I don't care if you're Christian, you're Muslim, you're gay

In the voice of Logic, the modern poet of unity, resounds a truth as ancient as the stars: “I don’t care if you’re Christian, you’re Muslim, you’re gay, you’re straight — I am here to fight for your equality. Because I believe that we are all born equal, but we are not treated equally, and that is why we must fight.” These words, though spoken in the cadence of our age, echo the same eternal cry that has guided prophets, philosophers, and revolutionaries across the centuries. It is the cry of justice—the demand that humanity remember what it has forgotten: that all are born equal, though the world has built walls to deny it.

The meaning of this quote lies not in mere tolerance, but in love made active—the fight for equality as the highest expression of compassion. Logic, a man of mixed race and diverse identity, speaks not as one who observes injustice from afar, but as one who has felt it burn within his own blood. His declaration transcends religion, sexuality, and tribe; it calls upon the listener to rise above division and see the divine spark within every being. In saying “I don’t care who you are,” he rejects the labels that fracture the human soul, affirming that dignity is not a privilege but a birthright. Yet, he reminds us that this birthright is not self-fulfilling—it must be defended, fought for, and reclaimed, for the world is not yet just.

The ancients, too, knew this struggle. In the time of the Hebrew prophets, Isaiah thundered against the oppressors of his day, crying out that righteousness must flow “like a mighty river.” In Greece, Socrates drank the hemlock rather than betray his truth. In India, Ashoka, once a conqueror, turned from bloodshed to peace, declaring all faiths worthy of respect. Through every age, the wise have known that equality is not granted by decree, but born in the courage of those who refuse to look away. Logic’s words belong to this same lineage: they are a modern psalm of moral rebellion, a song for the unity of humankind.

Consider the life of Nelson Mandela, who was caged for twenty-seven years for daring to believe that black and white could live as equals. The world saw him as a prisoner, but his spirit was freer than those who chained him. When he emerged from his cell, he did not seek vengeance, but reconciliation. His fight was not against men, but against injustice itself. This is the same spirit that breathes through Logic’s declaration. To fight for equality is not to wage war upon others—it is to wage war upon hatred, upon ignorance, upon the ancient illusion that difference divides us.

The origin of Logic’s words arises from both personal truth and the collective conscience of humanity. He speaks as one who has witnessed the scars of division—in race, in creed, in love—and refuses to let them define us. His art, his voice, becomes a vessel for the eternal struggle of humankind: to live in a world that honors every soul equally. He reminds us that though we are born equal, society has twisted that birthright into hierarchy and prejudice. And thus, we must fight—not with fists or fury, but with courage, empathy, and the unwavering conviction that justice belongs to all.

Yet, this fight is not waged on grand stages alone. It lives in the quiet choices of daily life—in how we speak to one another, in how we listen to those unlike ourselves, in whether we dare to stand beside the oppressed when silence is safer. The fight for equality is fought in classrooms, in workplaces, in homes, and in hearts. It is fought every time one human being refuses to let another be diminished by the blindness of others. And though the battle is endless, each act of compassion becomes a sword of light against the darkness.

The lesson, then, is this: Do not wait for equality to be handed down by kings or governments. Become its warrior. See beyond the masks of difference, for every creed and color, every orientation and faith, are but rivers returning to the same ocean. When you see injustice, speak. When you witness hatred, stand. When you meet a stranger, see in them a reflection of your own soul. That is how the fight is won—not in a single moment of glory, but in the steady, sacred rhythm of conscience made action.

So let these words of Logic be carved into the hearts of the living: We are all born equal—but we are not yet treated equally, and that is why we must fight. The battle for equality is the inheritance of every generation. To fight for one is to fight for all; to remain silent is to betray the divine in oneself. Stand, then, as the ancients stood—brave, compassionate, unyielding—and let the fire of justice burn in you until the world itself is remade in the image of unity.