George Floyd Lives On

Last night, slightly against my better judgment, and with several degrees of trepidation, Baba Baxter Jones and I went out to the march in support of #GeorgeFloyd, #BreonnaTaylor, and #BlackLivesMatter.

The trepidation was not fear of the protestors, potential for violence, fear of arrest, or police brutality. I value and recognize the necessity of righteous anger, and do not fear it. I’ve been face to face with riot police, and Baba Baxter has directly experienced police brutality and ensuing permanent injury.

The hesitation to participate was concern about coronavirus. Both Baba Baxter and I fall into the highest risk categories regarding Covid19, due to age, chronic conditions, and auto-immune issues. We’ve been extremely disciplined about staying put since mid-March. Nevertheless, we were both so inspired by the current on-the-ground movement that we felt we had to go and be with our people.

The current movement is geared toward able-bodied young folks (young to me is anyone under 45!). They are walking for miles, at a clip, every night. PWD (people with disabilities) have no chance of keeping up. Thank god for Baba’s power chair, because there is no way I could have pushed him that long and that far. We walked for over an hour before we could even find and catch up with the group, and almost gave up. A few handfuls of stragglers  accompanied us, as we, together, tried to figure out the location and route of the marchers.

One young person shouted out to us, “YOU JUST MADE MY DAY!” I turned around to see who spoke, and it was an Asian person, who added, “I had a really hard day, and was beaten down all day. But seeing y’all out here makes up for all of it!” We met young folks of all races, from Detroit, Lansing, and everywhere in between.

When we finally spotted them coming toward us on Cass, our hearts burst with enthusiasm. We could feel the energy of the group approaching. The drummers pounded a steady rhythm while the chants were bellowed by strong, loud voices.

Being out in the sun with hundreds of people out in the streets gave me a burst of hope, energy, and inspiration that was exactly the medicine I needed. It was not enough to listen to podcasts and watch footage online. I had not realized until I got out there what the toll of isolation in the last few months had taken on me. My energy had been turned inward, but it was now time to turn it back outward.

I saw so many new faces. I’ve been marching and protesting and demonstrating for 30+ years, and all too often, it’s the same 100-200 people. I’ve been frustrated as baby boomers have led yet another round of “Blowing in the Wind” (no shade to Bob Dylan, but still…). At this event, there were only a handful of folks I recognized, and the rest were new. Many folks, mostly white, were handing out water bottles, picking up trash along the way, and handing out granola bars and oranges.

Another young Asian person I didn’t know came up to me. “I’m so glad to see you here!” They went on “You know how some Asian people are... the anti-Blackness in our families…. My parents didn’t want me to come out. So it’s so good to see older Asians here!” It hadn’t occurred to me while sitting at home that my mere presence could be reassuring to our younger Asian American community. Then I think about what Grace Lee Boggs meant to me, how startled I was to see her in the film, “The Grace Lee Project,” and how learning about her compelled me to seek her out, start coming to Detroit in 2009, and move here in 2013. We need to see what is possible. We need to see alternatives to the harmful brainwashing and colonizing many of us grew up with under the thumb of white degeneracy. We need to see others who are resisting and breaking the mold.

I participated in BLM protests in prior years, but this protest was different. The energy, enthusiasm, and channeled anger were similar, but for the most part, the white community had not shown up for those events. This protest was far more racially diverse than what I was used to, and for all the disparaging talk from Mayor Duggan of “outside agitators,” what I saw was interracial collaboration, and white participants respecting Black leadership, playing supporting roles rather than drawing attention to themselves. Frankly, this was new for me, because in activist circles of boomers and Gen Xers, this all too often is NOT the case, and white savior complex still looms large.

We came home and turned on the news to see what was being reported about the marches. Channel 2 was reporting on parallel marches in Lincoln Park, Rochester Hills, and Southfield. The people have been mobilized. The younger generations of millenials and Gen Z have taken over. I can’t begin to express how exciting this is for me, at age 56. I can’t tell you how hopeful I am feeling right now.

Could George Floyd and his family have foreseen the ripple effect, through the entire world, of his tragic death? The perfect storm—of the pandemic, the general strike it forced upon us, all the people at home and out of work, the pent-up energy of our youth, and the shocking visceral videos of recent murders of Black people—have turned the spark into a raging, global, sacred fire. Let it burn.

We must fan the flames. We can no longer tolerate the racist, sexist, oppressive systems that have kept us at bay, overworked, underpaid, unfulfilled, frustrated, fearful, knowing that we needed and deserved something much, much better.

Now is the time to reimagine the future we need. Don’t hold back. No idea is too outlandish. We must continue marching day in and day out, and declare our demands in no uncertain terms.

To tell you the truth, I may not join you very often. The lack of spatial distancing and masks made me nervous, and we have already lost too many beloved community members to Covid19. But this is not my movement. It belongs to the youth. In 10, 20, 30 years, they will tell the story to the next generations, of what they did in 2020, and how the changes in our society were shaped by their actions in that pivotal year.

I will cheer y’all on, my heart singing and chanting with you. Let me be a resource, let me lend my voice, my stories, and my experience. But this is all for you, and your generations to come. May we all be worthy of the legacy of George Floyd, and other Black comrades brutally murdered. May we all be worthy of the legacy of State Representative Isaac Robinson, and others we lost to Covid19, who would’ve been out in the streets, but who now are watching and celebrating and encouraging us from the spiritual realm.

We march today, we march tomorrow. We will create the future we need.