Memphis has had a march or protest of some sort every night since May 27. I’ve participated in 5 of the marches. I suspect I’ll attend more – though one of the stated goals was to ensure all 4 officers involved with the killing of George Floyd were arrested/charged, which has happened. There seems to progress, or at least our voices are being heard. The mayor held a press conference at the beginning of the June 3rd protest. Sustained change will come from continued pressure (maybe not in the form of marches every night) and from voting. The protests have also been rallies to get people to register to vote. They don’t push one party over another, but they do push the issues. Sadly, I skipped that night in favor of doing some twitter hashtag activism trying to debunk a misinformation campaign about a puppy being killed by a protester here in Memphis – the story made its way on to Tucker Carlson – who doesn’t bother with things like facts or fact-checking… anything to fan the flames. I’ll write about this in a different post.
In part 1 I wrote about the first night I joined in with the marches here in Memphis. It was a long and emotional night. The last night I participated (6/2/20) was just as emotional. It’s a little like a movie series, the first and last are good and the middle can be hit or miss. There have been grumblings within the movement that the organizer DeVante Hill is working with the police or he isn’t militant enough or doesn’t have enough credibility. There have been some factions that have splintered off and some tense divisions within the group. I have stuck with the largest group, the ones committed to non-violent protest.
On my fifth night, everyone met at the I Am A Man Plaza. It’s about a block away from the FedEx Forum where we met the first night I went out. At the very beginning of the night, one of the other visible activist figures, a guy name Frank Gottie, was trying to drum up support for shutting something down – a highway or something visible. He came walking in to the crowd with a few guys who were clearly there as his muscle. About a quarter of the crowd seemed to want to go with him. DeVante Hill, the other organizer was late, and it seemed like he might lose the crowd to Frank. When DeVante arrived, he had t-shirts for everyone (there’s a controversy over shirts and funds). The whole thing felt wrong. I don’t think the group needs to be militant, but bringing t-shirts and snacks makes it feel a little like a PTO meeting. Sure enough one of the protesters screamed out “We don’t want a fucking t-shirt.”
As a way to get control of the crowd, DeVante asked all the white people to get to one side of the monument and all of the black people to get to the other side. Those who didn’t fit in to those categories stayed in the middle. He had each side do chants like, “If you can’t breath, I can’t breath.” He would close his eyes and and ask the entire group to chant something and then say he couldn’t tell the difference between the white people and the black people. If I had to guess, white people outnumbered the black people by at least 2 to 1.
Getting people to turn out to things is a common problem in Memphis. I don’t know if it’s a transportation issue, and economic issue, a time issue, but it feels like our protests are only able to draw a few hundred or maybe over a thousand where as other cities are drawing in the thousands and tens of thousands (Houston had an estimated 60,000). Low turnout among the black community could also be a result of divisions within that community. All of which makes the work of Dr. King even more impressive.
From the I Am A Man Plaza, we marched. We headed south and started making our way towards South Memphis. Much of the march proceeded like it had on previous nights. We would stop at intersections and kneel for 9 minutes, we’d chant “no justice, no peace” we would do the call an response “say his name” “George Floyd.” At times the marches feel like a boot camp military approach. Marching with someone yelling and other people yelling back. It makes me wonder if this is the only way to mobilize people/forces/troops.
At one point, we passed under an overpass. The group was singing “we ready, we ready, we ready… for change.” The acoustics made for a powerful moment – amplifying the voices of the unheard.
At another intersection during a stop and kneel, DeVante recognized one of the women marching as a local homeless woman. He asked her to come forward. I recognized her too. A few months ago I was having a rough day and was walking through downtown, deep in thought. As I walked, this homeless woman approached heading in the opposite direction. In an encouraging voice she told me, “keep that head up!” Now, here she was marching with us. DeVante talked about how we need to march to help and end homelessness in this city, and then asked everyone to reach in to their pockets and help this woman right now. It was a moment of conflicted grace. The crowd was extremely generous – they filled a backpack with cash. Having worked in the homeless system, I know that she needs more than cash. I was worried about her safety – or how the money would get to her (if being handled by a middleman). Chances are, she doesn’t have a bank account like the rest of us – where will she keep the money? The gesture, while amazingly touching, may also put her in danger. As concerned as I was, I was also extremely proud to be in the middle of so many caring and generous people. For anyone who wants to denigrate the spirit of these protests or paint the protesters with broad strokes as being violent agitators, I can say our group raised money for a homeless woman and sang songs.
At yet another intersection, Frank Gottie was standing nearby and said to the few of us in the vicinity that DeVante doesn’t know where he’s going – he’s taking us in to the hood, and there’s looting going on there. And yes, DeVante was taking us in to the hood. He said a number of black people had reached out to him to tell him that they can’t get to the protests downtown. As such, he decided to bring the protests to them – residents lined the street and held fists up in the air as we passed. It was certainly a part of town I had never been through (admittedly, that’s not saying much). As we passed by vacant strip malls, we would stop and talk about supporting the economy of black neighborhoods or ask why aren’t these shops being revitalized.
Our ultimate destination was Mason Temple: Church of God in Christ Global Headquarters. On April 3, 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King delivered his famous “I’ve been to the mountaintop” speech. The next evening, at the Lorraine Motel, he was killed.
…Strangely enough, I would turn to the Almighty, and say, “If you allow me to live just a few years in the second half of the twentieth century, I will be happy.” Now that’s a strange statement to make, because the world is all messed up. The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land. Confusion all around. That’s a strange statement. But I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars. And I see God working in this period of the twentieth century in a away that men, in some strange way, are responding — something is happening in our world. The masses of people are rising up. And wherever they are assembled today, whether they are in Johannesburg, South Africa; Nairobi, Kenya; Accra, Ghana; New York City; Atlanta, Georgia; Jackson, Mississippi; or Memphis, Tennessee — the cry is always the same — “We want to be free.”
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Once again, the world is all messed up. The nation is sick and confusion is all around. We slowed our pace and sang “Amazing Grace” as we made our way to the church where Dr. King gave his last speech.