In the echoes of that tragic day, when George Floyd’s breath was stolen beneath the knee of injustice, a message reverberated like a war horn across the land: "You are under siege." To many, it felt like a single tragedy. But to those who saw clearly, it was an ancient attack in a modern cloak—a continuation of centuries-old warfare, waged not with swords and spears but with biased policies, economic sabotage, and the silent complicity of power. Imagine this: it is the Victorian era, and high upon a stormy hill stands a magnificent castle—the collective soul, strength, and heritage of Black America. A proud and enduring structure, built stone by stone from the pain of slavery, the fire of the Civil Rights Movement, and the iron will of generations who refused to bow. But beyond the valley, in the shadows, camps stir. An invading army—white supremacists, systemic racism, and institutional control—creeps forward with calculated intent. They seek not just to conquer the castle but to make its owners forget it was ever theirs to begin with. They bring propaganda instead of scrolls. Instead of battering rams, they wield policies disguised as reform. Instead of knights, they send out laws and enforcers cloaked in neutrality but sharpened against black skin. Yet the mistake of the castle dwellers—a recurring and tragic one—is their yearning to be liked by the invaders. To dance at their balls, speak softly in their court, and wear their garments of approval. They paint their own walls with portraits that do not resemble them. They hope that smiles will shield them from arrows. But this is not how castles survive. The lesson of George Floyd’s murder is not just grief—it is strategy. The castle must remember its ancient creed: "Strength in unity. No crack in the wall. No hand unguarded." Black communities must unite, not in bitterness, but in self-determination. Families must fortify their defenses: share knowledge, wealth, protection, and purpose. Every neighbor must be another brick in the wall. Every weakness will be exploited—so let no weakness remain. And when the enemy sets up camp outside the gates? When they whisper in political halls and plot in boardrooms? Then must the defenders act like their warrior ancestors: cast hot oils, burn down their lies, and demand justice with the fury of flame. Your lawyers are your elite guard, clad in gold and intellect. Lift them up like champions. They wield the law like spears, parry attacks with ancient cases, and hold shields of precedent high above the people’s heads. Raise more of them. Fund them. Educate them. Honor them. Let no brother or sister face trial unarmed. Do not whimper. Do not hide. This castle was forged in battle and crowned with perseverance. Take the high ground, speak the truth boldly, and fight atop the walls with dignity. Train your children. Do not let them walk out into the world unarmed in mind and heart. Teach them the names of kings and queens of their history, teach them how to speak with fire and walk with peace. Prepare them for the whispers, the stares, the subtle daggers. Teach them to stand unshaken. And above all, remember: Freedom is not begged for—it is fortified, defended, and lived. George Floyd's final breaths must never be in vain. They must ring like the clang of the warning bell atop the highest tower. Let it echo through every generation: “You are the keepers of the castle. Never forget who you are. Never let them in. And never lower your flag.”