People with Cell Phones made this National News.
Controversial Police Shooting is what Wolf Blitzer on CNN is calling it. “New Developments: RAGE IN THE STREETS.”
Oscar Grant III. Anita Gay. Gary King Jr. These are the names that I know of, I know there are more. They must’ve not been in broad daylight when they were murdered, or gunned down on a main street during rush hour, or shot in the back on New Year’s on a BART platform with a train full of passengers whom had in their possesion camera phones.
I was at the protest at the Fruitvale BART station, where Oscar Grant III was killed by FORMER police officer, Johannes Mehserle (who apparently no longer has to give a statement since he resigned).
“Mehserle’s resignation takes away BART’s ability to leverage a statement out of him, since he can no longer be fired for remaining silent,” Orloff said. (Alameda County District Attorney Tom Orloff)
For what it’s worth, it was probably one of the most diverse protests I’ve ever been to. It’s always wild to see so many different kinds of people from hella different backgrounds who are affected and reeling from tragedies such as Oscar Grant’s murder. The media can’t just be like, “Blacks are outraged over this,” or use some language that isolates the grief and anger, everyone is hurt to some degree. Well, the media can, does, and will say whatever they damn well please, but at least we can take away from the pictures the range of the people gathered.
After listening to the devastatingly hopeful words spoken by demonstators, participating in one sustained ‘make as much noise as you can’ moment, reflecting in our collective and individual moment(s) of silence, taking in all of the visuals and people, and talking to plenty of loved ones at the protest I left feeling all the rage, calmness, confusion, love, pain, admiration, and fear that I came into the protest with. While we were driving back home my homie got a text from his sister saying that ‘we left just in time’ because people had started rioting.
For me, protests and riots are very complicated. I love and hate them. (My mama told me to never use the word ‘hate’ because it is a very strong word, thanks mama, but i feel very strongly about protests and riots so i chose to use the word this time).
I hate protests because like so many others i’m tired of going to protests where nothing but talk and yelling happens, and hella often it feels like the speakers are yelling angrily at me like it was me who did something wrong. Adrizzle of ILL-Literacy captured my thoughts and feelings about protests exactly when he wrote, “i stopped going to protests for the same reason i stopped going to church–the speakers always talk like they’re better than you, and i hate when people tell me to stand up when i’m already standing. but this was a good one.”
I hate protests because I’m tired of people with their communist manifestos and newspapers and all that shit, because that shit always feels hella idealistic and arrogant to me. I’m not saying don’t be idealistic, but damn, in some ways they feel like the religious right to me, always trying to beat you over the head with their ideas, when most of them just seem lost in the clouds, sorry i just have to write what i feel.
I hate protests because we all know that gathering is not enough. Gathering didn’t prevent our government from waging an ongoing War on Terror, gathering will not bring back Oscar Grant or anyone else lost to senseless acts of violence. But we already know that, and still we gather, which leads me into why i love protests.
I love protests because they remind me that i am not alone in my thoughts and emotions and understandings surrounding injustice. While we all grieve individually, we come together to let each other as well as the families of the victims know that they are not alone in their grief, fear, and confusion. We all cannot feel or understand the depths of the pain, but we can show that we care and do not want a family’s loss to go unseen, unacknowledged, and forgotten.
I hate riots because i hate that violence begets more violence, and loss begets even more loss, and the cycle remains continuous.
I hate riots because people who are not involved are forced to become involved because they now suffer and are victims from the chaos that is ‘the mob.’ People, businesses, cars, etc, of people who had nothing to do with the killing of Oscar Grant, were injured, destroyed, and defaced last night. Ingorance begets further ignorance, and dumb shit begets more dumb shit. Of course losing a loved one is worse than losing a business, but that is the lamest fuckin’ excuse as to why local businesses windows are being smashed and defaced, especially the businesses of other people of color (fuck McDonalds).
I hate riots because the holice get to squad up in their cowboy riot gear and cause even more havoc, when it’s their violent murderous actions that are the reason that people are rioting in the first place.
I hate riots because they usually wind up, in the everyday course of things, making shit worse on the day to day. Riots usually happen in neighborhoods and areas that are heavily populated with poor people of color. When shit gets fucked up it is almost always their shit that gets fucked up. Those already victimized by oppression simply become more burdened. Also, new laws get created to allow the police more freedoms to hurt and subject people.
I hate the word riot. Often the word riot is used in place of the word uprising, because riots are representative of uncontrolled chaos and are easily criminalized and racialized by government officials, the holice, and the media. The word uprising elludes that there has been a wrongdoing or injustice inflicted upon a person or people to which people are now justifiably reacting in response to.
I love riots, or rather, uprisings because they are a natural outlet of rage in opposition to authority inflicting injustice. If you are going to fuck up my people and my community i should have the right to fuck up your shit too. Which why it is almost theraputic to watch a police car be stomped on by some hyphy ass dudes, light things on fire, and watch unarmed people confront a line of police in full riot gear. It’s a false sense of power and control and it feeds into unhealthy thoughts of vengence, but it remains empowering nonetheless, even if it is somewhat ephemeral and short lived.
It’s not that i hate more than i love. It’s because of love that i can have the relationships that i have with people, and it’s why i can express myself in the ways that i do. All of the progressive social change that i have seen over the years have always occured do to the use of love as a guiding principle. If i think about my favorite people and favorite aritsts i can easily see how it is their own love of people and life that makes me admire and love them reciprocally. I simply hate because there is some reprehensible shit that i hella dont want to see in our collective and individual reactions to oppression and tragedy.
All in All, there is really no reason for me to believe that justice will be served in the killing of Oscar Grant. Can anyone tell me of a case in which an officer has been sentenced to time in prison over the killing of an innocent person? If so, please let me know, because there is no prior conviction that i can think of that would suggest to me that this will not play out like all the similar cases before this one. This is not nihilism, because I do have hope, and i do want this case to be different, but i also recognize that there are no past occurances that would give me reason to believe that somehow this time actually WILL be different. Even IF Obama is our new president.
As i was driving home last night at around 2 a.m. i took a left turn past a cop car and the thought rolled through my head that if he shot me right then and there it would most likely go unnoticed. it was the middle of the night and there was nobody around and i was scared at the thought, and then i was hella mad that this has to be something that scares me as im driving home to go to sleep. Not a camera phone in sight. Sweet dreams, huh.
Peace,
G-Mitch.
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