George Floyd Protest March in Sunnyvale (part 1)
Earlier this week we learned about a George Floyd rally and protest march in our city and made plans to participate. I took a half day off from work. The rally was scheduled to start at 5pm- late enough that I could have worked a full day, but I wanted time for a few preparations as well as to do some unrelated chores. I'm glad it wasn't earlier in the afternoon, like rallies in some other cities in the area have been. Weekday 1pm start times make it hard for those of us with jobs to participate.
Being the Best Meat Shield I Can Be
In the days prior to my city's protest I watched the news of protests in other cities. It was grim, with lots of cases of police using increasing levels of violence against peaceful protestors. I also read an article with suggestions from several activists on how not-black-or-brown people (such as myself) can best support the cause.
"Definitely come out and support it, but don't make it about you," was the gist of everyone quoted. I'll come back to that in a moment. But another suggestion, about what to do- rather than what not to do- really struck me. "As a White person you can help by putting your body between the Black people and the police, because the police all too often don't believe #BlackLivesMatter."
Wow. I'm a meat shield!
Well, if my job is to be a human shield, I wanted to be the best. So I decided to dress in a jacket and tie. A black jacket and dark shirt and tie, of course; because they told us to dress in black. I went the whole 9 yards: tie pin, lapel pin (an American flag, no less!), and a pocket square arranged in stylish a triple crest.
It's Not About Me. Except It Also Is.
Throughout the week I've remembered that admonishment mentioned above: it's not about me.
Fair enough, I figure. It's not about me. As a white male I have the privilege of playing the game of life on a relatively low difficulty setting. Authorities don't perceive me as dangerous, and the color of my skin doesn't make me a target of their hate, so my encounters with them are neither frequent nor high risk. I'm protesting an injustice that happens to someone else. It's unlikely to happen to me, or anybody who looks like me.
Except it is also about me. And that's why I made and carried the protest sign shown above, with a quote by Bishop Desmond Tutu.
"If you remain neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor."
It's about me because it's important I stand up. What's going on is morally wrong. It's bad enough that remaining neutral- saying it's not about me so I don't need to care- is also morally wrong. In the face of such oppression, to remain silent is to be complicit.
Watching Fellow Protestors Arrive
Hawk and I had plans to meet several local friends at the rally. They were walking in from a different direction than we had walked; we'd agreed in advance to meet at a particular location. We arrived 15-20 minutes early so we waited on the sidewalk. I staked out a position atop a few steps near a department store, facing out toward the intersection where my sign could be seen better.
Lots of people filed past us, headed toward the staging area for the march. It was unclear what the size of the crowd would be; from the foot traffic on this street it looked like it could be hundreds total. (Foreshadowing: it turned out to be well over 1,000 and maybe upwards of 3,000!)
Most of the people passing us, whether on foot or in cars, seemed to be aligned with the message of the protest. Drivers slowed and turned their heads to read my sign as they passed. Many gave thumbs up.
I enjoyed reading signs, too. Not everyone had a sign. Hawk didn't, for example. No time to make one. Most of the signs were hand-written. Some were as simple as "BLM" (#BlackLivesMatter, not the federal Bureau of Land Management) while others had individual slogs. One of my favorites was "Racism Is Small dick Energy" (pictured).
Rollerskating Monkey
It wasn't clear if everyone was on our side, though. One curious character who passed by was a man on rollerblades. He was wearing a monkey mask that completely covered his face. It was a scary monkey, like a zombie monkey: the kind of mask design to intimidate.
I saw him make eye contact with us as he passed. He turned around in the middle of the street, skated back to the other side of us, and up onto the sidewalk. "Incoming, 10 o'clock," I warned Hawk. If this person was going to try physically intimidating us, she needed to be ready as even him lightly brushing against her could send her falling over her cane.
Mr. Zombie Monkey On Rollerskates turned out to be a friendly, though. He slowed down as he wheel up in front of us and held his smartphone up. We found ourselves facetiming with a woman who cheered us on and said she liked out sign. Then Mr. Rollerskating Monkey nodded at us and zoomed off.
Update: Continued in Part 2!
Being the Best Meat Shield I Can Be
In the days prior to my city's protest I watched the news of protests in other cities. It was grim, with lots of cases of police using increasing levels of violence against peaceful protestors. I also read an article with suggestions from several activists on how not-black-or-brown people (such as myself) can best support the cause.
"Definitely come out and support it, but don't make it about you," was the gist of everyone quoted. I'll come back to that in a moment. But another suggestion, about what to do- rather than what not to do- really struck me. "As a White person you can help by putting your body between the Black people and the police, because the police all too often don't believe #BlackLivesMatter."
Wow. I'm a meat shield!
Well, if my job is to be a human shield, I wanted to be the best. So I decided to dress in a jacket and tie. A black jacket and dark shirt and tie, of course; because they told us to dress in black. I went the whole 9 yards: tie pin, lapel pin (an American flag, no less!), and a pocket square arranged in stylish a triple crest.
It's Not About Me. Except It Also Is.
Throughout the week I've remembered that admonishment mentioned above: it's not about me.
Fair enough, I figure. It's not about me. As a white male I have the privilege of playing the game of life on a relatively low difficulty setting. Authorities don't perceive me as dangerous, and the color of my skin doesn't make me a target of their hate, so my encounters with them are neither frequent nor high risk. I'm protesting an injustice that happens to someone else. It's unlikely to happen to me, or anybody who looks like me.
Except it is also about me. And that's why I made and carried the protest sign shown above, with a quote by Bishop Desmond Tutu.
"If you remain neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor."
It's about me because it's important I stand up. What's going on is morally wrong. It's bad enough that remaining neutral- saying it's not about me so I don't need to care- is also morally wrong. In the face of such oppression, to remain silent is to be complicit.
Watching Fellow Protestors Arrive
Hawk and I had plans to meet several local friends at the rally. They were walking in from a different direction than we had walked; we'd agreed in advance to meet at a particular location. We arrived 15-20 minutes early so we waited on the sidewalk. I staked out a position atop a few steps near a department store, facing out toward the intersection where my sign could be seen better.
Lots of people filed past us, headed toward the staging area for the march. It was unclear what the size of the crowd would be; from the foot traffic on this street it looked like it could be hundreds total. (Foreshadowing: it turned out to be well over 1,000 and maybe upwards of 3,000!)
Most of the people passing us, whether on foot or in cars, seemed to be aligned with the message of the protest. Drivers slowed and turned their heads to read my sign as they passed. Many gave thumbs up.
I enjoyed reading signs, too. Not everyone had a sign. Hawk didn't, for example. No time to make one. Most of the signs were hand-written. Some were as simple as "BLM" (#BlackLivesMatter, not the federal Bureau of Land Management) while others had individual slogs. One of my favorites was "Racism Is Small dick Energy" (pictured).
Rollerskating Monkey
It wasn't clear if everyone was on our side, though. One curious character who passed by was a man on rollerblades. He was wearing a monkey mask that completely covered his face. It was a scary monkey, like a zombie monkey: the kind of mask design to intimidate.
I saw him make eye contact with us as he passed. He turned around in the middle of the street, skated back to the other side of us, and up onto the sidewalk. "Incoming, 10 o'clock," I warned Hawk. If this person was going to try physically intimidating us, she needed to be ready as even him lightly brushing against her could send her falling over her cane.
Mr. Zombie Monkey On Rollerskates turned out to be a friendly, though. He slowed down as he wheel up in front of us and held his smartphone up. We found ourselves facetiming with a woman who cheered us on and said she liked out sign. Then Mr. Rollerskating Monkey nodded at us and zoomed off.
Update: Continued in Part 2!