If You Don’t Understand Why I Participated in the Black Lives Matter Protests

Yesterday on May 31, 2020 I joined hundreds of others in protesting the long history of racial injustice and police brutality that has led to the murder of an alarmingly disproportionate number of black men, women, and trans persons in the United States. Waco itself has a hostile and violently racist past rifled with lynching’s including the killing, hanging, burning, and dismembering of Jesse Washington on the Waco Courthouse front lawn. Regardless of Facebook posts from a Waco local named Jan, “Attention Waco! Do not go into Waco this afternoon and especially at night. Protestors and rioters are meeting at this moment to riot, burn and who knows what else. Info coming from Sherriff’s dept. Pass the word, especially all businesses. They may stay downtown or not, may be citywide.” She couldn’t be more wrong. 

At 2 pm I arrived at the Waco Suspension Bridge to hear chants of “No Justice, No Peace”, “Black Lives Matter”, “Say His Name, George Floyd”, “I Can’t Breathe”, and so many others along with countless posters. I placed myself in the middle of the action on higher ground to get the best view of the crowd and speakers, with my bright orange poster; written on one side “All Lives Will Not Matter Until BLACK LIVES MATTER” and the other “I am here because I am PISSED.” And I am. I am angry, but like everyone else there today, and around the country, people are motivated by that rage, that heartbreak, that fear to go out and protest. For over two hours we heard the stories of black men who have personally been profiled and beaten by the police, black women who are scared for the lives of their sons and husbands, white and non-black people of color speaking in support, specifically on the topic of white privilege. 

White privilege should not be a difficult topic to talk about, at least I say that now, but I look back to my education and my own personal motivation, as my parents say, to “have a cause.” I have been learning and inserting myself into “uncomfortable” positions all my life, learning the life stories of people vastly different from me. I am comfortable speaking about my privilege and use it to help others when I can. I put myself in front of the two black women I met yesterday and spent time with after the protests because they each had young children and Wanda was screaming from her chest as her voice broke “when will it be my son?” People are fearful of police violence and abuse of power when they are labeled to “protect and serve.” But as one poster wrote “Who will protect the public when the police violate the law?” (Shout out to Leah) When we protest on police violence it does not exclude the experiences of other people who have been assaulted by a man or woman in blue; we want you to fight with us. To fight for restorative justice and change, to work to build a system that works to protect everyone and does not expect black citizens to simply “remain calm” with a gun in their face while the “trained professional” is allowed to panic.

In 2014 in the wake of Ferguson and Michael Brown, as a freshman in high school I was becoming fully aware of the police violence against unarmed black civilians and the complicated and long history of racism. I did not know how to correctly vocalize my rage and support for Black Lives Matter and learned from my mistakes along the way. I am still learning as a white person how to correctly even as I’m reading this. Because I am not the focus, but I know the experiences I have seen and heard can be stories to show people who do not understand this movement why we are here.

To address the first response I see, “But ALL lives matter.” How I explain it is like this. We spend the entire month of October in pink with ribbons and “I ❤ Boobies” wrist bands and shirts to raise money, awareness, and support for the women and other patients who fight, survive, and sadly die from Breast Cancer. No one says “what about Prostate Cancer? What about lung cancer? All cancer patients matter.” No one is saying that. At all. No one is saying White, Asian, Latinx, or other demographics’ lives do not matter. We are focusing on black lives right now because those are the lives that are dying and need our attention. Black Lives Matter is based on the PRINCIPLE that everyone’s life does matter, and because of police violence and racially-motivated murder and profiling, Black people feel and are shown every day that their lives do not matter to the system meant to serve them.

I have yet to speak to a black person that has not had a negative and usually aggressive interaction with a police officer. I have yet to meet a black person who has not had an uncomfortable experience on this campus. I have yet to meet a black man who didn’t receive a startling lecture from his parents about how to act around cops, so they don’t get murdered. I have yet to meet a black woman who has not struggled to succeed at the intersections of racism and sexism. I have yet to meet a black trans person who has not feared for their life every day.

At the Waco Protests for Black Lives Matter I felt my heart pounding in my chest as I screamed chants when they died down or my section of the line was quiet and couldn’t hear what chant we were on. We passed cars and people on bikes honking at us and throwing fists in the air, holding up posters themselves. A black mother with her three children was leading the chant “Black Lives Matter, My Life Matters, Your Life Matters” and repeat. When it got quiet, a girl no older than 5 years old holding hands with her dad piped up and yelled “No Justice” and got a loud response of “No Peace” for a few rounds too. We marched around downtown and made our way back to the Suspension Bridge before more protests continued at the Courthouse. 

There, while we walked to meet them, was a young black couple and their three young daughters, 5, 2, and 1, sitting on top of a car with a bullhorn, all wearing shirts: I pray, I talk, I see a therapist. The couple was Gary Wardlaw Jr. and his wife Britney, the founders of TRC, The Relationship Clinic of Waco, specifically because through God he wanted to be a counselor, and with His guidance, became the first black male therapist here in Waco. (More information https://www.trcwaco.com).  They spoke to a crowd of so many different races and ethnicities of people, some with children of all ages, and preached love and the word of God. They asked that we march with them up Washington Ave as we reflect and pray; we remembered Jesse Washington who was taken to the courthouse and the jury took four minutes to decide his guilt, then he was dragged outside and lynched. 

In my livestreams of the protests I got a lot of footage of the Wardlaw family and the pastors who spoke and preached to the crowd. There was no one antagonizing police, or vandalizing, or looting. We got out of the street once the trucks and junky sports cars stopped wasting their gas and revving engines in front of us and leaving fumes in their wake. Everyone I talked to is just tired, and mad, and frustrated that there hasn’t been change or reform. I’ll say this now: the people walking in the streets pleading to be heard are NOT the same people looting at night. I have seen video after video of police unnecessarily instigating violence and aggression, tearing off people’s protective masks (from COVID) to spray them directly in the face, and men who happen to be white being the first to throw a Molotov cocktail or a brick at a business. These are not the protesters screaming for George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and too many other beautiful black men and women. SAY HIS NAME. SAY HER NAME. SAY THEIR NAME.

I do not know what it is like being a black person in America, and I will never. But my ability to empathize with the stories I read and hear has kept me on the side of Black Lives Matter, made me realize I have to do something. I’ve donated and signed petitions and continue to do that because I have the means to and there is no reason I shouldn’t. I will not sit here and cultivate a future of love and prosperity with a BLACK MAN without first vocalizing my unwavering support of this movement. I’m not going to sit here and love rap music, acrylic nails¹, drag and LGBT+ culture, without honoring the BLACK HISTORY behind it. I will continue posting on social media my support for Black Lives Matter and the movements that are inspired by it. I will continue using my words, my privilege, my education, to speak to anyone and anybody about this movement, whether you support it or not. 

_{^{1. The history of black women wearing long acrylic nails and being classified as “ghetto” has now been erased as white woman started getting nail extensions and now it is deemed “bougie” or “chic.” In 1988, Florence Griffith-Joyner (Flo Jo) was breaking U.S. Olympic track and field world records, but her nails were the focus of a lot of articles. In an article “Griffith-Joyner Nails 100-Meter Dash Final” the Chicago Tribune pointed out how the runner wore “4-inch, curved, tiger-striped fingernails” and a solid fuchsia manicure. On black women, acrylics are still often labelled as tacky or unprofessional, yet these negative labels rarely are attributed to white women who wear similar styles.}}

“Put on the armor of God so that you may be able to stand firm against the tactics of the devil. For our struggle is not with flesh and blood but with the principalities, with the powers, with the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the heavens.”

Ephesians 6:11-12

Thank you for reading my perspective.          

            BLM.

Photos provided by @lexwiththepixs and @JessikaHarkay on Twitter