The people of St. Louis are trying to process another not-guilty
decision in another police shooting that left another young black man
named Anthony Lamar Smith dead. I thought I was ‘woke’. I thought I 'got' racism, as much as a white middle-aged woman could. And for this reason,
I took to the streets.
On the one hand, I saw amazing moments of solidarity, community and
grass roots work by blacks and whites and everyone in between. Keisha
Mabry wrote a piece entitled
25 Magical Moments From The Anthony Lamar Smith Protest.
Yes, yes, and double yes. I as a middle-aged white woman thought I was
seeing this. I am so glad that Keisha named it so well. We are so far
ahead of where we were in Ferguson just three years ago, though in
truth, we have many miles still to go.
In Ferguson, we heard, we saw, we experienced, we cried, we raged,
and we all went home, and many of us came together to try to do our
homework. I went to groups where we talked about white privilege and how
to address it in the white community. I learned about unpacking my own
racism and how to begin being a better ally to my brothers and sisters
of color. I wasn’t sure it was making a difference, but my brothers and
sisters of color assured me this would make a difference in their lives.
I come back to the streets in 2017 much more prepared. And I think
the black community was doing its homework as well. We come back to the
streets organized, determined, ready to do the work of justice with the
sometimes awkward, partially-woke white community. And the result is the
magic we are seeing on the streets.
The police did their homework as well, but the narrative they were
working from was how to quell a riot. Well, this is not a riot – this is
a peaceful assembly with a clear and persistent message. The people
show up: people of color, people of all colors and people of no
color. We peacefully assemble, we speak freely, we petition the
government to address our grievances, and it’s protected by the
constitution which forbids:
…abridging the freedom of speech, or of the
press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition
the Government for a redress of grievances.
We are doing something fundamental to the very existence of our
democracy. And the police show up in riot gear with tear gas, pepper
spray, zip-ties for mass arrests, and riot guns. So the crowd chats:
I don’t see no riot here.
Why are you in riot gear?
The crowds, a few hundred strong are peaceful, collaborative, disciplined and proud.
Tell me what democracy looks like.
This is what democracy looks like.
One of the actions was an interfaith prayer service. We prayed
together, and people even gave speeches to God. People spoke of their
faith, their hope, their courage. People spoke of justice and of Gods
creation of all peoples to be brother and sisters. People spoke of the
grace that disturbs systems of injustice and calls us back to a holy
indignation that recognizes and dismantles systems of oppression. Then
we marched; we prayed with our feet. And we chanted:
Tell me what theology looks like.
This is what theology looks like.
At one point when I was out on the street, the group was gathered and
chanting. Earlier in the day, the police had interrupted an otherwise
peaceful protest and started indiscriminately arresting people. So we
gathered outside the jail where they were being held. We marched around
the area a bit.
I wanted to move outside the group and onto a nearby sidewalk to join
a friend. In order to do so, I had to cross a police line that was
forming. The officer in semi-riot gear said I couldn’t cross. What??? I
told the officer I wanted to join my friend on the sidewalk. He said he
had orders not to let anyone out of the group. What??? I asked “Am I
being detained?” – knowing that he would have to articulate reasonable
cause to suspect me of something. He said he would have to ask his
sergeant. They ended up letting me go. But I’m a white middle-aged
woman, and the first cop could have been my grandson.
No one was arrested in the action – but only because the protesters
kept their cool, kept on message, kept strong and kept together, in the
face of aggression from law-enforcement. I repeatedly see the elegance
of their planning, organizing and actions. And by the grace of God, they
elude the threatening officers.
Walking away from these actions, I am every more ‘woke’ to the
brutality of racism. I can go to a protest or stay home. I can walk
across a police line on the grounds of my race. But my sisters and brothers of color can't leave their race at home and breath the freedom I live - even just for a day.
Now I must say, that some officers have been courteous, fair and
restrained in some tough situations. I thank them for that and I thank
them for the many ways they serve and protect the community. At the same
time, it is clear that the police have an element of brutality in their
midst. These departments have clearly trained to quell riots. But they
seem unable at times to distinguish between a riot and a peaceful
assembly protected by the constitution.
I heard an officer report on his radio that a dispersal order had
been given, when there was no dispersal order audible. I was close to
the officers and the crowd and heard no such order. However, shortly
thereafter, squads of riot police appeared on the scene. Why was that
report given, when it was clearly wrong? What is wrong with this system?
I hear the protesters’ chant, and I seem to see it validated:
The whole damn system is guilty as hell.
I see my brothers and sisters of color who have lived with this
system day in and day out, year in and year out, decade after decade.
I’m only beginning to see what they have lived with for a lifetime, and
too often for a lifetime cut short by violence. My heart is breaking.
I turn to the men and women in blue. In another day, in another
place, we walk the streets together, we do festivals together, we pray
together in the same churches. Can we talk? Can we talk about the
magical moments that are happening on the streets. Yes, sometimes the
police protect the crowds as we come together to link arms and build the
beloved community. Other times…. there is something powerfully and
painfully wrong. And I believe that we can come together. Violence isn’t
the answer.
–Sr. Amy