Justice & Law Quote by Dexter S. King

There is a quiet audacity in Dexter S. King’s “we could in fact transport a person”: it borrows the language of science fiction to solve a very old political problem - how to make history felt instead of merely learned. The phrasing is deliberately practical, almost sales-demo plain (“in fact,” “actually”), as if the moral stakes of civil rights memory can be settled by better tech. That’s the intent: to argue that immersion can bridge the empathy gap that textbooks, commemorations, and even documentaries often fail to cross.

The “kid” matters. King isn’t addressing hardened ideologues; he’s targeting the post-movement generation for whom civil rights can calcify into iconography: black-and-white footage, holiday rhetoric, names on schools. By choosing a child who “didn’t know what it was like,” he highlights the central vulnerability of democratic memory: once an era becomes curriculum, it risks becoming harmless. “Better appreciate” sounds modest, but it’s doing heavy lifting. Appreciation here isn’t aesthetic; it’s civic comprehension - the kind that clarifies why people marched, what they risked, and what was structurally arranged against them.

The subtext is a critique of distance. If you can’t feel the heat, the fear, the crowds, the police line, you may mistake the movement for inevitability or nostalgia. King’s promise of transportation is also a challenge to today’s passive consumption of justice narratives: don’t just admire the past; enter its contingency, its pressure, its costs. Coming from an activist and the son of Martin Luther King Jr., it’s a plea to keep the movement from becoming a museum exhibit when its unfinished business is still on the street.