Sunday, June 7, 2020

Black Lives Matter

Dear UD,

On May 25, George Floyd, a black man, was killed on the streets of Minneapolis by a white police officer who was kneeling on his neck during an arrest. In under nine minutes, Floyd died. During those nine horrific moments, captured on video, Floyd cried out for mercy, for justice, for his mama. “I can’t breathe.” I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. He said this over and over again until all his breath was gone from this world. Gone forever.

Once the video was released and the nation and world witnessed this appalling and atrocious event, it responded with horror and action. Protests, riots, social media posts, news articles, the whole world is watching, but more importantly, the whole world is taking action.

It’s so unbelievable, Uncle David, that America needs civil rights action in 2020, but here we are. It has all gone on too long. There’s no justification for what happened. It doesn’t matter what he did, where he’s from, what he was doing, what race he is. NONE of that matters. George Floyd was a man, a human being who deserved the same treatment as ANY other human being. I’m not talking about some liberal agenda, political agenda, or negative stance against police officers. The police have a challenging job, one that I could never do. There are so many courageous, considerate, strong officers out there, and I have nothing but respect and admiration for them and how they serve their communities. However, there is no room for prejudice and racism in a vocation such as police work or education.

Police brutality, racial profiling, black men in prison, unjust treatment because of skin color…all of it has gone on for too long. White privilege has gone on too long. Systematic racism has gone on for too long in America. It is time for a better country, a better world.

UD, I thank God that I was raised to be accepting of other cultures and races, to embrace diversity, to stand up for what I believe in. Because that’s where it starts. It all begins with how we view the world and how we teach our children to view the world.  In my narrative titled, “Beauty in the Spice of Life: An International Playgroup,” first published in Good Works Review 2018, I wrote:

How do we teach our children diversity and acceptance? How can we help them see beyond color and language to people and their hearts? As recent headlines show, these are still important questions in the twenty-first century.

It all starts with what we pass down through the generations; I am grateful that I learned these vital qualities from my parents through conversations, books, movies, music and then passed them down to my own children, using love, exposure, and conversation.

[snip]

In this group, we were learning to pass it along, generation upon generation, through love, exposure, and conversation. Children have an innocence that automatically welcomes and that can be nurtured. When my children were toddlers, I started an international playgroup and exposed them to food and kids and clothes from around the world. I read books to them about other cultures, and we talked about the differences and similarities. Even when they were babies, I bought a board book that is simply the song, “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world,” and is illustrated with children from various cultures. I bought my daughters white American Girl dolls that looked just like them, but I also bought them Native American, African American, etc. dolls as well. I took them to local International Festivals every year and took photos for their albums. We watched movies about Dr. King, Rosa Parks, the Civil Rights Movement, women’s rights, Gandhi and so on. When my children became teenagers, we hosted foreign exchange students every summer, and my daughters now have French and Spanish sisters.

UD, I ended that essay with this, “…the importance of unity, difference, community, and the innocence and acceptance of children. Our lives are enriched when we reach beyond the common white bread of our culture into the difference, diversity, yet oneness of others.”

My whole life I have lived this way, taught my own children these values, and passed along these values to my students in the classroom. I teach that silence can be a form of violence and the importance of living our beliefs. I post articles and memes on social media designed to inspire and encourage acceptance and justice and critical thinking. But this week, all of that doesn’t feel like enough. I feel so enraged and powerless, impuissant, that things like George Floyd’s death are still happening in our country.

I am distressed and horrified. So much so that I have felt compelled to action. Called to take action that publicly and visibly shows my beliefs and that stands on the side of justice and mercy and truth and compassion and acceptance.

So last night I attended a Peaceful Protest at Canova Beach Park with a friend of mine. In some ways, it was nerve-racking while in other ways it felt right and emotional and effective. Laina helped me make a sign which read “Equal justice for all. #icantbreath #blacklivesmatter.” I picked up Rebekah and drove to the protest. Before stopping, we drove by, honking our support to those already gathered together, to scope out the situation since we’d heard rumors of plans to attack or mace the peaceful protesters. There were police cars nearby for protection, but everything looked okay. After doing a u-turn, we drove back to the area, and we were appalled to see a counter-protest across A1A near Keywest Bar. While there weren’t a lot of people gathered on that side, it was jarring and simply terrible to see the Confederate flag flying next to the American flag flying next to Trump 2020 Keep America Great flag right here in Brevard County.

We found a parking spot at Canova Beach, donned our masks, and walked over to stand proudly with the 300 Black Lives Matter protesters. For thirty minutes or more, we stood on the side of the road, holding our sign, waving at friendly people who drove by and honked their support, joining chants like “I can’t breathe” or “Black lives matter” or “No justice, no peace” or “Say his name. George Floyd,” and being part of something important and necessary.

At the same time, across the road, the counter-protesters continued waving their flags. I don’t understand how you can protest justice and equality?! I found it ironic that they held the American flag “‘Cause the flag still stands for freedom,” and okay, the freedom/right to protest is covered under that; however, what about the freedom/right to equality and justice and purity and valor that our flag stands for?! One lady was so drunk that she kept yelling obscenities and demanding that we “go home.” Then, one man arrived across the street with a full-sized portrait (as in the picture was taller than him) of white Jesus, and he started walking up and down the road, waving white Jesus around. UD, you know that it angers me when people use God to justify evil, but to show up at a peaceful Black Lives Matter protest with a misrepresentation of Jesus?! I have no words.


Thankfully, everyone in our group remained peaceful yet purposeful. At one point, we all “took a knee” for the eight minutes and 46 seconds that the police office knelt on George Floyd’s neck and in honor and respect and silence for those who have lost their lives because of racism and police brutality.

Ultimately, I felt empowered to participate in civil action, to join thousands around the nation and world in demanding justice, equality, and accountability. It cannot stop here. It cannot stop now. It started with George Floyd’s last breath and will not stop until we can all breathe as free and as just as one another.


George Floyd leaves behind family, loved ones, children. Although his death is a horrific tragedy, he leaves behind a legacy of change as the world has joined together to stand for justice. Together, we stand. Together, we protest. Together, we say ENOUGH.     

UD, I know that you and Mom and Dad would all stand with me. Missing you all.

Love, Rach

PS: Photography by Rebekah Raddon