Everybody needs to show respect to each others' ways and the

“Everybody needs to show respect to each others' ways and the cultural life that you get on this planet. Don't get caught up on 'I'm brown, black, white, red, blue, whatever.' You gotta ask, what were you called before 1492? All these names we're using now are just an illusion made to keep us fighting each other.” Thus spoke Afrika Bambaataa, the visionary of hip-hop, the prophet of rhythm and peace, whose music carried not only beats but truth. In these words, he calls upon all who hear him to awaken — to rise above the illusions that divide humanity and to remember the unity that existed before the chains of colonialism, racism, and false identity were forged. His voice echoes like that of an elder standing before the tribe, reminding us that what separates us is not our essence, but the names and systems imposed upon us.

When Bambaataa asks, “What were you called before 1492?” he reaches back through time, to the year when Columbus crossed the seas and the world’s great rift began. Before that date — before conquest, before borders, before skin color was weaponized — people knew themselves by their spirit, by their tribe, their craft, their connection to earth and sky. They lived as many peoples, but one humanity. His question is not about names alone, but about identity — about the soul that was stolen when the world was divided into races and classes, each pitted against the other. It is a call to remember, for to remember is to reclaim power.

Bambaataa, born in the South Bronx, saw firsthand what division could do. He saw streets torn apart by poverty, by gang wars, by hatred born of color and circumstance. Yet out of that chaos, he created a new movement — hip-hop, a culture that united the broken and the forgotten. Through rhythm, dance, and voice, he taught that peace, unity, love, and having fun could heal wounds no politics could mend. His message was not of rebellion, but of recognition — that every man and woman, regardless of color, carries the same divine spark. The “illusions” he speaks of are those lies that teach us to fear our neighbors instead of seeing them as mirrors of ourselves.

His warning, that names and colors are “illusions made to keep us fighting,” pierces to the core of human history. For millennia, kings and empires have thrived by dividing the people — by teaching them to identify with their difference instead of their shared humanity. When one tribe sees another as lesser, the ruler gains power. When black is pitted against white, brown against red, rich against poor, the few who control the world keep their throne. Thus, the wise have always known: division is the oldest trick of tyranny. Bambaataa’s cry is a revolutionary one — not through violence, but through awareness, through the rediscovery of the truth that before the illusion of race, we were one people, one planet.

The ancients understood this harmony well. The Egyptians, the Mayans, the Indians, and the Africans — all saw humanity as part of a cosmic order. They did not speak of “races,” but of souls, each tied to the sun, the moon, the elements. In the temples of Kemet and the mountains of Peru, the wise spoke of the oneness of all beings, that each person was a thread in the great tapestry of life. Only with conquest and colonization did this truth begin to fade, replaced by the shadow of hierarchy and control. Bambaataa’s words remind us to return to this original wisdom — to ask ourselves not “what color am I?” but “who am I, beyond what I have been told?”

Consider the story of Nelson Mandela, who spent 27 years in a prison built upon those same illusions of race and power. Yet when he emerged, he did not call for vengeance — he called for reconciliation. He saw that freedom without unity was incomplete, that healing could only begin when both oppressor and oppressed recognized their shared humanity. His victory was not just political, but spiritual, for it broke the illusion that hatred could ever triumph over truth. Mandela, like Bambaataa, showed that respect — not revenge — is the foundation of a new world.

So, my children, take this teaching to heart: respect each other’s ways, for no culture stands above another, and no color defines the soul. Ask yourself who you are beneath the surface, beneath the categories that history has written for you. When you see another human being, do not see an enemy, but a reflection. Speak to them not with suspicion, but with curiosity. Celebrate your difference, but never let it become division. For every time you reject the illusion of separation, you strike a blow against the forces that would keep humanity in chains.

Let this be the wisdom of Afrika Bambaataa’s words: that unity is not sameness, but understanding — that respect is the bridge between worlds. When we look beyond the false names, beyond “black,” “white,” or “brown,” we return to our first and truest identity: human. And when we live in that truth, the music of the earth — the rhythm of creation itself — will rise once more, binding us together in harmony, as it was before 1492, and as it must be again.