The Fear To Protest

Putting my feelings to words lately has been the most the daunting task these past three weeks. Finding the words to express apathy, numbness, anger, and sadness over the murders of Amaud Arbery who was hunted down shot and killed while doing something most of us do everyday, jogging. Breanna Taylor who was shot eight times in her own home by police who didn’t even have the correct address and the straw that broke the camel’s back the cold blooded murder of George Floyd.

By now I’m sure everyone has at least the snippet of the video where for over eight minutes a n Officer’s knee was on his neck as he proclaimed over and over that he couldn’t breathe. I watched the life leave his his eyes and his body go limp as witnesses yell to the officer to move that he was killing this man while knowingly being recorded. I watched a man yell in front for his mother and die in front of my eyes. How can I put into words the feeling I had in that moment? The helplessness in the inside that I all could do is yell curse words at my television. I couldn’t help him, no one is the crowd could help him without accepting that the fact the probability of them seeing their loved ones again, a sacrifice that no person should have to make.

Sitting at home as working we are not permitted to COVID-19 one of my good friends Ashlee mentioned a protest happening in downtown Cincinnati that was planned a few days ago happening that afternoon. I have seen constant footage of Saint Paul and Minneapolis burning, the destruction of Atlanta Georgia , countless of people beaten and hit in the places with rubber bullets with wounds so brutal you you would have thought they were shot with real bullets. After watching the news channels, constant Facebook and Instagram Lives where peaceful portent quickly escalated into violence and destruction. Caused by whom? Some witnesses said outside agitators, others said their local police. I believe it was both. My friend Danielle called that morning as well to say that they were lured to a certain part of downtown to be tear gassed and shot at with rubber bullets when all they were doing protesting peacefully the night before.

The question that plagued me was I willing to risk my safety to support and protest? My mind and spirit uneasy attempting to do the tasks of my job, my hands unable to type the correct words on the keyboard of my work computer but instead they pick up the phone watching Facebook updates of the times and dates of the protests, more footage of brutality, more fires, now they’re breaking into the Whitehouse?

More feelings of unrest. I have to do something. I have to show support in someway it has never been my nature to sit idle while the world is going up in flames around me. I got a text from Ashlee asking if I still wanted to go. I texted yes without thinking my stomach in knots. I was going and not only that I was taking my thirteen year old daughter with me. I charged the extra batteries for my camera and while sending a vague email to by Boss about a family emergency and that I have to leave early and I will make up the time throughout the rest of the week. This was happening and while giving my daughter explicit instructions to stay close to myself or Ashlee at all times either link up at arms or grab one of our bags and not to worry that if anything looks as if it is going to escalate we would leave immediately.

Once we arrived I fully expected to see The National Guard and Cincinnati Police in full riot gear that did come later however at that moment we were together in with the common goal of protesting the injustice of the fallen and police brutality in our city and across the country. The overwhelming feeling of love and support brought me to tear this was nothing like what I was seeing on news stations. As we walked down Vine St. the love that reverberated from the onlookers in their cars, on their porches out of walks of life coming together for justice for Black People. I remember years ago when we protested for injustice though we weren’t met with rubber bullets and tear gas but we were met with colds stares of mild inconvenience . To add insult to injury after a Black Man or Black Woman was killed by the hands of an officer or a racist going out into the world overhearing the most insensitive statements such as… “They should have complied.”

“What were they doing in that neighborhood?”

Loud enough for me to hear of course so I can attempt to explain why this was murder only to be met to dismissed as emotional. So what was the point? At this moment without having to explain anything with was an unspoken voice that echoed “I understand.”

Yes, tension across our country is high right now and I can’t help but to think once news coverage dies down and the buildings are fixed what will happen. Will the outrage die down with this? Some say voting is the answer but is that really going to help solve the issues? Or maybe the real question should be… How do we stay consistent?