It was several minutes before 2:00 am. The dark narrow alley smelled of urine and rotting food. Calvin Tarron pushed his beach cruiser the last few feet towards the dumpster. As he quietly hid his bike behind the dumpster, Calvin heard the scurrying of rats. If there was one thing Calvin hated it was rats, but even rats were not going to distract him. He was determined to mark the third anniversary of his first political protest.
Calvin was one of thousands that day, standing proudly for what he believed for, what he thought were his rights as a citizen, but he learned quickly that the idea of rights were a matter of perception. And those in power didn’t perceive the ongoing protests as rights, but as a movement that could put them out of power, power that had taken them years to amass and they intended to keep that power.