An acquaintance of mine, we will call Athena, a recent Master of Social Work graduate, participated in the police brutality and Black Lives Matter protests in Atlanta, GA, in 2020. She was with thousands of other protestors who gathered to see justice for Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd, and Breonna Taylor. Athena was exercising her right to a peaceful protest, using her MSW training to participate safely while still making an impact with her presence. Downtown Atlanta flooded with all races and demographics participating in civil disobedience. Athena was standing behind police tape in solidarity with other Atlantans when an officer on a bicycle asked her to step back. She responded calmly, “I am standing behind the line— I am not touching anything — Please don’t touch me— et Cetra” When the office became increasingly aggravated by her presence, he lifted a bicycle and shoved it against her body. A bystander in a red dress retaliated by grabbing the bike and pushing it back against the officer.
She responded calmly, “I am standing behind the line— I am not touching anything — Please don’t touch me—
I still cannot type or discuss the unfolding of these events without choking up. My city. My people. My home. Even though I know how the story turns out, each time I begin to share it or Athena tells her story, I hold my breath, and my hands shake. My body gets a visceral reaction on her behalf while simultaneously fearing she will be the next victim of a white police officer abusing power and taking an innocent melanated human life. An officer whose job is to serve and protect and whose presence is warranted to prevent violence and unrest … brutally attacked a peaceful protestor. I can speculate that his ego was threatened or thought protestors were out to get blood, “an eye for an eye.” Nonetheless, the officer was in the wrong. He participated in the act that my community was protesting and seeking justice for, police brutality.
She remains stoic, calm, and dignified like a pillar holding up the Parthenon.
I can only imagine how Athena felt at that moment. She remains stoic, calm, and dignified like a pillar holding up the Parthenon. Athena must have been shaking and filled with fear as I have, retelling her tale. Would she be next? Would she go home to her family to hang up her diploma and post her graduation portraits that week? Or would she lie dead on the unforgiving concrete under the forces of unchecked racism and power. As a result of the protests, Atlanta’s Chief of police resigned. Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms spoke up to have the offending officer fired. Unfortunately, one small group arrived with mal-intent and lit a cop car on fire, resulting in very different documentation of the events across media channels.
Atlanta, GA, is home to the American Civil Rights movement attributed to the leadership of the late Rev.Dr. Martin Luther King Junior. Our city displays countless reminders of Dr. King’s legacy. Fifty years after Dr.King’s assassination, black community members are murdered simply for existing, taking up space, wearing clothes, or moving, lifting their hands, resisting abusive power, and complying with unchecked racism and power. Blood is on all of our hands until blood is no longer shed. I like to believe that we all work together to bring his dream to life and continue pressing onward to construct a society where all lives cannot matter until black lives matter.
Fifty years after Dr.King’s assassination, black community members are murdered simply for existing, taking up space, wearing clothes, or moving, lifting their hands, resisting abusive power, and complying with unchecked racism and power.
Athena stood her ground with dignity and respect for the law asking for black lives to be valued and seen -- when an officer took a bicycle as a weapon against her is all too believable for the 2020s. I wanted to pay bail for her defenders. I wanted to scream. I did not have anything to give but my words and my work. And so I write. I document lived experiences. I interview. I share.
What must it have been like in the 1960s, then? When bigotry and racism were not hidden behind a veil. Instead, it was the status quo. How on these same Atlanta city blocks did gatherings of black protestors and their allies look and feel in the face of law enforcement? I can imagine sharing jugs of precious milk to calm the eyes of protestors who wanted a better life for their children and me– their children’s children. Milk that pours like a salve in one instance and a fuel for the flame of oppression in another. Protesting is costly. No one earned a living sitting arm and arm in the streets. I can only imagine how mothers must have ached to choose between feeding their babies a glass of milk at bedtime for one week and protecting the same child’s future from the insatiable belly of racism and oppression.
My stomach lurches, and my soul aches as I imagine myself or Athena protesting in 1965, when women did not have the right to vote, open a checking account, or attend most graduate schools. 1965 versus 2020. Both scenarios leave our lives at risk. But still, as women with Master's degrees, checking accounts, and the right to vote, we suffer less.
Cameras are everywhere and in nearly every individual’s hands to document events and spread messages. Cell phones capture police brutality and use their evidence to hold oppressors accountable. Bystanders post videos of law enforcement officers being exceptional and honorable. Light and dark, we stand together to snuff out the flames of systemic racism, hatred, and BIPOC oppression.
The clock ticks, and time passes, but what has changed between 1968 and 2023 regarding the American civil rights movement?
The clock ticks and time passes, but what has changed between 1968 and 2023 regarding the American civil rights movement? Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech still rings true because it has not yet been realized. Suppose it were not for keeping time and dates marked on pages or fashion trends and TIME magazine as tools to mark generational differences. It feels like Athena’s protest occurred only weeks after The March on Washington, the Alabama Bus boycotts, and the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Junior. In reality, the lynching of Ahmed Arbery, the assassination of Breonna Taylor, and the murder of George Floyd occurred 55 years after Dr. King’s death. I posit that in the year 2120, the stories from 1960-2020 may be lumped together as occurring in the same “time” in history, much the same way we in the present generation lump the 1800s together. Time is a social construction, and it is time that we woke up from our slumber and opened our eyes to the pervasive racism as a present persistent cancer moving humanity from life to death. We can continue to march in a comfortable and steady rhythm, accepting the status quo until death do we part from our woeful bigotry as a society. Or we can run and persevere until the end towards a new society reformed and reconciling the atrocities of our past with one colorful, culturally vibrant human race. Like M&M’s, humankind comes in various colors, but inside, we are all made from the same sweet and salty center.
I walk by Dr. King’s home and church and turn a corner on Auburn Avenue toward the 35-acre Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historic Site. When we memorialize a man, one would think society has taken his lessons and applied his wisdom to better and perfect ourselves. But on these same streets, men line up 100 deep in 90% humidity, waiting for a single bottle of water to escape the August heat. Each man reached his hand toward Dr. King’s message and legacy into the respite of an airconditioned Recreation center at Ebenezer Baptist church. Who can tell me that 2022 is a different time from 1962?
Light and dark, we stand together to snuff out the flames of systemic racism, hatred, and BIPOC oppression.
*Following the protest against police brutality in May of 2020, on June 12, a young 27-year-old male named Rayshard Brooks died at the hands of a police officer. The death toll continues to climb. Silence is murder. Speak up. Stand up. Take action—end racism.
UPDATE: The clock ticks, and time passes, but what has changed in 2025?
Diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives face fierce opposition today. Critics argue that DEI is divisive, branding efforts to address systemic inequality as unnecessary or harmful. The dismantling of DEI offices and the banning of Critical Race Theory (CRT) in schools are stark examples of this backlash. It’s a modern iteration of resistance to civil rights progress, cloaked in the language of "fairness" and "neutrality." Yet, as Garza’s herstory reminds us, movements like Black Lives Matter are built on the foundation of those who came before. They adapt, survive, and persist despite opposition.
Ersula Ore’s work, including her powerful examination of lynching as both a historical and contemporary practice, underscores how deeply embedded racial violence remains in American society. Lynching may no longer involve literal nooses in public squares, but its legacy persists in police violence, mass incarceration, and the economic strangulation of Black communities. The parallels are harrowing, a reminder that progress is not linear and that the fight for equity requires vigilance and resilience.
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