Black Lives Matter

August 9, 2014, was a hot Saturday in Saint Louis and, with the murder of Michael Brown that day, the heat intensified dramatically. Our community cried out in horror, frustration, and rage, our city burned, and our police and national guard showed just who they intended to protect. 

Neither Raina nor Lola remembers ever trusting the police – how could then when they have grown up seeing cell phone and bodycam footage of incredibly flagrant acts of police violence – and twelve years-old Lola does not remember a time before we had Black Lives Matter signs in our yards and our family regularly participated in BLM vigils.

We have pictures of little Lola making a sign with the awkward penmanship of a small kid; I think her first BLM vigil was when she was 5. We’ve been rather consistent since then: on a monthly basis, 1 – 5 Whomptons stand on sidewalks, hold our various signs, and spend an hour reminding our local community what it should already know.

Response from drivers-by has been mixed over the years. Back in 2014 – 2016, say, there were significantly more generally negative responses than positive ones. Folks would thumbs-down, or give us the finger, or shout things like “All lives matter” or “Trump for President.” One particular man was particularly incensed by us, and each month he’d stop on Clayton Road so he could yell “Michael Brown was a thug and he deserved to die.” That sentence still punches me in the gut.

In some ways, our sheltered kids learned a lot at these vigils. I remember a passer-by giving us the middle finger and then seeing my young daughter return the same gesture. When I asked her to stop, she replied that the other person had been waving at her, so she wanted to wave back in the same way. I then had to explain what raising a single middle finger actually meant, what that person was trying to communicate. Until that moment, she did not realize that it was anything other than a friendly gesture.

Over time, though, responses became more supportive: lots more people waving back, honking their horns, giving us a thumbs-up. After George Floyd was murdered, we attended a vigil on Clayton Road and the positive response was consistent and constant. It’s been over a year since Mr. Floyd’s death, 7 since Mike Brown’s death, and unfortunately memories are short.

Today’s vigil had more negative responses than we’ve had in recent times – maybe 5 or so middle-fingers and thumbs-down – and it also had some extraordinary invective. One man drove by slowly, pointed his finger at each individual person, and said “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” He also liberally insulted each person that he drove past, and occasionally stopped to throw even more pointed insults and threats of violence. He spared no one – he even included all four children present. I never prepped my girls on how to respond when an anonymous angry male says to them, “Fuck you, you cunt!” but, since that happened at today’s vigil, it’s clearly time for that conversation. Later, a different person sped past and hurled an open beer can at a few vigilers. We’ve experiences lots of threats of violence over the years but never had someone follow through (albeit in a cowardly fashion). I’m grateful that no one was hit by anything worse than liquid splatter. Overall, it was not a great day of community response, but was a good example of how important it is to continue loudly proclaiming BLACK LIVES MATTER.

Rest in Power, Mike Brown. May your memory be a blessing. May your memory be a revolution.