George Floyd, an eight-minute and forty-six second video that was the ending of a black man’s life at the hands of police. There was absolutely no time to process the death of Ahmaud Arbery. This felt like another attack on Black America. Floyd was detained in Minneapolis by police, and when he was forced to the ground with the officer’s knee on his throat, as if George was anything but a human being, a living breathing person…it was the perfect portrayal of all the unlawful power that the law was given over us as African Americans.
The first thing I thought was “there’s no way I would ever see a white man in this position, never, not like this, not this way.” Shades of Eric Garner of 2014 flashed back, when Floyd begged for air and the ability to just breathe. He wasn’t given it, and that was the end of his life, displayed on video for the whole world to see. Once the video was over, I just cried. I had never been so angry before, wanting to reach through the phone and do god knows what to the officer myself.
So much went through my mind as the next day and beyond, protests that shed light on the horrible police brutality and racism that ravaged America rang throughout the states. The Black Lives Matter movement (which truly never ended), was now back, and at the forefront for everyone to see. It wasn’t just in Minneapolis, but across every state, and even across the world. I had enough of seeing this brutality, and so did many others worldwide. This video woke a lot of people up who wanted to brush away the notion that black people were in more danger regarding police than white people.
This was a video that was as clear as day for everyone to see. The following days, I would see across all social media platforms, a black screen. The movement to bring awareness to Black Lives Matter took hold of everything. I wondered just how strong this was now, and just how many faces were now seeing how important this was.
After I contributed and posted my own black screen on what was called Black Tuesday, the movement only grew. So many angry stories, so many passionate speeches and peaceful protests around the world sparked and escalated.
I still sat in my room though, just broken from the video itself, broken from seeing just how ugly the country had become. I thought deeper about it, and wanted to believe that change would truly come, or, was it just another case where people would try and justify what happened. This wasn’t the case, my anger was seen in so many others, but others who looked just like me. I needed my own internal help with a lot of mental strains on my brain. Was this only temporary? Would people keep this movement strong? As I watched some of my closest friends march in Oklahoma City, it inspired me inside. The movement felt so alive, like a heartbeat that was constant. Instead of just COVID being the discussion across all platforms and channels, now it was also Black Lives Matter.
During this time, I was also focused on my math course at my community college, which would challenge my brain almost everyday too. I had to try and feel like a student again, while at the same time knowing that an entire social justice movement was right outside of my door every day. It felt like time wasn’t moving again, just like months ago.
I tried to shut my mind away from it all to focus on my work this time. Everyday, I would see more and more developments regarding social justice. I saw more celebrities and prominent figures leading and participating in protests. That didn’t seem like enough though. I would see every news story detailing more of George Floyds death, recount Ahmaud, and giving more insight on Breonna Taylor (who was killed in March), every story revolved around race now.
So much of a spotlight was focused on the very same thing that much of February was enthralled in at school, race. I was still in disbelief, and still hadn’t been to a BLM protest myself. When my school had a virtual conversation with higher up officials, including the President and the chief of police speaking on race for the students to watch, something about it spoke to me. Watching the Chief of police in Norman speak on how every officer wasn’t the same as the one who killed Floyd reminded me that the world wasn’t as black and white as it seemed all the time. I saw so many people just angry at all law enforcement, rightfully so. Seeing the president of the university and leaders in our diversity and inclusion team speaking about the importance of the uncomfortable conversations we’ve got to have now, and the changes that needed to be made now more than ever, felt like change was beginning to happen.
In addition to this, seeing professional sports teams like the Washington Redskins and Cleveland Indians, deciding to redact their names because of the offense it brought to the native community really made it seem like things were different than before. Large groups of protesters advocating for the removal of confederate statues and slave owners followed too. It brought me hope inside watching it all. I still didn’t have the strength to get up and go to a protest myself, for safety reasons too. Who would I go with? I asked my closest friend who was my historian of NABJ. At this point now, him and I were much closer friends, who I trusted more than anyone else. I saw that our black student association was going to hold a protest in Norman. When I asked him if he was going, he said yes, and I joined him.
I had never been to one. I just watched them all over the globe on television and social media. To watch a movement is one thing, to be a part of it is another. As we pulled up to the beginning of the protest and stood In silence for the same amount of time as the office had his knee on Floyd's neck, I closed my eyes and pictured every image in my head that infuriated me about this country and how it treated people of color. When I opened my eyes and looked around me, more people who didn’t look like me had attended. It was the most diversity I had seen in Norman in quite some time.
As we marched in the hot sun, chanting Breonna Taylor, chanting George Floyd and sayings that brought attention to police brutality and the change we all wanted to see and the anger we all felt, I felt a strength within me that made me think to myself “I wonder what Dad would be thinking right now, would he be proud of his son in this moment?” I knew he would be.
The Norman police blocking off streets for us to march down, and residents giving us water to keep us hydrated, and even having a mist spray on us so we wouldn’t faint felt like this was all of us together fighting for the same thing.
As I marched with my close friends, holding signs, and fighting for something altogether, it grew us close together. I thought of the empty pit I would have in my stomach everyday I wanted to speak in my Gaylord classes, as I felt like the only black person, that uneasy feeling I had as I presented Gaylord strong and felt the fall of it all so quickly. Now, it felt like it was all worth it, to feel the optimistic nature marching through the streets of Norman…knowing that change was coming, one way or the other.
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