Resistance - Nia Forrester Page 0,5

been shedding some angry tears of his own. My mother did what she always did—she tried to make things better and cheer us up.

We can’t let this go, my best friend, Tianna kept saying. We can’t just do nothing.

And we didn’t. We hadn’t been doing nothing even before the video came out. The organizing that was already happening kicked up a notch pretty much right away because we had been talking about the other incidents. Except what we planned to do before—come out with policy asks, platforms, petitions—felt tepid and insufficient now. So, we started talking about the protest march.

The plan was to coordinate with other groups around the country, but there were all like us, chomping at the bit and raring to go. No one wanted to wait to get ducks lined up. We had to take this to the streets, like now.

I was more than down for a protest. Not just for this incident, this moment, but for me. Because I was sick of feeling like I was on the sidelines of all the real mobilization efforts. Tianna’s always in the thick of it, but maybe it’s because I’m soft-spoken or whatever, but no one in the group ever calls me when they need to make things happen. Tianna has really good rapport with the groups on the West side of the city, and her call list is a mile long with community-based groups that are authentically youth-led. I only know mostly other college-based activists, and nobody thinks they have any real street cred.

College kids got too much to lose! Tee is always telling me. They ain’t about this life. Not for real for real.

Like we aren’t college kids ourselves.

But for sure Tianna sees herself as having less to lose. Because she has already lost so much.

She grew up in the South Bronx which everyone still thinks is the equivalent to serving several tours in Iraq even though that’s not true anymore. But that gives her a voice in making all kinds of decisions that no one bothers to consult me on, even though we’ve both been in the group for the same amount of time.

But I can’t feel resentful about that for real. Tee has three brothers … or had three brothers. Two of them were killed. One by police and the other by another Black kid. Both died before they were even twenty-one. Tee talks about them like they died yesterday. And I can’t say that it doesn’t feel like that since I’m an only kid.

To be real though? Tee is legit. She talks about dismantling structural racism with the kind of fire that would probably have her in public office one day if public office were something she would ever aspire to. Anyway, so she was one of the key organizers of the march down to the museum and I was excited to go. To support the movement, and to say his name in affirmation of his humanity.

We were starting south of City Hall and walking all the way up. Thousands would be there, people were saying.

There’s never been anything like this, not in this city, not unless it was about football, so far as I can tell. Definitely not since the Civil Rights Movement. Not since the Black Panther Party.

My grandfather was a Panther, and my dad grew up on their doctrine. Now he teaches it, at the same mostly white college that I go to, that Tee goes to, in the suburbs. I wanted to be there because I need to see some of this for myself. Not just on television, or Twitter. I mean, this was it. There would probably never be another chance in my lifetime; and if we succeed, there shouldn’t be.

Anyway, me and Tee met up with a bunch of the others, dressed as planned in all-black, backpacks filled with water, milk, power bars, rags, an extra-shirt. From the moment we got out there, I knew it was going to be a little less controlled than planned. The mood was frenetic, and even when people were standing still, the air was full of hyperkinetic energy. Folks were all fidgety, and bouncing back and forth on their feet, talking faster than normal, jittery, skittish.

It’s because it’s early, Tee said, when I pointed that out to her. It just happened. People are still real mad.

Things started out orderly enough, everyone relieved to have an outlet for all our coiled energy. There were people with bullhorns, Tee being one of them, directing