Although at that moment, I felt a sense of contentment and solidarity towards the family of George Floyd, something deeper lingered in my mind and hung above my head; the deep-rooted systemic racism embedded in American society and how on earth I would unearth that conversation with my son someday. 

Four months ago, I birthed a son, and while his birth was a life changing experience for me, it was also bittersweet. My son can barely talk now, and he doesn’t know the consequences of his skin color. Still, I am acutely aware that someday, somewhere, as long as there is life in me, I will have to have the difficult conversations with him about the ramifications of wearing a hoodie at night in a suburban neighborhood as a Black man or driving a car that attracts the attention of the police and to say that I fear for that day is an understatement. On the other hand, to pretend that these dangers do not exist in the world would rob him of the right to know of this evil condition in the world called racism.

As a Black mother, I am acutely aware that society demands me to be strong all the time, to take things in stride, and always walk a fine line between remaining composed in the face of racial terrorism and living in an America that has been so wicked to Black lives. If George Floyd’s mother was still alive today, I could not begin to fathom the blinding pain that would shoot through her heart upon having to endure the unjust killing of her son, a son she nurtured and loved a son with whom she was so close. As a mother, I get it.

As I type this, the picture of Emmett Till’s mother crying over his casket plagues my mind and is another bitter reminder of the dangerous poison that is racism. My heart also breaks for the mothers of the Alton Sterlings, Daunte Wrights, Trayvon Martins, and thousands of other Black men and people who have lost their lives in the crossfires of systemic racism and police brutality. No mother should have to explain to their son why thousands of boys that look like him are shot at and killed, year in, year out. Yet, Black mothers across the US consistently bear the brunt of this painful reality. 

I am certain that the hashtag #JusticeForGeorgeFloyd will live on in Cyberspace. When the day comes for me to explain to my son the injustices that have been leveled against Black men for years, I will broach the topic with honesty, grit, and fortitude. Although I wish that I could protect him from the perils of this world, the truth is that I cannot, and that is why Black mothers like me need to recognize that we are faced with a precarious situation: raising Black boys who will thrive in a society that has all of the odds stacked against them. Some day, when my son is older and wiser, I will tell him about George Floyd and his trial, not to scare him or harden his heart, but to make him acutely aware of what it means to be a Black man in America because ignorance is deadly. Being a mother to a Black man in America carries a special type of terror. As I write this article, I am mulling over the many different ways that I will talk to my son about his roots, heritage, and future. For the umpteenth time, I have decided that I will use my words to buttress him against the hate that exists in the world for people that look like him, and above all, I will encourage him to remain his authentic, true Black self.

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“We were not treated as children…we were both children,” she said. 

Newsome was with her then 14-year-old brother, Hawk Newsome. The pair was on their way home after picking up some groceries at their grandmother’s house when they were targeted by police, who padded down their pockets and searched their grocery bags 

Newsome, 35, of the South Bronx, said that was her first experience with law enforcement and it was traumatic.

The feelings of  fear and trauma have never left her, she said.  As a black woman in America she said she is in constant danger of a police encounter that could go wrong.

“When we get pulled over in our  SUVs it’s like ‘will I make it home?, will they shoot me?’ It’s a protocol that I’ve practiced for years.” said Newsome. “Now when I get in the car and I’m getting pulled over for a cop to give us a ticket, I make sure I’m recording. I’m making sure I’m not moving around and my hands are stationary and this is a protocol.”

Microaggressions are also the norm for her. As a former financial advisor, Newsome received various comments from her white peers complimenting how she is “so well spoken” or “so articulate” as though black women are seen only through the lens of negative stereotypes. 

“Sadly, racism is so ingrained in our society that I don’t think most of them are trying to be insulting at all,” said Newsome. 

Knowing that she had to do something to fight institutionalized racism and other issues that overwhelmed her community. Chivona and her brother decided to organize  Black Lives Matters Greater New York. 

The siblings were raised in a “militant household”  and Hawk Newsome  said  their parents, who met at a civil rights rally, taught them about the importance of standing up for their community.

 He said while growing up not everyone could see the effects of racism first hand or understand how it affected communities of color, but now for younger generations, it’s the norm to be aware about these issues.

“You see things on your cell phone before they even hit the news,” said Newsome. “Those images you see are often revolutionary, they are exposing racism, they are exposing police brutality. Now we can expose individual acts of racism and we can go after the Karens of the world, but in the past we couldn’t do that.” 

Both siblings are now dedicated activists, they have led hundreds of protests over the past five years in favor of racial equality and ending systematic racism. 

Desi Smalls, a 24 year-old from Brooklyn, who has protested in New York City with the group, says the Trayvon Martin case made him understand the dangers he faced as a young black man.

“I remember being in junior high when it happened,” he said. “I will never forget the day that my mom explained to me that whole incident and how George Zimmerman was never held accountable for his actions and ever since then, I’ve been aware of my place in this country.”

For Smalls, living in New York  City has made him  feel safe to voice his opposition to racism. He believes the marchs will lead to change.

“Something will come from all of this. I definitely don’t feel like it’s all in vain,” he said.

Newsome believes that the protests will lead to the transformation the country needs. Recalling one of the chants used during their protests, she said,  “I believe we will win.” 

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Kamara Sudberry, 27, a native of Flint, Michigan, and diversity, equity, and inclusion specialist in healthcare, said that things might worsen before they get better.

“The deaths of Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery felt incredibly personal because of my proximity in age to theirs. I’m afraid that things might get worse before they get better,” she said.

Kamara Sudberry stands  in front of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. during the March on Washington on August 28th. Photo courtesy of Kamara Sudberry

Sudberry said that ironically, she was walking a 5K when news of Arbery’s death broke. She didn’t feel safe or comfortable afterward.

“I’ve been hurt about what is going on, but I have decided to pour my frustration into my work and use that energy to promote equity in the workplace,” said Sudberry. “Overt, cruel, and nasty racism is, unfortunately, something that I have seen all my life. Still, as a Black woman, the system feels designed for me to die early in life, and most likely, for no one to be held accountable for it.”

With the elections inching closer by the day, she hopes that a new dawn may be on the horizon. 

“I’m really worried about the effects that the election results will have in Michigan, but ultimately, I am hopeful, ” said Sudberry.

The disproportionate police brutality rates targeted towards Black people show that the shards of racial inequality remain firmly rooted in the U.S.

Nasredinne Younes wears the flag of his home country, Sudan, while holding up a “peace” sign. Photo courtesy of Nasredinne Younes

Nasredinne Younes, 24, a Sudanese immigrant and model for Endless Management in Grand Rapids, is also a senior studying Business and Public Relations at Grand Valley State University in Allendale, Michigan. He said that he had had a hard time seeing people marching and protesting in almost every city across America.

“My Muslim faith teaches me about the principles of love, and racism is not love, said Younes. “I feel unsafe as a Black man in America. It’s almost like, you don’t know when they’re going to kill you. I’m scared for my life.”

But despite his fears, Younes said he has hope for the future. 

“Hope is one of the vital elements of human experience,” he said.“You have to have hope to keep moving.”

Black people are not the only ones feeling the weight of racism.

Kai Ton Chau, a Chinese-American adjunct professor at Calvin University and Cornerstone University is haunted by racism. Photo courtesy of Kai Ton Chau

Kai Ton Chau, 58, a Chinese-American adjunct professor at Calvin University and Cornerstone University,  said it’s personal for him too.

“The police brutality happening in America is very similar to what is happening in Hong Kong between police and citizens,” he said. “There is a lot of racial tension in the country, but it is good that we are talking about it.”

Chau said that he  became an American citizen in 2019. 

“I am now eligible to vote, and I don’t take that responsibility for granted,’ he said. “I want to think critically about how I exercise my political and civil liberties during these precarious times. Still, as we have learned from history, this too shall pass, so I am hopeful.”

But hope is not a sentiment that everyone shares in the face of the current rising racial tensions in America.

Monroe Aki O’Bryant, 43, a Brooklyn native who lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan, is also an Abstract Photographer, Artist, Videographer, Curator, and Bus Driver. O’Bryant, who tells powerful stories through his art, said that hope is far-fetched for him because the Black community has been hoping for too long.

Monroe O’Bryant is interviewed at the Empowerment Network Podcast Show. Photo courtesy of Monroe O’ Bryant

“We sing, we march, but we never fight back. It’s time for us to fight back,” said O’Bryant. “Hope alone is not enough.”

Romel Jean Pierre, 27, a Haitian immigrant, Writer, Video Artist, Activist, and Non-profit Director for Konbit Mizik in Haiti, said that he is perplexed by the inequality which was all too apparent when he visited New York City.

 “I noticed that Manhattan was bustling with diversity in the daytime, but you could hardly find a Black person in Manhattan in the nighttime. Instead, they all lived in places like Queens and Flatbush,” he said.

Pierre  said he  is hopeful the deaths of  George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and so many others will lead to change.

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Richard Battle-Baxter, a 38-year-old black male of New Jersey, said he finally feels like white people are starting to show they care. And while he appreciates these gestures, it’s not enough. He wants them to truly flip the script and understand how they benefit from systematic racism.

“It’s not our problem to fix, because we didn’t create the system,” Baxter said. “What is my participation in it now?” “How did I benefit from the system as it is now? “And how did my ancestors benefit from it?” Understanding that from a white person’s perspective will give them more insight into why there is a disconnect in our system.”

And while Baxter is somewhat hopeful for the future, he’s doing his best at the moment to manage his stress.

“Think about the opportunity cost of the productivity loss of the entire black population because we are dealing with what’s going on now,” Baxter said. “We know that these murder have been happening. It’s been a conversation for us but we’ve had to suppress it. It’s the suppression of these feelings that has been stressful.”

Meka Seymour, a 26- year-old black woman living in Harlem, is finding her own way to navigate her feelings. She is doing what she can to volunteer, organize, and educate herself.

“I feel extremely heavy and burdened some days by what is happening right now,” Seymour said. “Peers see this education as an academic exercise. This isn’t an exercise for me. I feel stressed out and it’s scary to think you still have to argue for your humanity in society”.

Growing up as a light skin African American woman, living in a predominantly low income black neighborhood, Seymour does not recall experiencing a lot of racial transgressions. She does recall facing colorism, and feeling caught in the middle.

“I’m what people refer to as light skin. People would tell me I have good hair,” Seymour said. “It has been communicated to me since I was a little kid that I am a more acceptable brand of black. I thought that was just how society worked. And that’s a problem.”

Haroon Saleem, a 42-year -old Pakistani living in Los Angeles, said he’s not surprised at all by what is happening. Saleem faced routine discrimination as child, being called racial slurs and getting beat up on the playground for being Muslim. It led to depression issues he still battles with today.

“When you come from the amount of s–t we have, this is not as shocking as it might be for other folks,” Saleem said. “We have to fight for normalcy, have conversations and be diplomatic. What our country is going through is a much needed reckoning.”

Just a few days after the election of Donald Trump, Saleem was at a gas station when a couple nearby said, “Y’all need to get ready to go back.”

“That was a gut punch for sure,” Saleem said. “I’m an American citizen.”

Despite the racism he has endured, Saleem does his best to remain positive.

“There has been a lot more of a reaction and people acknowledging that this is an issue. And you want to remain positive because what’s the inverse?,” Saleem said. “I would much rather focus on doing everything possible to better this situation than throwing in the towel.”

And despite the protests and attention on race and police brutality, Baxter still fears for his life walking out of his front door, a fear he’s carried with him since childhood. A fear that, he said, is rooted in knowing things can start small but end up deadly.

“You turn on the TV and you see, stop killing black men. I think, wait a second, I’m a black man, stop killing me,” Baxter said. ”We’re not asking for much. We just want to be equal.”

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The name change was part of an effort to re-focus attention on the protests against police brutality, and the defunding of the Seattle Police Department. Some organizers are worried that the area is turning into a “block party” for curious Seattleites, and losing the momentum of a political movement. The shift also comes after some right-wing media claimed that protestors were intent on seceding from the United States altogether.

The initial confusion surrounding the name change can also be seen as a symptom of disagreement among the protestors themselves. While some organizers are intent on keeping focused on issues of police brutality, there are others who want to expand the mission, and turn the protest zone into an anarchist space offering mutual aid to marginalized groups.

Some protestors would like the Police Precinct at 11th and Pine to be turned into a community center. While police have gone in and out of the East Precinct since the zone’s creation, the building’s future remains unclear.

On June 16th, the Seattle Department of Transportation and the city’s Fire Department swapped CHOP’s plastic orange barricades for concrete ones, opening up traffic on 12th Street, and providing security for protestors concerned about cars attempting to drive through the zone.

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The main message of the demonstration was to destroy systematic racism in the U.S and defund the police. They also called to refund education and criticized L.A. District Attorney Jackie Lacey.  The demonstrators marched from Mariachi Plaza to Hall of Justice.  

They chanted, “Lacey  has got to go”, “No justice no peace, No racist police” and encouraged everyone to join the march. 

Protestor prepares for the march. Photo by Talgat Almanov

Roosevelt High School alumni leads other protestors chanting “Defund the Police.”Photo by Talgat Almanov

Protestors chanting “Black Lives Matter” and “Defund the Police.”Photo by Talgat Almanov

Protestor gives an interview staying 6 feet away from a journalist. Photo by Talgat Almanov

Protestors walk through the highway towards Downtown. Photo by Talgat Almanov

Protestor holds a “Prosecute killer cops” sign. Photo by Talgat Almanov

Protester holds a “Black Lives Matter” sign. Photo by Talgat Almanov

Protestor leads others chanting “Why can’t we matter? Photo by Talgat Almanov

Roosevelt High School alumni call to join the march and thank their sponsors and supporters. Photo by Talgat Almanov

Protestor listens to Roosevelt High School alumni speak. Photo by Talgat Almanov

Protestors dressed in traditional indigenous clothing. Photo by Talgat Almanov

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Since June 8th, Seattle protestors have taken up residence inside a six block “Autonomous Zone” in the Capitol Hill neighborhood, referred to as CHAZ.

After two weeks of clashes between police and protestors throughout the city, Seattle Police Chief Carmen Best said law enforcement officers boarded up and left the East Precinct in “an exercise in trust and deescalation.” She has denied responsibility for the decision to leave.

The “no cop” area held by protestors has drawn national attention, and even the ire of President Trump, who has called for the “ugly Anarchists” to be “stooped [sic] IMMEDIATELY.”

Capitol Hill residents have described CHAZ as “extremely chill,” and Seattle Mayor Jenny Durkan has said she isn’t sure how long the settlement will last, joking on CNN that Seattle could have “a summer of love.”

While the fate of CHAZ is unclear, protestors have released a list of demands on their website, calling for the complete defunding and abolishment of the Seattle Police Department.

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Rosario of the Bronx, stood with a modest group of protestors just feet from hundreds of NYPD officers at Bratton’s retirement ceremony yesterday  fighting for their voices to be heard over praise for Bratton. Rosario said Bratton’s controversial policing methods were to blame for an increase in police brutality and deaths.

Rosario’s son Anthony, was shot 14 times times, mostly in the back and side in the Morris Heights section of the Bronx in 1995. At her feet were various news stories and photos of the police brutality that has tarnished Bratton’s record. Bratton served in the NYPD from 1994-1996, and was reinstated by Mayor Bill de Blasio three years ago.

“When Mayor de Blasio put this criminal back into commission, it hurt me and other parents to see this man who has caused so many deaths”, Rosario said. “de Blasio didn’t care about the families. Again, he put Bratton in office. We just can’t get rid of this criminal.”

As Rosario spoke to the group, bagpipes sounded from across the plaza. The ceremony was set to begin soon, and more uniformed officers flooded in to honor their commissioner.

“I believe the blood that has been spilled in New York City has to do with Commissioner Bratton,” Rosario said fiercely. “They’re all corrupt, it doesn’t matter who places him. Corruption goes with police brutality.”

Detectives Patrick J. Brosnan and James Crowe were investing a robbery in a Bronx apartment in 1995 when they shot and killed Anthony Rosario and his cousin Hilton Vega, 21. A third suspect was wounded. Twenty-two shots were fired killing them both. Most of the shots hit the young men in the back. Family members said the men were face down on the ground when killed, but police say they were reaching for a gun. Police had responded to a call about the men stealing $50 from a neighbor. No charges were filed against police, but the families were awarded $1.1 million in a civil trial.

In his 46 year career as an officer, Bratton has served in Los Angeles, Boston and New York City. He resigned in July as the outrage over police brutality in the city increased.

Departments across the country imitated Bratton’s policies, including his “broken windows” policing, which held that violent crime could be deterred if police crack down on lesser crimes, such as turnstile jumping and graffiti.

Donna Heyward, 47 of Brooklyn’s Gowanus Projects, said she lost her stepson to Bratton’s policies in 1994 when he was just 13.

Heyward pressed herself against barricades separating her from NYPD officers congregated in 1 Police Plaza. She shouted expletives with tears in her eyes as officers, toting dogs and pepper spray, eagerly awaited the arrival of the famed retiring police commissioner.

“He should have never come back with his broken windows policy,” said Heyward. “I don’t see why they even let him come back in after the damage he did in the 90s.”

While the homicide rate declined significantly during Bratton’s tenure, criminologists concluded that focusing on more innocuous crimes had minimal impact on violent crimes. Homicides continued to plummet even after Bratton left the NYPD.

“It’s ridiculous how focused he is on neighborhoods where the underprivileged are living,” Heyward said. “Why do they harass these people? Why don’t they open up these communities and give youths something to do? They close every activity, they take everything away, to give themselves reason to have these kids arrested.”

While Mayor de Blasio has championed the protection of civil rights, the Inspector General for the NYPD has reported the department’s systemic singling-out of minorities, having received complaints including improper use of force.

“It’s all people of color,” Heyward went on. “We’re the ones who get it most. You open the news, you hear about the next black child who got killed because, ‘Oh, I thought he had a gun’.”

Some of the protestors held photos of loved ones, but others held  news clippings featuring Eric Garner, who was placed in a lethal chokehold by NYPD Officer Daniel Pantaleo in 2014.

Protestors from all five boroughs waited with Heyward across the plaza laden with signs plastered with faces of young New Yorkers who had fallen victim to police brutality in the 1990s.

“Not all cops who live around me are bad guys,” said Gary Phaneuf, 54, of Staten Island. “I got a guy next door to me used to be DEA and he cuts my grass. But the really bad ones, like Pantaleo killing Eric Garner, it’s terrible. The idea that these cops get away with murder, it’s just terrible.”

In a New York Times op-ed, Bratton boldly called himself a “reformer”, having changed the way NYPD officers interact one another as well as with nonviolent criminals throughout New York City.

“There are police reformers from outside the profession,” Bratton wrote, “who think that changing police culture is a matter of passing regulations, establishing oversight bodies and more or less legislating a new order. It is not…what changes police culture is leadership from within.”

While Bratton maintained that cops could change other cops, public opinion of the police and confidence in the NYPD has remained low.

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