Damn straight the revolution will not be televised.

Sometimes, I feel my voice will never be heard. Now matter how loudly I yell, no matter how large a banner I carry, I feel no one is really listening; rather, they are either staring at me as if I have the plague or simply ignoring me altogether. As sad as this seems, I find solace in knowing I'm not the only person harbouring these sentiments - not the most pleasant matter on which to find commonality, I know, but it helps mitigate the loneliness.

On Friday, I ascended the stairs out of the subway tunnel to discover a spark of social upheaval in downtown Toronto: members of the local Tamil population had congregated in the streets to protest the actions by the government forces of Sri Lanka - specifically, their wanton subjugation and slaughter of Tamil citizens - and the subsequent inaction by the global community that prides itself on "stability", "security", "freedom" and "peace". I had a quick chat with a young lady distributing flyers with a fervent determination to have her voice heard, hoping people will understand the plight of her sisters and brothers. I commended her on the work she was doing, though I could not help but remark on the reality of the situation here: as soon as I go home and switch on the news, I will be told that these people in the streets standing up for their rights as human beings are "terrorists". If it isn't awful enough to be repeatedly kicked while you're down, the moment you fight back, you are branded as murderers. It isn't easy having your voice heard when no one else is allowed to understand you.

Yesterday, the World Social Forum concluded in Belém do Pará, Brazil. What exactly is the "World Social Forum", you might ask? Well, if you weren't aware, I don't blame you, for it didn't receive all that much face time on our major media outlets, as most eyes fixed their respective gazes upon the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland. When the world's wealthiest convene to figure out how to fix their crumbling economic model so that they can continue making money for themselves, it seems only fitting that they would bring their cameras and reporters with them. When a group of people convene to sound the death knell of this dilapidated model and propose to supplant it with a more sustainable one built at the grassroots level, not one of us hears so much as a peep. That's not to say this voice has fallen completely on deaf ears; unfortunately, some ears need to hear this voice more than others, and the only voices they hear are telling them what products to buy and what television programs to watch.

Today, we, the students of York University, returned to class. On the surface, it appears to be a joyous occasion, as we can finally salvage our school year and meet our chums whom we haven't seen in nearly three months. Those who know me best know I have an insatiable need to peel back the veneer of anything I see, which is why I have mixed feelings about my return to class. While I am eager to finish my degree - is a degree worth all that much, anyway? - the circumstances surrounding my return are not lost on me: the labour issue was not resolved, the workers were forced back to work by a government whose members, already garnering exorbitant sums of money, didn't hesitate to give itself a twenty-five-percent pay hike in 2007. Mind you, Union machinations aren't exactly sacrosanct, but when its opponent fights equally, if not more, dirty, does it see any alternative? When the golden rule of the game we play is to grab as much as one can by any means necessary, can the Union be faulted for doing the same? Perhaps it is better served trying to change these fetid conditions, but its tactics are beside the point I wish to make. Looking back, I wonder how many people consulted the Union website for updates versus the University website. When your opponent would rather throw millions at lawyers and public relations experts in an effort to defame you than give you a fair shake, it's little wonder why your voice falls on deaf ears.

As is custom in my tales of doom and gloom, there resides a glimmer of hope. In isolation, these voices did not resonate all that well, but together, they can. Certainly, there will be groups of people who are expert in certain causes, but these belong to a much greater cause, thus our myriad voices become one echoing cry for justice, for peace, for respect, for love. This voice will only grow louder and louder, so loud that not a single soul will be able to ignore it, despite the best efforts of the few to foster our silence. No longer will we swallow the swill that says "Leave everything to us!", for, after failing us time and again, everything will be left to us!

As Gil Scott-Heron so eloquently stated, "The revolution will not be televised... The revolution will be live!"