What I Saw

First, let me tell you what I didn't see. Despite many rumors to the contrary, I did not see any thugs in uptown Charlotte on Wednesday, September 21st. I joined the Charlotte Clergy Coalition for Justice at Little Rock AME Zion, where we were asked to be a calming presence in the crowd during the planned demonstration for the night. We each wore a yellow arm band and we walked together to Marshall Park. There were hundreds of people there, many making their own impassioned speeches inside the crowd. Their signs said, "Not One More" and "Black Lives Matter."

While walking through the park (we were instructed to disperse in the crowd), a check dropped out of my pocket. A lovely woman came up to me with her son and asked, "What is your name?" I answered, wondering why she would want that information from me in the middle of this crowd, and she handed me the check with my name on it. Her son, about 10 years old, has a podcast and asked to interview me. He asked excellent questions: why was I here? what did I think should be done about police shootings? I don't have his permission to publish his site, but I was honored to be part of his project.

From Marshall Park, the group walked to Little Rock AME Zion--about five blocks. The crowd took over one side of the street. The chants were, "No justice, no peace!" and "Hands up! Don't Shoot!" (Click on quotes to hear recordings). At Little Rock, the anger of the crowd began to rise. Young people started to say, "We don't need to be at a church, we need to be at the police station!" So they turned there and walked to the police station. On the way, I met a young man whose father is a 20 year veteran on the police force. He smiled and said, "That was him that just went by." His father had patted his shoulder. I had a brief interview with him, which you can listen to here.

At the police station, many people were making speeches. By that time, only one other clergy person and I could find each other. The crowd began to talk about heading up Trade St. to the EpiCenter. As we walked with them up the street, my fellow clergyman and I talked about the change in tenor that the crowd had made. Anger had been bubbling since the march started, but it had reached a boiling point at the police station. Neither of us thought going up to the EpiCenter was going to end well, but the crowd had its own momentum and neither of us were leaders inside that crowd. We also talked about how we had worn the wrong shoes for such a long march.

 It did not take long for things to turn at the EpiCenter. The people in the crowd were already at a boiling point. And while the policemen on bicycles had not seemed to bother anyone, the appearance of police, in a long phalanx in full riot gear, inflamed everyone. I'd like to note at this point that there were many children in the crowd. I cannot tell you for sure what would have happened had the police not shown up in riot gear, obviously. I can say that many people brought young children and teenagers to what they had thought would be a peaceful protest. After those riot teams showed up, the anger that had been boiling poured out. The people who had at first gone up into the EpiCenter came back down and began confronting the police face to face.

The leaders in the Clergy Coalition asked us to form a barrier between the people in the protest and the people policing the protest, and so we joined hands with other clergy and did so. As I stood there, a woman came up next to me and said, "Who are y'all?" I told her that we were clergy and that we were trying to be a peaceful presence and help everyone get home safely. She said, "We just want to ask for our rights." She was tearful--a small woman standing right in front of police in body armor, with batons and other weapons ready. The police gave a signal and began to move up the street. My colleague said, "Put your hands on my shoulders!" So I did and we walked up Trade St. with our line of clergy between the protesters and the police. When the police turned into the Omni Hotel parking lot, we were part of a large crowd crammed together at the entrance. A young woman turned to me and very pointedly said, "White Silence Equals Violence!" I understood her anger. I said, "I'm here," which was all I could think of to say.

I can't remember if the sound of a gun being fired came first or if the tear gas came first. People turned. Someone said, "Don't run! Don't run!" It became a situation where fear took over and most people did their best to get away from that spot. Tear gas hits you in the back of your throat. It is oily and sticks to your clothes and your hair. I was not close enough for it to get in my eyes, but everyone in that vicinity began coughing and covering faces.

I did not stay much longer, primarily because I did not see a role in which I could be helpful. No one in the crowd knew me or would welcome my words of comfort since I was a stranger, and a white stranger at that. As more police moved in and as more protesters stood their ground, the situation became chaotic. A few others from the clergy group were ready to leave and a few decided to stay. When I got back to my car, I did drive back up Trade to see if anyone was walking down the street or looking for a ride, but I did not see anyone and I returned to my house, about half a mile away.

For me, the need to write this event up and share it is a response to reading many opinions about this event that included the word "thug" or condemned the looting and violence of the event. It is not my intention to justify looting or violence. I would say that it is very easy to prioritize property over people, especially if we have not been on the receiving end of injustice. This is my attempt to elevate the people who had a few reasonable demands and asked to be heard.