12/5/14: My longest post ever. I want to share my experience as a parent of a 9-year-old explaining Black Lives Matter and why the need to say it.
How do you explain to a 9-year-old what’s happened:
to Mike Brown?
to Eric Garner?
to Tamir Rice?
to too many others?
You just do. You have to. Here's what I said ...
It’s about dark skin not as privileged as white. It’s about assumptions that black skin is guilty, dangerous. It’s a violence first mentality. The “shoot first, ask questions later” attitude. I explained what happened to Eric Garner, the whole story in simple terms. His reaction was ‘That is so wrong! He was arrested for that? Why was he choked for that?” I explained that what happened to Eric Garner would likely never happen to him because he’s a white male. And it would certainly never happen to me because I am a white female and small to boot. That’s our privilege, our white skin. His reaction -- “That is so wrong, white lives aren’t more important!” Exactly.
He and I live close to Foley Square in Manhattan. I asked him if he wanted to go to see the demonstration. I told him that I believe this is a historic moment. That while change has been happening all along since the start of the Civil Rights Movement and even before, I am hopeful that this is the beginning of a wave that will turn the tide. It may take many years (and probably will) but I am hopeful. He said yes. So we rode the bike to look, to see, to bear witness. I told him to take a picture in his mind so he will remember it. So he will remember the thousands of people we saw. And when change comes he will remember that we were there, that he is part of it.
We decided we would go around the perimeter of the protest and read the signs. I told him the most prevalent would be ‘Black Lives Matter’ since that is the theme of the demonstration. It was easy to circle the demo on the east side because they had barricades up on Foley Square facing Centre St. We were outside the barricades and went around reading and talking about many signs.
The most prevalent "Black Lives Matter" was everywhere, held by every type of person, in so many homemade designs. My personal favorite, “Revolution is not a one-time event – Audre Lorde,” provided a perfect teaching moment. That’s the one I want him to hang on to. I explained that while I am hopeful that this is the beginning of a change, it will take time. We will have to do this again and again, in different forms. I told him I see it like the AIDS movement, and the gay rights movement. Not that they are done, but they are better. This must get better. I am hopeful this is the beginning. White privilege has got to go. This has to be a historic moment.
As we moved along the perimeter suddenly there was no perimeter. We were in it. And the crowd turned and started walking towards us onto Duane Street. We were in the front of a march! We stopped the bike at the barricade on Duane Street and directed people to the sidewalk so they would not all have to climb over the four-foot barricade. People were so warm, friendly, and varied. My son got smiles and high fives. With a soft voice he chimed in with a few chants.
Even in the thousands of people, we saw folks we knew. Uncle Steve walked right past us and stopped to hug and snap a pic. Alexis called out from the crowd. We knew others who were there but couldn’t find them.
At almost 2am I can still hear the helicopters and the sirens. They fade and then return. I hope I keep hearing them because to me they indicate movement, a movement. It’s time for change – it’s that simple, Black Lives Matter. My way is to work to make change first, then feel the feelings later. Now I am crying, finally feeling it instead of intellectualizing, activating, or organizing.
There are voices outside at half past midnight - they are singing. Outside the back of Police Plaza, right outside our front door, 20 flights down. About 30 people, singing to the police at midnight on a protest night. It’s beautiful. Change is beautiful. It’s got to come … now please.
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