No justice, no peace

If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. -desmond tutu

If you didn’t already know, I currently live in Saint Paul, Minnesota, which is where I was born and grew up. I spent five years living in Minneapolis, attending the University of Minnesota College of Design before moving to Uptown for my first year of post-grad life. Together these two cities make the “Twin Cities” and they are hurting right now in more ways than one.

Like I did when coronavirus hit Italy, I thought I would share my own experience of what’s happening here. Italy is my second home, I’ve lived there twice, and because I have friends there I felt like I had an inside look to what was going on. I had to share what was happening, so that everyone in the US who was maybe blissfully unaware at that point could know how serious the pandemic really was.

I thought I would write a similar post for what’s happening here in the Twin Cities now, because I’m on the ground, at the protests, seeing things in live time and watching the story unfold from all sides. I know this is not my typical kind of post, but The Artful Everyday is about living intentionally, which isn’t possible without regard and love for our fellow humans and their own struggles. It is all about experiencing and observing firsthand other people and other cultures, so that we become more open to the world.

you are personally responsible for becoming more ethical than the society you grew up in. -eliezer yudkowsky

Disclaimer: these are just my own observations. Please forgive me if I mixed up any details, this is only meant to be my first-hand account of the events of the last few weeks, really an awakening for me and I’m sure many others across the globe.

Everyone already knows what’s happening here: an innocent black man named George Floyd was killed by a cop on our very streets, just for using a counterfeit bill. What happened is unacceptable and I know that people across the world are aware of what’s happening, because even my friends in Europe have contacted me asking if I’m okay. It’s very strange to be the spotlight of international news, but it has woken me up to my city, my country, and some realities that I honestly never knew existed, or simply ignored because they didn’t affect me. It’s embarrassing in a way to be the center of what has sparked worldwide protests, because it means that racism is alive and well where I live. 

white silence is violence.

Now I am admitting to my white privilege and vowing to never stay silent again. It starts with us as individuals, to collectively make a difference. White silence is violence, as I’ve seen so many signs say. 

History is unfolding in front of my very eyes. Protests, riots, and other demonstrations are happening in MY cities, and some nights it has felt like a war was being streamed in live time in front of me on the news, seeing streets and bridges that I know being taken over by rioters, police, and the national guard. Sirens have blared nonstop, helicopters constantly circling overhead, my local stores closed and boarded up. PEACEFUL protests have taken place, and I’ve stood among them and felt the calm and united energy. Felt the anger of the community, but the resolve to make change. Had water and snacks offered to me, seen masks handed out, observed people talking to one another and sharing their thoughts.

I have felt compelled to share what was happening from the beginning, knowing that I’ve been silent for way too long. Knowing that I have A LOT to unlearn, and A LOT to learn. Do I feel vulnerable sharing on my platform? Yeah, sometimes. Definitely. But that shouldn’t stop me from sharing. I know a lot of people are listening, and with a voice comes responsibility. If I can inspire others to have a conversation, to donate, or to take action to make change, I want to do that. I want to be able to dive deeper into what’s going on, so that everyone else is more aware too. 

As the past two weeks have shown me, the media does not give the full picture. Often it re-writes the narrative and I now see that I’ve believed that narrative for too long. My goal is to be honest with what I’m seeing, what my friends are seeing, and what’s happening in Minneapolis and Saint Paul. If you are following me on Instagram, you’ve already seen my coverage and hopefully have a better understanding of what’s going on. 

a riot is the language of the unheard. -martin luther king jr.

It all started on Memorial Day, when George Floyd died while being brutally arrested. By Tuesday, the videos taken by bystanders surfaced and people began talking about it. Wednesday people started protesting, and by Thursday the protests were happening in large numbers and when night fell, there was a lot of destruction. Fires were being set across both cities, including at the third precinct in Minneapolis. It was unreal to watch honestly. It seemed as if the city had just been given over, the precinct had been abandoned and there were no cops or National Guard present. I found myself googling why do people riot and why do people loot. I found some very informative information, and the quote by Martin Luther King Jr. kept playing over and over in my head, a riot is the language of the unheard.

I was upset by the death of George Floyd, I was upset for our black community, and I was upset that people in my cities were so hurt. That there was so much rage, built up over lifetimes of experiences in a racist society. I honestly had no idea how deep rooted this rage was, which I realize now is part of the problem. Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are, Benjamin Franklin once said. I have been playing those words over and over in my head, wondering how I could be so ignorant and oblivious in the past. Systemic racism, police brutality, gun violence…it hadn’t affected me personally and so I didn’t care, didn’t learn more about it, didn’t encourage conversations and push for change by signing petitions and contacting lawmakers and using my vote to the best I could. Often I would hear about issues and brush them off, because I believed that one day I would escape for a more peaceful life in Europe. While I still harbor the dream of living in Europe, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t mindfully fight racism, especially right now, and really no matter where I am in the world. I know that racism exists outside of the U.S., and it will be a conscious effort for the rest of my life to commit to being an ally to blacks and other people of color.

Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are. -Benjamin Franklin

Friday morning after the riots, I woke up and felt helpless as to what to do, where to go next. My brother invited me to come with him to help the clean-up efforts happening in Midway, the area of Saint Paul where fires and looting occurred. We arrived by noon and the clean-up was already done, but as we returned to our cars in a church parking lot they asked if we would help make medical kits for protestors. We agreed, though later questioned the exact motives of the people these kits would be going to, as the narrative around the destruction became confusing by late that night (outside aggressors, white supremacists, antifa, were all being accused of joining the rioting). We didn’t necessarily want to be aiding people who were doing wrong, but it’s hard to distinguish when many innocent people were being harmed, though they were just peacefully protesting this unfair death. What I knew for sure was that the police had already incited violence previous nights, and when I saw dried blood on a tube of burn cream, it all became real to me. People were protesting, and the police were hurting them. Before it was just a story on the news, or something I watched through the Instagram live of a friend who was there. Now it became real and I saw that police brutality was occurring. Granted, the previous night had turned very ugly, but in days to come there would be countless incidents of aggression toward peaceful protestors that I could not ignore.

We spent about two hours helping to build those kits, meeting some interesting people along the way. We signed up to come back to the church later to help hand out the kits, but later that afternoon a curfew was announced so we could no longer make it. I took a walk at 7:30, before the 8 p.m. curfew, and the city was eerily quiet like I had never seen it before. All of the stores on Grand Avenue boarded up, barely anyone out on the streets. I decided to go one block further and ended up being out a few minutes past 8:00, at which point an unmarked cop car drove by but didn’t stop me. I decided to run the last few blocks home just to be safe. We had pizza for dinner and then turned on the news, and I ended up staying awake until 2:30 am. 

All hell broke loose again Friday night, and even though the National Guard had been called in, the city looked like it had been abandoned for another night. So many fires were set, and there was more looting, and at some point in the night I saw word that outside groups had come into the cities to take advantage of the chaos. White anarchists, people from other states, even the drug cartel was mentioned. It was wild to watch it all unfold live. 

The next morning, Saturday, I received a text from my former host dad in Rome asking if I was okay. Others had reached out too, hearing about Minneapolis on the news. I started the day with a walk to clear my head, chatting with a friend who also felt compelled to get more involved. We decided to go to the protest that was happening later that afternoon, at the fifth precinct near a Wells Fargo that had burned the night before.

no justice, no peace.

We arrived and the building was still smoking, but the overall vibe was one of peace and community. I had never been to a protest before, and I felt nervous, not for my own safety but just for the gravity and importance of it. We tried to space out in the crowd, but thankfully everyone was wearing masks or being handed a mask to put on. People were giving out snacks and water and medics were present. The crowd was caring, peaceful, united. We chanted: no justice, no peace, prosecute the police; all four (only one cop had been arrested at that point); I can’t breathe; and say his name, George Floyd. We listened and we held up our fists in unity. 

I spotted MSNBC’s Ali Velshi, who I had been watching report live the past few nights. We got closer to his crew in the crowd so we could hear what they were reporting. Around 6:00 p.m. the news started circulating that the highways coming in and out of Minneapolis would be closing at 7:00. At first I thought this was crazy, because no one would be able to get home in time for the 8:00 curfew. Then later I realized it was to prevent people from out of town coming into the city. This realization terrified me. 

our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter. -martin luther king jr.

My friend and I decided to depart at 6:30, and by the time we were driving out of the city the freeways had already been closed. We passed humvees and ambulances full of officers and guards. Honestly we barely made it out of the city. Later I was glad we left when we did, because I watched videos of everyone at that protest being tear gassed and shot at for not following curfew, including the reporter who I had seen. From what I heard, they warned the crowd then minutes later cleared the area by force, not paying any attention to the media, who were allowed to be there covering the events. It was clear the police and National Guard were not playing any games tonight.

Meanwhile I was seeing very disturbing news on Instagram, videos of people parking in a neighborhood, putting a fake license plate on their car, declining to say who they were or what they were doing. Police were stopping all vehicles without licenses, and in most cases the drivers ranaway, leaving weapons behind. I saw lists of hotels where white supremacists were reportedly staying, and reports of the KKK gathering in parks in both cities. I saw a video that went viral of people being shot with rubber bullets on their front porch by the police, who had commanded them to get inside. I heard reports of neighborhoods who were on watch around the clock, because they had seen cars full of white supremacists driving around, some with weapons. People had planted gasoline in alleyways to start fires with later, and would do so the next night too. I had to text my friends and former landlords Saturday and Sunday night to make sure they were okay and had swept the area around their houses.

I stopped watching the news at 10:30 that night, because it felt like the city was under more control than previous nights, though I knew under the surface things were not safe, especially in Minneapolis. Like I said, people were up all night to the sound of helicopters, police, gunshots, just trying to make sure their houses and neighbors were safe. 

privilege is when you think something is not a problem because you aren’t affected personally.

Late that night, sometime around midnight, I heard what sounded like a gunshot. I found out the next day it was just a firework, but to say it shook me is a complete understatement. I have never felt fear like that before, I was shaking and once I fell asleep I could not stay asleep. All I could think was, is this how some people feel every night before going to bed? I have never been so aware of my previous safety. Is this how they feel? Terrified that if they need help they won’t be able to get it? If I had an actual emergency that night I don’t know what would have happened. 911 wasn’t really available, with all of the other emergencies happening all across the city.

Sunday I attended another peaceful protest, this time at the State Capitol. Once again the crowd was calm, yet surrounded by a huge presence of police and National Guard. A march occurred later that day that ended up crossing multiple bridges. This was when the semi-truck drove into the crowd on the 35W bridge. It was another terrifying thing to watch, and there are a few elements to note. The first question is, how did the truck get on the bridge where there were literally thousands of people? It seems he somehow got on the road before the police had closed it. The truck drove into the crowd, while people (heroes) chased it down and ended up extracting the driver from the vehicle. Some showed incredible restraint by protecting this man so the police could arrest him (he has since been released, as multiple witnesses have ascertained that it was an accident). The final information is this, that police sprayed mace on people who were running away from the bridge, trying to get to safety, believing that they had just survived a terrorist attack. They drove by, on their way to the bridge and the semi-truck, and maced people who were running away. This just doesn’t make sense, and there is video footage to prove it. It was a miracle no one was killed or hurt on that bridge, and I say that with a very grateful heart because I knew people who were on that bridge. 

in a racist society it is not enough to be non-racist, we must be anti-racist. -angela davis

The rest of Sunday evening calmed down, and it was another night with a curfew. Monday was calm, there were more peaceful protests but overall things had settled down in terms of violence at night. There were no more fires or looting. Tuesday afternoon I biked with some friends to join the sit-in at the Capitol lawn, which had been organized by high school students and drew a large crowd. Thankfully it is pretty easy to social distance on a large lawn like that, even with such a big group of people. The speakers that day were very inspiring, and gave me chills multiple times. I listened and I heard them, appreciating an opportunity to hear from a black point of view.

The whole week after the weekend of riots was full of more peaceful protesting, and still a large National Guard presence. Stores continue to be boarded up even as I write this, but are returning to normal hours, though things definitely did not feel normal. It was so odd to just see humvees full of guards driving around the cities. Or to go to the doctor and have to confirm that my pharmacy was still standing (it was, thanks to my pharmacist’s daughter who bravely talked rioters out of looting it one night). Some gas stations and grocery stores remained closed, some restaurants and stores completely burned to rubble. 

daddy changed the world. -gianna, george floyd’s daughter

Throughout all of this, I engaged in conversations on Instagram with people around the world. Being able to converse like this is one of the reasons I love social media. People were asking me questions and I was trying to explain what was happening as best as I could. It felt like the whole world was united over one cause, over Black Lives Matter, and I have never seen something like that before. I read that it is now the biggest civil rights movement to date, since every state and many other countries have now held protests. George Floyd’s plea that he couldn’t breathe has been heard around the world, and lit a fire. As his daughter Gianna said, daddy changed the world.

Also last week, I started to organize to do a supplies drop-off at one of the many sites that had popped up. Because grocery stores and pharmacies had been looted or burned down, there were now food deserts all over the city. Metro transit was not running, so people quite literally had no access to food or medicine (and as we know many people were already in dire straits because of the coronavirus). Over the past two weeks I can’t even count how many places have started taking donations, organizing them, and distributing within the community where it’s needed most. I was able to take some clothes to a clothes drive, and I purchased over $300 worth of baby diapers, wipes, formula, and cleaning supplies which I dropped off at the end of last week. (Thank you so much to everyone who donated to me so that I could do that) As I dropped off, my sister and I drove by part of Lake Street and saw just a sliver of the damage that’s left behind in the wake of all the anger.

if you’ve ever wondered what you’d do during slavery, the holocaust, or civil rights movement – you’re doing it now.

Unfortunately, that need isn’t just going to go away now that the rioting has stopped. The Cub Foods on Lake Street, one of the most affected areas in Minneapolis, won’t be able to reopen for at least six months. So, this need is going to be ongoing, especially as communities like Lake Street rebuild from all of the destruction. If you are interested in helping more, I am sharing resources every day as I see them on my Instagram stories. Personally, I am going to commit to doing a food/supply drop-off once a week for at least the next 3-4 weeks. 

It has been truly inspiring to see the community come together to help everyone in need. People woke up after nights of terror and went to clean-up, no questions asked. Restaurants turned into food shelves, and venue spaces turned into supply drop-offs. It seems like everyone is helping however they can, and the sense of unity is so strong. Not to mention the changes that have already happened as a direct result of the protests. All four officers involved in Floyd’s death have been arrested, public schools and universities have cancelled their contracts with the police (in favor of alternatives like more counselors and social workers), confederate monuments have been torn down, and a Civil Rights investigation of the Minneapolis Police Department has been launched. This is just to name a few things, and to prove that protesting works.

develop enough courage so that you can stand up for yourself and then stand up for someone else. -maya angelou

The momentum continues and peaceful protests continue. Now the entire nation, and other countries, stand with us. After two weeks of being consumed by the events, I want to take this week to reflect what my role will be in the future, and how I will actively work to be anti-racist, as well as help my community. If you have any ideas or want to share how you are doing this, please send me a message or comment below.

I’m trying my best to understand the situation and share the right things. I never want to stay silent on important matters, but I also realize that I am not in a position to speak knowingly on certain topics because of my skin color and the privilege I grew up with. I have no idea what it feels like to be black in America. I can try to imagine, but I don’t know firsthand. The fact that even this distinction exists is extremely upsetting. It was also extremely upsetting to watch a video of an innocent man being killed by police, for no reason, in broad daylight, in my city. We are all upset and heartbroken. Change has to happen along with accountability and justice. If you have a voice, use it.

no one is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin, or his background, or his religion. people must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite. -nelson mandela

Sending you all peace and love, wherever you are in the world. Thank you for reading my version of the story here. I know many bloggers are sharing resources, but I wanted to share the story first. I plan to share ways to help in an upcoming post (but am already posting many resources on my Instagram stories). There is so much more to be shared on these topics but first I felt like I had to publish my initial thoughts and experiences before diving in.