“Mic check, mic check. We’re gonna try something different,” a young Black woman bellowed into the bullhorn, joined by two young marching band drummers.
“You, can’t, stop, the revolution”, she sang. “You can’t stop the revolution” louder this time. Hundreds followed behind, bopping to the rhythm.
The crowd had been marching for hours, steadily growing as the night progressed, picking up angry and lonely mourners along the way.
