The Revolution will not be streamed
In 1970, the world stood on a fault line of upheaval. The civil rights movement of the 60s had forced America to confront its racism, but victories like the Voting Rights Act were just the beginning. Structural inequality, systemic oppression, and police brutality remained rampant, and the optimism of the previous decade was giving way to a harder-edged resistance. Black Power was rising, demanding self-determination and cultural pride, while the Vietnam War fueled an anti-imperialist critique that united activists across racial and class lines.
This was the context in which a young poet, Gil Scott-Heron, emerged with The Revolution Will Not Be Televised. Raised in Tennessee and New York City, Scott-Heron witnessed the fractures of the American dream firsthand. He channeled the energy of his time into sharp, incisive lyrics, combining the cadence of Black church sermons, the rhythm of jazz, and the urgency of protest.
Television had become the dominant medium of the era, but Scott-Heron saw it for what it was: a tool of distraction, designed to pacify and profit rather than inform. His work was a direct response to the commodification of Black pain and the whitewashing of struggle. While people marched in the streets, TV screens offered soap commercials and sitcoms, anesthetizing the masses instead of galvanizing them.
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised wasn’t just a song—it was a cultural lightning rod. First released as a spoken-word piece on his debut album Small Talk at 125th and Lenox, it resonated with a generation ready to shed illusions. By the time Scott-Heron re-recorded it with a full band in 1971, it had become a soundtrack for the grassroots movements of the era.
It was played at rallies, blared from boomboxes, and quoted in zines and speeches. Activists in the Black Panther Party and beyond adopted its ethos, understanding that their work was not for the cameras but for the people. While mainstream media often reduced the struggle to sanitized soundbites, Scott-Heron’s words reminded organizers that real change happens in the gritty, unglamorous work of community organizing—door-knocking, boycotts, mutual aid, and collective action.
The song’s influence rippled globally, too. Liberation movements in South Africa, Latin America, and the Caribbean found echoes of their own struggles in Scott-Heron’s declaration. Decades later, movements like Occupy Wall Street and Black Lives Matter would cite The Revolution Will Not Be Televised as an inspiration, a reminder to reject the spectacle and focus on the substance of resistance.
The Remix: The Revolution Will Not Be Streamed
As we enter 2025, the core truth of Scott-Heron's anthem resonates louder than ever, but the terrain has shifted. The screens aren’t just in our living rooms—they’re in our hands, pockets, and minds. Our lives are mediated through algorithms, our activism filtered through hashtags, and our outrage commodified for ad revenue.
So we ask: what does it mean to resist in the age of constant connectivity? How do we reject the commodification of care, the monetization of movements, and the temptation to turn every fight for justice into a reel-worthy performance?
Our remix, The Revolution Will Not Be Streamed, featuring community member Shruthi Venkatesh, is a call to reclaim the raw, unfiltered heart of revolution.
The Revolution Will Not Be Streamed.
It will not arrive between TikToks,
Or slide into your DMs with a viral link.
The revolution will not glow blue at midnight,
Pulling you further into doomscroll rabbit holes.
The revolution will not be stitched,
Duetted, or tagged #ForYou.
You won’t swipe up for exclusive content
Or catch the highlights on Reels.
The revolution isn’t bingeable,
And it won’t be postponed
Until you finish the new season of Euphoria.
The revolution will not come
With a trending dance challenge,
And it will not sell you skincare routines
That promise to detox your soul.
The revolution will not be sponsored
By Liquid Death, Glossier, or Nike.
It will not offer a “like, comment, and share” discount.
The revolution won’t go live,
Won’t feature crying influencers.
“Systemic oppression,” they scream
From their penthouses
With skyline views and branded water.
The revolution will be in your neighborhood,
On your streets,
In the whispered plans
And the quiet rage turned action.
It’ll be the student loan strike,
The mutual aid fund,
The community garden
Rooted where deserts once grew.
The revolution will be seen
In how we unplug to reconnect.
How we make meaning beyond
Click-throughs and sound bites.
How we demand more than the spectacle
And reclaim the power
To rewrite the script.
The revolution will not be streamed.
It will be live and raw,
Messy and unfiltered.
It will happen
While you’re looking up.
Welcome to the revolution. It’s happening now.