Hold a mirror up to racism
On Sunday, May 31, I felt a whirlwind of emotions as I protested the death of George Floyd. I had no idea the day of liberating protests would end with me running for my life.
On the sixth day of protests, there were two main protest spots: at the Minnesota Capitol in St. Paul and a march that started at the US Bank Stadium in Minneapolis.
I attended the protest in front of the Minnesota Capitol first. Before I could even see the thousands of protesters on the capitol’s lawn, I was confronted with the heavy militarization surrounding it. There seemed to be a mixture of National Guard officers with rifles and tanks and regular police officers positioned in a circle surrounding the area. They directed the flow of eager protesters and vigilantly watched as we entered. The most disturbing part of the National Guard’s presence is that they weren’t there to defend the protesters against the extremists that have been threatening violence, but to hurt the protesters if necessary. It’s ironic that the National Guard and the police officers were there in case they needed to use violence against protesters fighting police brutality.
Protesters march in the streets with signs in downtown Minneapolis.
The feeling of community was eye-opening at the first protest. Even though Black Hawk helicopters circled the sky and National Guard officers lined the Capitol holding rifles, I felt protected in that group of people.
I left that protest on a high. Feeling hopeful for the future and fueled to march, I headed to the US Bank Stadium. I had no idea that in just four hours, my life would be in danger.
As we marched in the streets of downtown Minneapolis, a chorale of voices chanted, “Say his name: George Floyd,” “Hands up: don’t shoot,” “Hey hey, ho ho, racist cops have got to go,” and “What do we want? Justice. When do we want it? Now.”
I read signs that said, “Being Black in America Shouldn’t Be a Death Sentence,” “Convict All 4,” “Defund the Police,” “No Bail,” “White Silence is Violence,” and more.
It was about George Floyd and so much more. It was about ending the system that allowed him and so many others to be murdered. It was about putting our foot down against racism in America. We were peaceful. Why weren’t you?
Protesters gather at the Minnesota State Capital, which saw heavy militarization on Sunday.
Around 6 p.m., the protesters headed onto the 35W highway. We filled both the southbound and northbound lanes. After being on the bridge for about 30 minutes and just minutes after a moment of silence for George Floyd, chaos erupted. I watched as a semitruck began to accelerate toward the crowd of protesters on the northbound side. I watched as people started to run for their lives. I heard their screams as they ran and found myself in a state of shock and disbelief.
There is no way a person could purposely drive into a crowd of peaceful protesters who were kneeling moments before. There is no way that level of hatred actually still exists. Tears fill my eyes as I think about the hatred I witnessed: A hatred strong enough to make a person try to kill innocent people fighting against injustice. I lost sleep thinking about that hatred. The hatred that was so close to me. The hatred I thought could end my life.
On top of dealing with the racist extremists who have no regard for human life, protesters are forced to deal with the wrath of the police. After protesters were forced to run from a semitruck, they were then confronted with police officers tear gassing and shooting rubber bullets at them. I reiterate: the protesters who remained peaceful for hours were shot at.
People love to claim that “not all cops” are bad, but they don’t condemn the institution’s actions: The actions that allow trained cops to work in a field while having racial bias. The actions that allow the over policing of black areas. The actions that allow officers to panic and kill black people. The actions that allow officers to kill without consequence.
Armed officers were present throughout Minneapolis as the National Guard was deployed on Sunday.
While social media has helped spread the word about injustice, it has also become a very toxic place during these protests. It’s very disheartening to go on social media and see performative allies acting like they care, or posting leisurely activities as if everything is fine. I’ve seen people post about TikTok dances with their friends and partying while staying completely silent about what’s happening in the world around them, as if George Floyd and other dead black people had that option. That’s what privilege and complacency look like. White people can ignore the protests in the world because police brutality doesn’t affect their daily lives. There aren’t differing opinions anymore, there is right and wrong. If you stand with police or remain silent, you’re wrong and complacent in the deaths of black people and the attacks on innocent protesters.
The whole world was watching in outrage when Colin Kaepernick kneeled during the national anthem, yet those same people turned a blind eye to George Floyd being suffocated as police knelt on his body. The same people saying that Derek Chauvin is the “alleged” murderer until his day in court fail to see that George Floyd was deemed guilty and given a death sentence just for being black. The same people who scream “All Lives Matter” don’t understand that in order for all lives to matter, black ones would have to matter too. If you turn a blind eye to these issues, you’re just as bad as the murderers, because your silence implies that you condone their actions.
Yesterday I was confronted with the feeling of betrayal. In school we were taught that racism was a thing of the past and that America is this great melting pot. As a middle schooler, learning that segregation ended four decades ago seemed to be a long time. Yet as a college student, looking at the grand scope of history, it wasn’t long ago at all. My grandmother grew up in it. People say that black people need to “get over it,” as if the oppression and racism that my elders endured is a thing of the past. As if we don’t see police officers in 2020 beating and killing black people like they did Rodney King in 1991. As if we don’t see police officers in 2020 attacking peaceful protesters with rubber bullets and tear gas like when they brutalized protesters on Bloody Sunday in 1965. How can you expect us to “get over it” when they haven’t, and when they are doing the same things to us that they did to our elders?
I will continue to grow up in a world where I am followed in stores, where my life means less, where I can become the next hashtag. All because they haven’t gotten over it. Because they are complacent. Because they still don’t believe that black lives matter.
If you see an issue with anything I just said, you are a part of the problem.
Amudalat Ajasa is a junior journalism major, currently serving as the president of Hofstra’s Black Student Union. She was born and raised in Minnesota and has participated in many of the recent protests. She can be found on Instagram at @amdilicious.
