Surrounded by office blocks and starbucks, boxed in, for now, with plywood, Abraham Lincoln is holding a letter to Manchester. To his brothers and sisters, Thank you for joining our fight and for downing your tools as we fought for justice and what is right.
Whilst the mill owners thought only of the costs incurred, kept sweating over timesheets and cotton loads, you thought of the lives yet to be lived free from slavery and for what is good for all humankind. You spoke of emancipation and showed your solidarity when you had hardly enough to feed or clothe your little ones lying in the slums.
You were not swayed by the propaganda of your nation, by the petty mindedness of your landlords and their accountants. When the cotton was delivered, you simply stopped spinning. Stilled, you could see and hear, breathe and remember how those selfserving masters massacred and killed in the name of progress. Theirs. There is nought so violent as the status quo.
Stop writing and filing and look up and out of the window at the man with a letter in his hand and remember the working men and women to whom it is addressed. Who stopped the deafening sound of the industrial revolution and who knew humanity and the deep southern sun could pierce the smog and grime of this city. This nation led by the same ruling class now as then.
