Quotes About Injustice

In 2004, I was visiting my cousins in San Francisco and we were in a restaurant talking in Punjabi. We suddenly saw heads turn. And one of the Americans at the restaurant abused us and called my cousins, 'turban-headed Osamas.' That strengthened my resolve to make a film that highlights the issue.

The black community has always complained about abuse from cops. It's nothing new. But now, more people are seeing visual examples of what they've been complaining about. That's one thing that has changed over time.

I vividly remember segregation - separate schools, sitting in the balcony at the movie theater, being barred from the public swimming pool.

I've been really vocal about my disappointment about how the WNBA athletes get treated like second-class citizens in relations to the NBA when they're a subsidiary.

You don't realize it until you go out and take a look, but there are so many ways in which sexism is just allowed in our culture, not just in the entertainment industry. It's just allowed to be there, and that's not acceptable anymore. And I think it's really important to be very vocal.

The loudest voice in the room, sometimes, is the absent voice of the silenced.

We always talk about bullying, bullies; that is what social media is. It's just people we gave a voice to who didn't deserve to have a voice.

Those that have a voice have to speak for those of us who are silenced.

I know the injustice of outliving a child, the pain of a future stolen away, of mourning forever a voice you'll never hear.

But I must own that I also felt stirred by an unselfish desire to voice all the joys and sorrows, the hopes and ambitions, of the American Negro, in classic musical form.

Where does discipline end? Where does cruelty begin? Somewhere between these, thousands of children inhabit a voiceless hell.

Reading about people who were so truly voiceless and powerless - Liberian child soldiers, Sudanese refugees, and, especially, Kashmiri women whose husbands or sons were imprisoned by the army with no hope of release - made me think about how I would feel if someone took my brothers from me.

In reality, victims of human trafficking are often left voiceless and completely unseen by society.

If it was all about me, I'd do a whole lot of pop records, make a whole lot of money, just rake in the dough. But it's never been all about me. It's all about being a voice for the voiceless. People who can't speak for themselves, who don't have a mic, don't have a say.

The court today, just as in 1776, is deaf to the voices of the people and their repeated entreaties: they have become arrogant, contemptuous, highhanded, and literal despots.

Throughout history, women have often been treated as second-class citizens and their voices silenced.

The concentration of wealth in the hands of the few threatens the ability of ordinary people to raise their voices and have a say over how our societies are run.

I have always felt my role was to do anything I could to enable the powerless to speak. I want America to hear these voices because they are beautiful voices.

Everyone loses when voices get stifled.

Big money and corporate interest drown out a lot of voices.

Death Row is a bridge out of that ghetto world, giving voices to those people society thinks shouldn't be heard.

I believe that Trayvon Martin's life might well have been spared if many of us who care about racial justice had raised our voices much, much sooner and much, much more loudly about the routine stereotyping and profiling of young black men and boys.

Our long history of exploiting women's bodies and suppressing their voices had a direct impact on my case and other women's lives.

I know how difficult it is to be not just a woman, but a black woman, and I know how much we get attacked and our voices aren't heard. I experience it every single day.