Why public demos are not a waste of time

Saturday 9 July, I joined a public demonstration for the first time in my 27 years of existence. This is not something I would ordinarily participate in. Though I’ve never been apathetic towards injustice, I’ve always questioned the point of protests and demos. To me the history books and news media show us that people have been doing these things for centuries, and the majority of the time they seldom change anything but instead they just cause disruption. Nobody really listens.

Despite these thoughts and feelings, I was compelled to join #BlackLivesMatter movement in my home city Birmingham for two reasons.

1). I’m tired.

Over the past few months, particularly since the EU referendum, I’ve found myself and people close to me getting tangled up in more arguments on social media than I can remember. These days I can find myself getting wrapped up in multiple fights in my feeble efforts to dispel people’s ignorances before I even leaving the house in the morning. This is tiring.

2). I’m kind of an empath

When smart creative and optimistic people I really respect are also feeling the weight of the world, I feel it too. So when Aliyah, Olivia and the Artivists team put out the Facebook event page I knew it was time for me to step out of my comfort zone and stand with them.

We got together on Friday afternoon at Impact Hub Birmingham to make our placards and reconvened Saturday morning ready to hit the streets.

Arriving outside the Bullring at 12pm, we spent a bit of time reinforcing our signage with duck tape, and taped our mouths. I quickly became conscious of the crinkled foreheads of the confused onlookers who began to gaze. I could literally see what people were thinking. “Why are we protesting in Birmingham, UK?” “The police are not killing people here.” “That only happens in America,” they said with their eyes.

For the next two hours we stood in silence and it was in this time period I realised what this was really about for me. It became a profound opportunity to connect, reflect, grieve and begin a process of healing. Connect with others who understand the struggles of existence within a system that was not designed for us. Though we did not speak we could see and feel the solidarity - it was so needed.

I began to reflect deeply on the reason why I was there. For me this was not just about Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, this was about the black experience across the globe from history right up until the present day. From the everyday micro aggressions and covert racism to the blatant unjust killings and legacies of imperialism that has left many of our countries of origin impoverished. Our generation carries a burden to process and navigate the complexities of how we might learn from the triumphs and failures of our ancestors to build a better, more equal world. #BlackLivesMatter is as much about this for me as it is the racial stuff.

As we meditated collectively on the struggle, I began to notice more and more people joining us and it was then that I realised what this demo actually was.

In Caribbean culture, (and many others) when a family member dies, friends and relatives, many of whom you don’t even know turn up at your house and mourn your loss with you. In the first few days no one speaks much as there are no words, only tears, but just being with each other in the hard times makes all the difference. This is what #BlackLivesMatter #BLMBrum felt like for me, a solemn moment, part of a grieving process.

Artivists curated the moment beautifully. A carefully selected playlist of classic Hip hop soul/r&b anthems played from boom boxes serving up soundtracks to soothe the soul but these also doubled up as signals for crowd control as the numbers grew. So many people expected things to go awry but the tone of the event was so perfectly set.

At 2pm we ripped the tape from our mouths and began to March. This was the beginning of a healing process for me although there is still a lot left to be done. The collective release of anger and frustration was cathartic. The March up corporation street to the steelhouse lane police station was for the Kingsley Burrells and the Mark Duggans who have lost their lives at the hands of the UK establishment.

As a newbie this experience taught me a lot about the purpose of demonstrations and peaceful protests. I still don’t believe that in and of themselves they necessarily fix the problem they are set up to, it’s not like the police came out to answer questions or engage in real dialogue about the issues. But from this experience I personally conclude that when done right, they are worth the effort. The visibility of the multitude serves to expose the flaws in the system at large but on a more individual level, participation in protests do a lot to strengthen empower and heal those deeply affected by the issue or involved in the action.

In that sense, they actually change a lot. If the old adage ‘be the change you want to see’ is to really manifest, we can’t be that change if we’re too tired and broken. We can only do this together and if we support each other. Yesterday it felt like we are starting to learn this.