George Floyd
It's Thursday May 28th, 2020 1:58am; although I've been up since 8 am of Wednesday the 27th. I can't sleep, so many thoughts and emotions tethering at the same time.
A black man was killed by the misuse of force in Minneapolis; nothing new, except it was caught on video camera and bystanders were unsuccessfully calling the officer to release the knee against George Floyd's neck.
I had just seen a documentary on a man Luka Magnotta who killed cats and eventually went on to murder a human being.
This was no different. A white police officer with the power to choke out an unarmed black man who was not resisting arrest. Sickening, and yet this happens every day.
The officers involved have since been fired from their positions, but the community is calling for charges to be pressed against them.
On Wednesday I went to a Black Lives Matter protest in downtown LA. It began peacefully, listening to the rally members on the megaphone share their grievances against Jackie Lacey, the incumbent District Attorney. A mother, sharing about how her son of 14 had been shot and killed by the police department in LA and how she is still fighting for justice to be made for her dearly departed son. Raw anger as BLM activists shared with the crowd that we need to do more than just post on instagram and social media. The call to action, Join the fight, get involved in the weekly gatherings and presence at the local level.
It makes me wonder about what we can really do, and how much this will actually move the needle. Still, people are upset and need a space to gather and share grievances, real grievances that go unanswered for generations of black and brown Americans. White people showed up the protest, that was most encouraging. Signs reading: White people, do something!
I saw a handful of my youth group show up in support. We are all latinx, and I feel proud and worried for them at the same time. I want them to be safe, I know these protests can escalate quickly. The group finally begins its march through downtown LA, police officers and their squad cars serve to block off traffic and designate the flow of traffic for the protesting group to follow. We reach a fork in the road, right by the 101 freeway and Alameda st. in Downtown LA. I can't really see too much ahead of me, at this point I was probably somewhere in the middle of the group, not at the head and not furthest behind. The crowd has briefly stopped, but has now continued to move, I suddenly find myself engulfed by cars and crowds, we are now walking on the offramp amidst cars and passengers, some enraged, but many honking their horns in support.
My youth group young adults have gone ahead before me, as is typical of young people. They are directly where the action is going down. A young protester who sat upon a highway patrol car is propelled onto the ground as the vehicle aggressively charges away from the crowd. The young man on the ground, motionless, bleeding profusely from his head.
Vic calls me, "They just killed someone!" I rush over to see if things are ok. People are asking if I'm a doctor, I wish I were, but I run to see a young man surrounded by a crowd of onlooking protesters asking for medical support. I can tell the young man is breathing. He'll make it through, I tell my friends.
For a brief moment, I felt that the crowd was in for it. Surrounded by cop cars and stuck in the middle of the freeway. I looked around and saw plenty of white faces still with us, whew, sigh of relief. I told my friends we'd be ok, thanks to the güeros in the crowd. The crowd finally made the decision to exit the center stage and headed back toward the jail. We made a semicircle before the structure and shared parting calls to action. It has been a roller coaster of emotions...
A black man was killed by the misuse of force.