On Saturday afternoon, my wife, Lauren, and I joined thousands of fellow citizens in Civic Center to raise our voice in protest of the recent unjust killing of George Floyd by the Minneapolis police, Breonne Taylor by the Louisville police, and all unarmed African-Americans who die at the hands of law enforcement at an alarmingly high rate compared to those of other races. Surely, most officers care about their communities and seek to be honorable public servants in a difficult job. Yet this insidious outcome endures, and God is demanding better of us.
At this time, the protest was fairly organized and quite peaceful. There were people of every race and age, holding signs with a wide variety of messages--some were inflammatory, but all shared the just desire for meaningful change, towards a country characterized by real liberty and justice for all.
Before we marched down the 16th Street Mall, all were gathered on the lawn in front of the State House and on Lincoln St. The organizers orchestrated a sobering action: thousands laid face-down in the grass, sidewalk or street, with hands behind our backs as if handcuffed, chanting in unison "I can't breathe."
These words were infamously uttered in 2014 eleven times by Eric Garner, as he was held in a choke hold by a NYPD officer, and died as he was being detained. On May 25, George Floyd cried "I can't breathe" multiple times, along with cries for his mother, as an officer pressed Mr. Floyd's neck to the asphalt with his knee. For nine minutes.
As I laid in the grass for about ten minutes, chanting in solidarity, there were moments where it was actually hard to breathe as I would get a whiff of residual tear gas or whatever chemicals were still on the ground from the night before. Then I would realize how slight chemical irritation compares to the feelings of helplessness or restriction so many of our neighbors feel at the hands of those called to protect and serve, and in many other aspects of life in our country as one with black or brown skin."I can't breathe" continues to be somewhat of a tragic motto for our African-American sisters and brothers, to describe the ways that white supremacy and anti-black racism choke everyday life. When will we listen, and care to really understand? When will we "let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others?" When will we let justice roll down like the waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream?
As our hope is in Jesus Christ who makes all things new, may His Spirit lead us to proclaim and work toward the vision of God's Kingdom for which we hope, shalom: peace, justice, equity, and dignity.
Rev. Evan Amo
Peoples Presbyterian Church