context, we aren’t talking about death, we are talking about sedation. Pacification. The kind that makes suffering feel like comfort.

The Sedation of a People

Because I absolutely love the power of Black empowerment through science fiction, speculative fiction, and Afrofuturism, my mind went straight to HBO’s Lovecraft Country series. I LOVE this series and all it stands for. I’ve watched it several times and have even written an essay on its ability to transcend oppression.

In Episode 2, the audience is confused at first about how are Uncle George and Leti are dancing around in ignorant bliss as if the horrors of the previous night never happened? The main character, Atticus “Tic”, is just as confused as we are until we realize: they have been sedated. Given just enough comfort to forget the truth of what they’ve seen. Uncle George, surrounded by books. Leti, mesmerized by a dreamlike wardrobe. Both oblivious to the danger they’ve already survived and the danger they are still in.

This is our culture.

Even during America’s first Black president’s two-term tenure. Even during Beyoncé’s historic country music album. Even during Vice President Kamala Harris’ historical vice presidency and presidential run. As we celebrate, we may secretly wonder: Are the days of the Freedom Rides (1961) and the Selma to Montgomery March (1965) truly behind us? Do those moments of resistance belong to our past or are they still necessary today?

Personally, I did not think about it beyond the passing of Congressman John Lewis. The “Conscience of Congress” living and breathing was always a stark reminder for me that those days weren’t as ancient as we’d like to think. Now that he is no longer with us, the reality of the construct of time seems more and more distant…historic…ancient.

At one point, I sang that same lullaby of progress. I, too, wanted to believe that we were in a multicultural, inclusive, “post-racial” society, actively righting its past wrongs. But now I see the truth:

We were simply lulled into accepting our comfort in suffering.

We have been euthanized from our own destructiveness because we have been conditioned to celebrate individual success while ignoring the systemic oppression of the collective.

Final Call: Will You Wake Up?

What does it take to wake someone from their slumber? To rise from the dead?

Maybe, for me, the Hillmantok movement was that shaking. The thing that snapped me out of my depressive slumber.

For years, we’d been told that the Black community was too divided to move in unity. But the proof was right there in the numbers—we had mobilized. We had made history. And we had done it together.

Just like that, I was no longer sedated.

Fully aware. Fully awake. And painfully conscious of the battles I had been standing on the sidelines of. The only question now is: Will you wake up too?