Standing With New Perspective

As people continue to protest for BLM, I continue to take a pause from our usual content to address an issue of human rights. Today is my perspective from the protests.

Over the last few days, I, as well as friends and family, have participated in protests in Joliet, Illinois. I'd like to share my experiences with those desperately needing a new perspective. We participated with the same protest group everyday since Thursday. Over the course of those four days, we saw and learned a lot.

I watched an old white couple approach the protest to ask about what we were doing. I watched white people step back and let their black brothers and sisters be heard, and after the couple listened to what they had to say, I watched them take up a place alongside them. They didn't have signs, so they rose their fists in the air. They took action quicker than I have ever seen.

I stood next to a young white man, as a couple drove up and started violently screaming at him. As black protesters ran to his aid, he waved them back, yelled in earnest to the couple, "I love you, I'll keep you in my heart," and unshaken, rejoined the protest.

I prepared myself for an onslaught of hatred immediately following this as a car pulled close to me. However, I found myself faced with people bringing us water, ice, food, and washcloths for the protesters standing in the hot sun. They explained that they couldn't stay to protest, but wanted to help however they could.

I met and talked with young black women that were filled with so much anguish, they didn't know what to do with it. They yelled that they didn't think this peaceful protest was doing anything, but they stayed. They chanted, held signs, and raised their fists high above their heads every day anyway, because they didn't know what else to do, but they felt they certainly had to do something. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget the look in their eyes: the defeat, the tiredness, the fury, the hatred, the desperation, the need for something I will never understand, all of this at once, and so much more.

I had the honor of talking with and getting to know the people who organized these Joliet protests. Two strangers, a 32 year old black woman, and a 31 year old white man, who both want positive change for not only their city, but for the world. They have been so kind to every person they encountered, giving every person a chance to do what's right. They are firm with those who threaten the peace, and unyielding to those who mean to cause harm. I have watched them support each other and the cause without question, and with an abundance of compassion. I have watched their frustrations as they deal with the police that openly mock them. These two still offered the police water and food, and continuously gave them opportunities to make a better choice. Their perseverance is genuinely something to behold.

I struggled to watch as a hurting, older black man, who had seen a lifetime of hatred, scream his frustrations out at my husband James, calling him a half breed. I am disappointed to say that in less than a heartbeat, I almost lost my temper at this man. There are so many people that experience that kind of righteous fury every day, and I wonder how they haven't all snapped. Before I could even take a step, complete strangers surrounded James in peaceful defense. In that moment I learned what real patience looks like, but let me be clear: no one should need to use this kind of patience. My moment of discomfort means absolutely nothing, because this is their reality every single day, except much worse and without the same support.

I thought I understood what we were fighting for, but I'm completely ignorant in thinking that, because this is something that white people could never understand. That fact has become incredibly clear to me after I have witnessed the black community of Joliet remain peaceful while faced with the disgusting face of discrimination. Being an ally doesn't mean you understand, or have the answers. It means setting your feelings aside to stand for people who aren't being heard. It means acting as a shield and a platform so they can be the sword and the speaker.

I encourage you to educate yourself and take action however you can. Here is a wonderful page where you can sign different petitions, donate to multiple charities, find the nearest protests, and more. I also encourage you to have conversations with someone in the black community and listen to their stories. Stand with them for even an hour and you'll gain a perspective you could never have imagined.

Don't let anyone fool you, silence is not peace. My Mess stands with Black Lives Matter.