The carefully assembled framework of oppression that runs back to America’s
conception takes on a new form in each passing generation, now like a silent force
working diligently beneath the floorboards, out of sight from the unaffected
passerby.
As Martin Luther King led his generation’s fight for equality, this generation’s efforts
to unveil the systematic oppression of its predecessors has come largely from an
unprecedented source of inspiration, a hashtag.
#BlackLivesMatter has become a symbol of the growing transparency behind police
brutality, and to some, evidence of a country being torn apart by hashtags, protests,
riots and bullets.
As a plight of names, statistics, trials and tweets dominate news and spark national
debate; a divisive race war is raging throughout the streets and screens of America.
Now four years after the death of Trayvon Martin, the term Black Lives Matter is
now a household phrase, but many don’t know the origin of the movement itself.
Rebuilding the Black liberation movement
Alicia Garza, Opal Tometi and Patrisse Cullors, three black queer women, started the
#BlackLivesMatter hashtag and movement as a call to action to unite Black people
after Trayvon Martin’s posthumous trial.
According to their official website, blacklivesmatter.com/herstory, “Black Lives
Matter is an ideological and political intervention in a world where Black lives are
systematically and intentionally targeted for demise.”
This movement aims to go beyond extrajudicial killings and narrow nationalism, but
to create a space to center those who have been marginalized even within Black
liberations movements themselves.
According to the website, “Black Lives Matter affirms the lives of Black queer and
trans folks, disabled folks, Black-undocumented folks, folks with records, women
and all Black lives along the gender spectrum.”
But somewhere between 2012 and today, the phrase has morphed from a unifying
Black liberation movement started by three queer women, to being solely
recognized as a political statement in response to police killings of Black
men.
Images of shaky cell-phone video and protests thousands of people strong, marching
through city streets have become the reference point for millions of Americans through mainstream media.
For Kenyatta Shamburger, program coordinator for multicultural student affairs at
ISU, talk of the modern civil rights movement and activism hits close to home on
many levels.
“The information about the civil rights movement that I grew up knowing was more
than just reading it in a book,” said Shamburger.
Originally from the South, Shamburger’s parents were actively involved in the Civil
Rights Movement, making conversations around race and activism normal
dinnertime conversation.
“When we think of civil rights movements, they tend to ebb and flow, and right now
we are in one of those heightened times,” said Shamburger. “We are in a state of
emergency, people are tired and are finding various ways to express and demand
justice.”
Killings made public in an era of shares, likes and retweets
Go back to the Civil Rights Movement in the 50s and 60s and most of the news
people got came from radio and TV, but the black church was a center point where
the pastors were also activists, and would preach a social gospel message, said
Shamburger.
Fast-forward to today, the message has become instantaneous with pictures, memes
and video being spread on social media.
“For me, as people continue to watch the videos they are reliving these traumatic
experiences, then the question becomes, what happens to your wellness and health
when you watch executions over and over again,” pondered Shamburger.
Shamburger himself has stopped watching these videos because he knows the
outcome.
“These are not actors, there is no ‘scene, cut, wash the blood off and move on to the
next scene’,” said Shamburger.
Leading the movement in 2016
Having attended a Northeastern in Boston, a predominantly white institution,
Kenyatta is familiar with the unique struggles that students of color face.
“I think back to my undergraduate experience and the leaders helped me navigate
these complex environments, now what I want to do is give back and help other
students navigate these same kinds of spaces,” said Shamburger.
One of those students is Julian Neely, sophomore in journalism and mass
communication and vice president of the Black Student Alliance.
Neely hosted his first Black Lives Matter rally in Des Moines two years ago with a
friends, and continues to regularly attend and speaks at protests and rallies in the
area.
“Black Lives Matter is a statement that speaks out saying that my life, my family’s
life, my community’s life, culture’s life, history’s life matters,” said Neely.
While the majority of images in the media show riots and violent protests, the
protests in Des Moines have been peaceful days filled with poetry readings, unified
chants, marches and comfort, said Neely.
“Black Lives Matter rallies and protests are an opportunity to express your emotions
and pain that you hold after an innocent human has been murdered,” said Neely.
“It’s an opportunity to get the attention of your city, police, government officials, and
more to see that this is an issue.”
Neely argued that the movement often gets pegged as a ‘black on blue’ issue because
not everyone understands what the movement stands for, and that it’s easier to
generalize and categorize.
“Black Lives Matter movement is a movement that is pushing change for many
things, not only the end of police brutality,” said Neely.
Neely said that he has experienced a lot of resistance trying to get people to listen
and contribute to the movement here in Ames, Iowa.
Where black lives represent 3.4% of the population
“When I say Black Lives Matter, I want people to realize that our lives matter too
and we aren’t saying anyone else’s life doesn’t, we want it matter as much as other
lives matter,” said Neely.
In Ames, Iowa, a predominantly white college town where African-Americans
represent less than four percent of the population, it can be difficult for many people
to make a personal connection to the movement.
“It’s one thing to be able to look at the television or your phone and see things
happening and acknowledge it, but if it’s not impacting my day to day interactions
then your response will be different,” said Shamburger.
Though Ames may not be hosting regular rallies, Shamburger doesn’t feel any less a
connection to the movement.
“I live in Ames, I am a black man, my life matters,” said Shamburger. “My daily
existence is a part of this movement, it may not be an organized march but my daily
interactions are a part of that.”
‘Hey, r u OK today?’
From the time I began constructing this story two weeks ago, three new cities, Tulsa,
Charloette and San Diego, were thrown into the media headlines, and three more
Black men lost their lives to due to a police shooting. This time, the news coverage of protesters filling the streets of Charlotte felt a little more personal to Shamburger.
“I have lots of friends marching down in Charlotte right now, I’ve been looking at
my phone daily and seeing messages that say ‘Hey, r u OK today,’” said Shamburger.
This has a direct impact on him, these are people that he loves and cares about.
“If you don’t have that personal connection, you don’t have to pay as close of
attention to it,” said Shamburger. “It’s not right or wrong, it’s just human nature.”
Black lives don’t stop mattering when they walk into school
When the next generation opens their books, or perhaps digital files of books, what
will they see, a hyperlinked hashtag #BlackLivesMatter leading to activist’s tweets
and an old iPhone video of Eric Garner’s death?
We can only speculate how the story of today’s movement will be re-told in schools
50 years from now, but what role should today’s teachers play in discussing the
Black Lives Matter movement?
“I think it’s necessary for teachers to talk to their students about what’s going on, it
would be a disservice to ignore what’s happening,” said Shamburger.
For example, Shamburger described the role a teacher of algebra, a seemingly
unrelated subject, could play in a student’s experience at school.
“Say someone is teaching an algebra class of 9th or 10th graders who have watched
these videos over and over, and if someone in that class may have had an interaction
with the cops or a shooting or a family member in the criminal justice system, if all
of that is going on around me, do I really care that a+b=c?” said Shamburger.
“I’m trying to survive and if I am staring down the barrel of a gun of someone who is
called to protect and serve, I don’t think how to solve for Y really matters.”
Neely had his own experiences at a predominantly white high school, which
ultimately prompted him to begin collecting and reading books to strengthen his
understanding of the systematic oppression of the black community.
“I remember I wore an ‘I am Trayvon Martin’ sweatshirt and students argued with
me about why he deserved to die,” said Neely. “After that moment, I began
intensifying my knowledge and education on mass incarceration, miseducation,
police brutality and racial discrimination.”
Shamburger acknowledges that often times people are not comfortable having
conversations about race, privilege and oppression.
“And that’s ok, own it, but don’t bury your head in sand and not have the
conversation,” said Shamburger, as he expressed the importance of educators duty
to educate, and be flexible in breaking from the script of lesson plans.
‘When black people get free, everybody gets free’
Shamburger likes to think that people want to be knowledgeable and concerned
about what’s happening now, especially with the presidential election coming up,
which is why he says being informed is more important than ever.
“Politics to economics to governing systems are all interconnected, we need to be
able to see this in the big picture, but also be able to understand what’s happening
on a smaller scale and why,” said Shamburger.
He encourages everyone to step out of their comfort zones, ask questions and learn.
“Somehow, someway we are connected to somebody that is being affected by
something,” said Shamburger.
“Once we start connecting with people at our point of
humanity, the possibilities begin to open up.”