Hasta La Gadget!

I was maybe 11 or 12 years old the first time I saw police officers grab a man and slam him to the ground. The man was not being violent. To this day I don’t know what he did. I know that he was a drug addict. I know that from the way his face sagged, from how his eyes shifted in that sad, lost way unique to drug addicts. His clothes were caked with dirt and grime. He was whispering to himself, and his hands jerked nervously.

I was with a group of kids on our way to get free lunch at the school down the block. It was summertime. I was hot, and we were hungry. The man was walking in front of us, just feet away, when the cop car rolled up. No sirens, just the loud screech of brakes. The doors shot open, and those men in blue hurtled out, guns drawn. They didn’t look at us once. They tackled that man, who wasn’t resisting, whose hands were up in the air, and threw him to the ground.

By the time they threw him in that patrol car, he was bloodied, and I was on my knees, crying. Helpless. I remember the screams of the woman who ran up and tried to pull the officers off. I would later find out that the man was her son. Those screams have come back clear and loud and guttural, the pure sound of agony, when I’ve witnessed police brutality, seen its victims lying in blood or in a casket. When I’ve seen it splashed on the headlines.

* * *

The first time I experienced racism firsthand, I was in La Ceiba, Honduras. My brother and I were pulling oranges off the tree whose branches leaned over into our family’s patio. The neighbor came out, roaring over her fence. She would rather those oranges rot than let us eat them. She called us “prietos sucios,” “asquerosos,” criminals and a slew of other horrible things. I was all of 9 years old, and it was my first time in Honduras. My brother was 11. He pulled me behind him and gave that woman the finger. Later, when my mother heard what had happened, she was so enraged that she almost climbed over that fence to get that woman.

I didn’t understand then that this was my first experience with racism. I didn’t understand when my mother told me and my brother to stand back and away when she put up my blonde, pasty-skinned sister to hail a cab.

I didn’t understand until I was 13 and in boarding school and a lit cigarette was thrown at me and a St. Lucian friend from a passing truck as we made our my way back to our dorm. I remember the driver’s red face. Red from hate. I remember his yellow teeth bared in a snarl. I remember the way the spit flew out of his mouth when he yelled, “Go home, niggas.”

* * *

Yesterday we saw yet again a great miscarriage of justice. Another police officer, this one named Darren Wilson, will face no charges for killing an unarmed black man. Michael Brown joins a devastatingly long list of young black men killed by police or an overzealous neighborhood-watch captain, as was the case with Trayvon Martin, who was deemed “suspicious” by George Zimmerman, who claims he shot the 17-year-old in self-defense. Trayvon was wearing a hoodie and carrying a pack of Skittles and a bottle of Arizona Iced Tea. Zimmerman was later acquitted of all charges.

No one was surprised when the “No Indictment” decision was handed down yesterday, but we were all on edge — that is, those of us who care, who see what’s going on, who understand that this is just another example of how, according to the judicial system, the lives of black and brown young people don’t matter.

* * *

I went for a walk in Inwood Hill Park with my daughter last night. I was looking for reprieve. I was tense. I felt the weight like hands clenched around my throat so that I could barely breathe or swallow or talk. I was angry at the circus that was orchestrated around the announcement — delayed for hours, a state of emergency announced in Ferguson, the National Guard brought in. Was this preparation or a setup?

We were standing in the middle of the baseball field, looking up at the stars, when something told me to check to see if the decision had finally been announced. “NO INDICTMENT” stared back at me, taunting. I fell to my knees, crying. Yet again I was that kid watching an injustice occur right before my eyes and feeling helpless to do anything about it. I thought about my students, all those young men and women of color who, when I asked them, “Do you feel safe around the cops?” answered with a chorus of “No!” and “Hell, no!” and “They don’t protect us.”

My girl put her arms around me and asked, the question more an answer than anything, “Did the cop get away with it?”

I stared into those giant eyes that feel so much and nodded.

She started crying with me. “Why is the world so cruel, Mommy?”

What could I say? How do I explain such loss, such injustice to a 10-year-old who has such faith in this crumbling world?

* * *

Much of the work I do is around writing as social action. This semester I created a curriculum around Ferguson, the media coverage of the case and the portrayal of Michael Brown and other young black man men and women.

My daughter has sat in on these classes. She asks questions, and I answer. She knows about what happened in Ferguson. She’s felt the menacing ways that officers approach and carry themselves. I took her to Occupy Wall Street and involve her in the work I do. Shielding her from the world won’t save her from its pain.

As we walked home, holding each other, I said, “You know what really scares me?”

She looked up, her eyes still shiny. “What, Mommy?”

I looked into the forest, up at the bare branches of the trees, at the moonless sky, and then back to my girl. “I’m scared that we’ll lose hope. We can’t lose hope, mama. Even when it gets ugly and sad like this, we have to have hope.”

She was quiet for the rest of the walk home.

* * *

My brother’s death in June last year broke me in ways that will never come together again. What surprised me most about the grief was the rage that it stirred. A rage that was hot. It was old, and it terrified me. The more I write about violence and dig into the history of it in my life, the more that rage makes sense. The more I can understand and even sympathize with that rage. The more it seems a natural reaction to a devastating loss that brought up griefs I had never dealt with.

* * *

Last night, after the decision was announced, protests spread across the nation. A few were violent, but most were not, though the media would have you think otherwise. In New York protestors closed down three bridges. In Oakland protests began with a mass “die-in” where dozens of protestors lay on the ground and had their bodies outlined in chalk on the street, as if it were the site of a huge crime scene. Marches brought traffic to a standstill in both directions on I-580. There were protests in Seattle and Chicago and cities across the nation.

People went to social media to spout their views. Some applauded the protests. Others called the looters “animals,” “criminals,” etc.

This morning I posted the status “Grief manifests in myriad ways. One of them is collapse. Another is rage. Remember that before you call people animals.”

Almost immediately a friend whom I’ve had many a political argument with went on a rant, saying that there is no evidence to show that Darren Wilson was racist, but there is evidence to prove that Michael Brown was “a thug.”

“Those people protesting and rioting are mourning a thug,” he wrote.

I deleted his comment and told him to stay the fuck off my page.

Another person (whom I later defriended, because I can) wrote, “It’s a correct metaphor. They are behaving like animals.”

* * *

Earlier this week I wrote about the microaggressions that stack up to ruin you. I didn’t experience real, blatant racism until I was 9. Imagine having experienced it consistently from a young age. Imagine the kind of damage that does. Imagine what it’s like to be told time and again, both directly and subliminally, through the media and books and this fucked-up educational system, that you are less-than and that your people are less-than. Imagine the damage that does. And don’t even get me started on this legal system and the prison-industrial complex that now results in more black men being housed in prison than were slaves in 1850.

I understand I have privilege. I am not a black man. I do not have to worry about walking into certain neighborhoods and risking getting shot because of my skin color. I have dealt with prejudice, yes; I deal with it every fucking day, trust me, but not on the level that young black men do. I understand that. I understand because I work with young brown and black men who do. I have heard their stories. I have heard them tell me of the times they were stopped and frisked. I have read their pieces about the cops running at them with guns drawn, about how it felt the first time they were followed around a store. This shit is devastating. These kids are 13, 14, 15 years old.

* * *

I am not condoning looting and rioting, but I understand it. I understand that grief can manifest in rage. I understand that anger seethes. I understand helplessness and how it can strangle you. I understand because I wrote this with a rage and anger that was burning me from the inside. I have my writing. I know to sit here at my desk and put on some classical music to accompany the tapping of my fingers. What would I do if I didn’t have this release? I don’t want to imagine it. I know that this is privilege.

* * *

Last night, during prayer, my daughter thanked God for hope. I hope the universe listens.

A former Philadelphia police officer says that he’s standing with protesters in Ferguson, Missouri to send a message that police are oppressing the majority of Americans.

“Number one, I want to give the residents of Ferguson the knowledge that there are some police that do support them,” Ray Lewis, a former Philadelphia Police captain told Al Jazeera. “I want to try and get a message to mainstream America that that this system is corrupt, that police really are oppressing not only the black community, but also the whites,” he said.

“It’s an oppressive organization now controlled by the one percent of corporate America. Corporate America is using police forces as their mercenaries.”

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Lewis, who retired from the Philadelphia police force in 2004, was arrested during the Occupy Wall Street protests in November 2011.

More On Ferguson From HuffPost:

Photographic Evidence Reveals | ‘First Year Law Student Could Have Done Better Job’ | 61 Arrested | Ferguson Smolders After Night Of Fires | Protest Locations | Americans Deeply Divided | Police Chief: ‘Worse Than The Worst Night We Had In August’ | What You Can Do | Darren Wilson Interview | Darren Wilson Could Still Face Consequences | Timeline | Students Protest | Photos Of Darren Wilson’s Injuries Released | Shooting Witness Admitted Racism In Journal | Peaceful Responses Show The U.S. At Its Best | Reactions To Ferguson Decision | Prosecutor Gives Bizarre Press Conference | Notable Black Figures React | Jury Witness: ‘By The Time I Saw His Hands In The Air, He Got Shot’ | Thousands Protest Nationwide |

A half-day sit-in ended peacefully in Chicago after as many as 200 protesters packed into City Hall throughout Tuesday and pledged to remain for 28 hours.

Just before 7:30 p.m., however, organizers told The Huffington Post the protesters agreed to leave to avoid arrest. When attendees began filing into the fifth floor outside of Mayor Rahm Emanuel’s office Tuesday morning, organizers said they were warned they could face arrest if they remained past closing time at 5 p.m.

Malcolm London, a co-chair of the organizing group, The Black Youth Project 100, said the group had every intention of staying for the full 28 hours, but noted, “We don’t want folks who aren’t part of our group to get arrested — we don’t want anybody arrested. If we’re threatened with arrest, we’ll figure it out.”

At its peak, more than 200 people gathered for the protest, organizers estimated.

Tuesday’s sit-in was the second peaceful protest organized in part by BYP100 and other social justice groups. Following the decision by a grand jury in Ferguson, Missouri, to not indict police officer Darren Wilson in the shooting death of unarmed black teen Michael Brown, BYP100 and others helped organize a Monday night demonstration outside Chicago Police headquarters. Protesters eventually hit the streets, temporarily blocking part of Lake Shore Drive late Monday.

Organizers said the intended duration of the sit-in was a nod to a statistic from the Malcolm X Grassroots Project, that every 28 hours, a black person in the U.S. is killed by law enforcement.

Students from Village Leadership Academy came to the protest with their teacher on Tuesday afternoon.

Attendance ebbed and flowed throughout the day, but BYP 100 co-chair Malcolm London estimated as many as 200 people packed the fifth floor of City Hall during the most robust hours. Several attendees were high school and college students who, following the Ferguson grand jury’s decision, said they felt it was more important to be at the demonstration than in class.

Dayo Harris, a teacher at the social justice-oriented Village Leadership Academy, brought several students in grades 5 to 8 to the protest to supplement their classroom curriculum that includes grassroots movements, police brutality and the relationship between mental illness and incarceration.

“I’m always impressed by how much the students see — the stories they have,” Harris told The Huffington Post. “They have stories from their own communities that they witness of classism, racism, gender inequality.”

A protest sign on the floor during a lull in activity Tuesday.

Charlene Carruthers, the national coordinator for BYP100, said police aggression toward young black men is a national issue, but one that’s long been percolating in Chicago.

“A lot of people believe calling the police is safe,” Carruthers said. “But in the last five years alone, 89 people have been killed by police in Chicago.”

Police violence against people of color, the militarization of police forces and racial inequality were subjects of essays, songs, poems and speeches throughout the day.

“We need the police to have accountability beyond themselves,” said Ash Frost, 20.

Neither Emanuel nor anyone from his office spoke with the protestors. The mayor spent much of the day on the Northwest Side with President Barack Obama, who was in town for an immigration event. The mayor’s office released a statement Tuesday:

“The peaceful demonstrations in Chicago reflect our shared work as a community to build a partnership for peace, and the ongoing efforts between government, police, community leaders, faith leaders, and residents to ensure everyone in every neighborhood in Chicago enjoys the same sense of safety. Until we have achieved that important goal, our work together will not be complete.”

More On Ferguson From HuffPost:

Photographic Evidence Reveals | ‘First Year Law Student Could Have Done Better Job’ | 61 Arrested | Ferguson Smolders After Night Of Fires | Protest Locations | Americans Deeply Divided | Police Chief: ‘Worse Than The Worst Night We Had In August’ | What You Can Do | Darren Wilson Interview | Darren Wilson Could Still Face Consequences | Timeline | Students Protest | Photos Of Darren Wilson’s Injuries Released | Shooting Witness Admitted Racism In Journal | Peaceful Responses Show The U.S. At Its Best | Reactions To Ferguson Decision | Prosecutor Gives Bizarre Press Conference | Notable Black Figures React | Jury Witness: ‘By The Time I Saw His Hands In The Air, He Got Shot’ | Thousands Protest Nationwide |

Each and every minute felt like an hour. The first bulletin on Monday that the Ferguson grand jury had reached its decision — and that it would be announced that night — came around lunch time. All through the day, news anchors jumped back on CNN after every commercial break to declare breathlessly that word on the fate of Officer Darren Wilson was “just moments away!” As gray November skies turned a metallic black, Gov. Jay Nixon held a news conference to do nothing but voice his desire that reaction to this grand jury decision — not knowing what it would be, of course — would be respectful and tolerant.

Every few seconds, an overhead camera panned the crowd outside the City Hall in Ferguson, the suburb of St. Louis where an unarmed black teen named Mike Brown had been gunned down after a scuffle with Wilson on Aug. 9. And each time it looked like 50 to 100 more people had showed up — tense, milling, waiting outdoors for hours on a chilly night to hear whether or not there would be justice for Brown’s killing. The announcement was pushed back from 7 p.m. local time to 8 p.m., and then that hour came and TV cameras showed an empty podium for a dozen more minutes. Finally, St. Louis County D.A. Robert McCulloch emerged in his red power tie, brusque and arrogant, determined to get his brief and all-too-perfunctory words of concern for Brown’s family to spin his version of the case — and deliver the gut-punch that there would be no charges.

There were maybe 1,000 people massed outside the police station by then. Many wept and hugged each other, but their disappointment soon turned to anger. Brown’s mother, Lesley McSpadden, burst into tears and started shrieking, while Brown’s stepfather yelled, “Burn the bitch down.” Within minutes, a police car was in flames and gunshots were echoing in the distance.

The American twin tragedies — the abuse of a tainted justice system, the senseless destruction of a Missouri city — that played out before a national audience was surely the result of what today’s Internet might call too many cooks. There were so many missed moments when the situation could have been ratcheted down — starting with a teenager’s foolish decision to confront a cop and the cop’s decision to fire his gun at that youth 12 times, knowing he was unarmed, and leading to last night with a couple hundred knuckleheads who exploited a tragedy to loot and burn. But those bad decisions were in the heat of the moment.

But Robert McCulloch, the top law enforcement official in one of the nation’s largest counties, was the master chef in last night’s recipe for disaster. He had weeks to decide just exactly how he would release the eventual results of the grand jury probe. And he knew full well the most likely outcome was no indictment, because he had engineered it. He could have released the news earlier in the day, when many folks were still in work or school, or — as happened famously in the O.J. Simpson murder trial — he could have held the information overnight. Instead, he picked the moment when the largest number of protesters could gather, and react under the cover of deep darkness.

Why?

The announcement was just one of a number of crucial decisions by McCulloch that were either very odd, or maybe not odd at all after you consider his real objectives. Start in the early days of the crisis, when McCulloch — from a family of police officers, whose father was murdered by a black man in the 1960s, who won office with the enthusiastic backing of the police union and and who has never once prosecuted a law-enforcement officer for excessive force — joined with Nixon to resist any and all calls to remove himself from this case in favor of a fair and impartial special prosecutor.

Next came a series of McCulloch moves — to dump mounds of evidence on the grand jury, to not seek a specific charge against Wilson, and to allow the supposed target of the investigation to tell his side of the story for four hours — that all pointed in one direction, to guide the legal process to its predetermined outcome of no indictment.

Remember, Mike Brown’s supporters wanted, in the end, one thing: Equal justice, some kind of proof that young black lives matter. Instead, McCulloch determined that this case would be brought before the grand jury in a manner that NONE of the other hundreds of cases that he’s prosecuted in St. Louis County have ever been handled. In other words, justice for Mike Brown was separate — and highly unequal. I hope every defense attorney in St. Louis with a client under investigation demand that McCulloch treat it the same way he treated the case of Darren Wilson. Do you think McCulloch would be OK with that? And if not, how can you say that there was justice in this case?

The release last night of the supporting grand jury documents raises so many more questions than they answer. Lisa Bloom, a legal analyst for MSNBC, asked some hard-hitting ones online today. Why did prosecutors not cross-examine Wilson over some of the inconsistencies in the story he told to grand jurors? Why was the officer not grilled about the hospital report which found that after the shooting that he was “well-appearing, well-nourished, in no apparent distress.” Or about inconsistent statements in how many times and in what manner he was punched by Brown,or Brown’s final moves just before the killing?

McCulloch could have put some of these doubts to rest last night with a sober, respectful, balanced performance — but he chose to show his true self to the world. The prosecutor was smug, arrogant, and — in a massive irony — he managed to “indict” just about everyone who wasn’t named Mike Brown. He lashed out at the media — “the 24/7 news cycle and an insatiable appetite for something — for anything to talk about” — with no apologies for the war on the 1st Amendment that was waged in Ferguson, with 19 journalists arrested until Amnesty International finally arrived to monitor the human-rights violations. He lashed out at social media…because that’s just what people do in 2014. And his words about Mike Brown — a teenager who was shot and left on the hot asphalt for four-and-a-half hours — left little doubt whom McCulloch really wanted to charge.

Afterwards, CNN legal analyst Jeffrey Toobin, called McCulloch’s performance “an extended whine” and “entirely inappropriate and embarrassing.” I think Toobin was bring polite. But yet the many deserved criticisms of McCulloch for his strange and unjust handling of the most high-profile case in America didn’t get much air time on Monday night…because Ferguson was in flames by the time his whole, self-aggrandizing show was over, and TV cameras are drawn to fire.

But one possible answer to the question that loomed largest — why announce the decision at 8 p.m.? — is almost too disturbing to contemplate. Is it possible that McCulloch wanted every front page in America to show riots, and not linger on the injustice system in St’ Louis County. “Remember: Authorities in Ferguson worked really hard over the last few months to make the story today one of disorder rather than injustice,” Salon journalist Elias Isquith wrote yesterday. He nailed it. Remember the drumbeat of law-and-order stories — Gov. Jay Nixon taking the extraordinary move of declaring a state of emergency a week before the announcement — that stole the spotlight from how this story started…about social injustice, and policing in black communities? The white-hatted cops vs. the unruly/violent mob — that’s the storyline that people like Nixon and McCulloch feel most comfortable with, and so it’s the story that they’ve steered for weeks.

Why bother? Look, I don’t think the fate of Darren Wilson as a human being really means anything to the ruling class. At the end of the day, people like Bob McCulloch aren’t protecting Wilson so much as the system that he stood for — a system that has spent untold millions on creating police forces that resemble armies, that perpetuates an America of gated suburbs walled off from towns like Ferguson with their failing schools and failing labor markets, a nation where it’s corporate patrons of politicians who get to write the rules. Ironically, their efforts may have failed. Last night, hundreds of people took to the streets of every major U.S. city, to protest the injustice perpetuated by McCulloch & Co. Tonight, those numbers are in thousands — and the protests show no sign of letting up.

In other words, the cynical, reckless scheme by McCulloch to provoke a reaction may have succeeded a little too well. That’s one more irony in an unraveling that’s been fraught with them. After all, the whole process in Ferguson was geared to produce no charges of all. And yet somehow, though his immoral actions, Bob McCulloch accidentally managed to indict himself.

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