Letter to my White friends

Yesterday the latest failure of the U.S. justice system erupted: the policeman who murdered Eric Garner using an illegal chokehold will not be indicted by New York State. That means he might never go to trial. Police shouldn’t be killing anyone, regardless of whether or not you committed a crime. That is not their job, but it is especially disturbing when the victim is an unarmed civilian who isn’t hurting anyone. This is the second time in just a couple of weeks that a White cop has literally gotten away with murder after killing an innocent Black person in the United States. And just two days ago, another police officer killed an unarmed Black man in Arizona. These are not isolated incidents. If you haven’t already, I implore you to read this short article, listing 25 ways innocent Black Americans have been killed linked to the incidents they mention. It was written by Ijeoma Oluo, a mother who wonders how she can explain this to her sons.

Eric Garner was killed pleading for his life in the street in broad daylight on video, and the cop who murdered him with his bare hands is not innocent until proven guilty. He’s just exempt from the whole thing.

These were Eric Garner’s dying words.

eric garners last words

The news broke a few hours before the Rockefeller Christmas Tree Lighting, a famous national tradition taking place just miles from where Eric Garner died. Activists called for the tree lighting to be canceled with the hashtag #NoJusticeNoTree on social media. We also asked celebrities to refuse to perform or use their time on stage to stand up for Black lives and against police brutality.

A friend and I went to protest the tree lighting. We got as close to the tree as we possibly could and tried to start some chants, but we seemed to be the only protesters there. When we yelled “Black lives matter/More than a tree,” we were told, “Now is not the time and place.”

“This is a Christmas celebration.”

“There are children here.”

But when is the right time and place? I love Christmas, but so did Eric Garner. He used to dress up as Santa Claus for his grandchildren. What about the families who won’t get to have a merry Christmas just because one of their family members dared to stand on the sidewalk? What about the Black American children who are themselves murdered by police? When will we stand up for them?

People of color around us looked at the ground sadly and said, “We understand, but protesting here won’t bring him back.”

And they’re right. No protest will ever bring back Eric Garner or Michael Brown or Tamir Rice or Aiyana Stanley-Jones or any of the other countless victims. Human lives are precious because once they’re gone, they’re gone forever.

I don’t know what the right time to protest is—but I know the wrong time to stay silent. We can’t let more innocent Black people die. We can’t live in a country that lets White cops go free after killing someone, without facing so much as a day in court. That is the system that we are living under today, and if we don’t do something, it is the system that will continue. The tally of deaths will rise and rise while we wait for the “right time” to demand justice.

In the end, the Rockefeller tree was lit.

We left before it happened. It was isolating to be the only ones in distress while everyone around us sang Christmas carols. Then, we found all the protesters who didn’t make it past the barricades into Rockefeller Plaza.

radiocitymusichall

We marched with hundreds of people taking over streets and chanting, “Black lives matter! Black lives matter!”

“No justice, no peace, no racist police!”

Repeating Eric Garner’s last words. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”

And Michael Brown’s. “Hands up, don’t shoot.”

We can’t let these words fade from our memories.

My friend and I found Tasha and walked across Broadway while all the cars stopped at a green light because there were too many of us. We were no longer alone. Traffic came to a complete halt as we took over the Westside Highway. And aside from the great mass of people who enveloped us, there were drivers honking in support, bus drivers raising their arms in solidarity, restaurant delivery people yelling as they zoomed past, even taxi drivers rolling down their windows to give us high fives.

It was a powerful reminder.

Every time you protest, you are representing all those who can’t.

White people are extremely safe on U.S. streets. We benefit the most from this unjust system that forces people with dark skin to fear for their lives while we have the “luxury” of being free. If we understand that everyone should have the right to exist, it is our responsibility to speak out.

The friend with whom I protested last night is biracial but often perceived as African American. After the protest she pointed out several times during the night when she was treated differently from me despite the fact that we were standing side-by-side saying and doing the exact same things. That is White privilege.

To my White, able-bodied friends: get out there and march. Stand in solidarity with the people of color who don’t have your privilege. Follow Black leaders and be a number in the streets. Even if you are completely jaded and believe that the protests won’t do anything to change the system, get to the streets. Do it to show support for the people who lost their loved ones simply because their skin was darker than ours. Do it because you love listening to rap songs about inequality. But how can you sing along in good conscience if you don’t speak out against it? Do it because you have the luxury of staying home and never being bothered by the police. Show the world the most basic fundamental truth: Black lives matter. The system is not doing it, so it is up to us.

Letter to my White friends

2013 in Review: Part One

In 2013, I took very few pictures and wrote even less, but it was such a great year that I decided to do a year-in-review post anyway.  Once I got started, I realized I had a lot to say about it, so I decided to break it up into three posts. This is the first.

I’d love to hear about your highlights from 2013 and see your end-of-year blog posts if you have any!

WINTER & SPRING

At the beginning of the year, I got my first full-time job in an office with a view of the whole city and moved in with my childhood friend Marissa. We hadn’t really hung out since doing our First Communion in 1998! Reconnecting with her has been really rad. My life and paychecks were finally stable enough to join a Community-Supported Agriculture program, start going to the YMCA, and grocery shop without looking at prices (as much). New York had its first big snow since I moved here! I felt absolutely rich.

I fell in love with Brooklyn in the spring, taking pictures of all the flowers, exploring fancy neighborhoods and noticing little distinctions, like the statues of Jesus in Boerum Hill and the large francophone population in Cobble Hill. At a fancy event, I saw Gloria Steinem in real life, and she let me take a picture with her!

I started trying on dresses for my wedding with help from Tasha who was the best fashion consultant and friend, schlepping all over and giving me sound advice. When I was on the brink of spending all the money Devin and I had on a big organza number from the ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ store, she reminded me to ‘say nice to the price’, and just like that shopping was fun again. I’d always dreamt of getting married in blue, but all the blue gowns in the city looked like something Cinderella’s step-sisters would wear so the search continued.

My cousin Vanessa threw me a tea party wedding shower, and Devin graduated from with a Master’s in Environmental Something-or-Other ; ) In his program, it’s a tradition to decorate your graduation cap, and he decorated it with a bird’s-eye view of his family farm complete with a replica of their tractor. He also put a gavel on it because he studied environmental laws and policies.

2013 in Review: Part One

It’s springtime in Brooklyn, and I have the Instagram pictures to prove it.

I’m head-over-heels for my new tote bag. Can you say ‘arm candy’?!
One of my neighbors is a secret gardener.
Across the East River lies a magical land called Manhattan, where cartons of orange juice cost at least $2.50 (according to the man who charged me $1.75 for a tiny carton of orange juice in Brooklyn).
If you must go to that overpriced borough, take the East River Ferry. That way you can get a closer look at the Williamsburg Bridge. 
Speaking of Williamsburg, this guy’s been driving around. Score one for subtle advertising.
Tasha’s style is having no trouble with the winter-spring transition.
Meanwhile, I’m trying my darndest to delude myself into believing I can pull off tennis shoes.

That’s all for now. Cross your fingers that I get to see a podiatrist soon, so I can go back to wearing tennis shoes only when I want to wear tennis shoes (i.e. never!).

It’s springtime in Brooklyn, and I have the Instagram pictures to prove it.