Lower Manhattan Mourns for Stolen Lives
Amidst conflict and despite solidarity, so-called outsiders could derail the Black Lives Matter movement. “The white people just kept yelling,” Kaji Douša said. “You can't chant ‘Black lives matter’ over Eric Garner's mother.”
“You can't chant ‘Black lives matter’ over Eric Garner's mother.” Photo by Alexandria Misch
Stepping off a southbound M15 bus onto the Madison Street sidewalk, four non-Black civilians weren’t sure where they were going exactly, but the group was en route to figure it out. Together, they hovered over an iPhone screen as the only adult listened to the guidance of the eldest of the three children. The map of lower Manhattan showed Foley Square wasn’t far from where they presently stood. “Let’s walk in the shade,” the father figure said after they oriented themselves. The surgical-masked crew crossed over to where the sun didn’t touch Oliver Street, weaved their way through construction—past the shirtless man lifting cement blocks as weights on Worth—and continued toward Centre Street. It was almost 4 p.m. on Friday, May 29, when they approached the ongoing protest.
Kaji Douša, a senior pastor at Park Avenue Christian Church on the Upper East Side, was already in position at the “We Can’t Breathe” Foley Square “vigil and march for stolen lives” recognizing George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and others who have died as a result of police brutality. As one of the organizers for the event, Douša prepared her remarks and posted a virtual message for her congregation—specifically telling people to stay home to protect themselves and others from contracting the coronavirus—ahead of time, but it wasn’t until MSNBC and other major news networks announced the planned vigil that Douša started to get concerned about the potential size of the crowd. “I really care about people's lives and also the lives of the people who they go back to,” she told Canal Street News. It's just irresponsible after we've all been on lockdown to be that close, and the press was no help,” she said, citing members of the media and others who violated COVID-19-specific six-feet social distancing requirements.
Within hours of the 11 a.m. mainstream coverage, an invitation had circulated on social media asking readers to dress in black, bring flowers, write the “name of someone killed by the police” on a sign, wear a face mask and meet in Foley Square. “Two things really hit us [organizers] when we saw the videos of George Floyd. One was that he kept saying he couldn’t breathe. The second—that he called out for his mama—just before he died. And so we thought this would be a time to pull people together and hear from one such mama, who lost her son,” Douša said of organizers inviting Gwen Carr, whose 43-year-old son Eric Garner said “I can’t breathe” 11 times before his death at the hands of a New York City police officer who used a chokehold around his neck to end his life in 2014. (Five years later, the Justice Department refused to bring federal civil rights charges against Officer Daniel Pantaleo.)
“So that was the plan,” Douša said. “We wanted to feature [Carr’s] voice and others, have some prayer and do a march to [Manhattan District Attorney] Cy Vance’s office to make sure that—as brutality happens—that he would prosecute appropriately and understand that the community requires this from him.” Douša and others also aimed to bring attention to Amy Cooper, the white woman who weaponized her words to call the police on a Black bird watcher in Central Park during a recent racist confrontation. But, as often the case in 2020, the plan soon started to derail.
Around 3 p.m., Douša said police from the lower Manhattan precinct she has worked with previously (as part of the New Sanctuary Coalition, Douša has participated in silent marches called “Jericho Walks” every Thursday for over a decade at 26 Federal Plaza to raise awareness for immigration injustice) inquired with the organizers about a group of disruptors who were starting to get in the faces of the officers. “Then they disappeared,” Douša said of the protestors she did not personally know. An hour later, as organizer Kirsten John Foy, founder of Arc of Justice, kicked off the planned event using megaphones to amplify their voices, Foley Square continued to fill up full of hundreds of participants chanting calls to action like “Black lives matter” and “arrest Amy Cooper” and asking, “How do you spell racist?” which was answered with “N-Y-P-D.”
Between conflicting attempts to stay socially distant and obtain the attention of the crowd, it was difficult to hear the formal programming. “We didn't have a sound permit, because obviously they're not issuing those, so we couldn't do a more sophisticated sound system,” Douša said. “But I've had that many people in Foley Square before. When people are dedicated to the cause, they figure out how to hear. These folks weren't doing that.” Douša stood along the edge of the fountain where the 50-foot “Triumph of the Human Spirit” monument towered above—not far from the colonial-era African Burial Ground—and witnessed the growing unrest as Carr took to the megaphone. “The white people just kept yelling,” she said. “You can't chant ‘Black lives matter’ over Eric Garner's mother.”
Douša described the group of white people yelling “fuck the police”—who she said “were not the anarchists” (“I know the anarchists, they come to our stuff.”)—as “well-organized” and “tactically savvy.” “I think they wanted [the police] to be in more of an aggressive position so that they could escalate,” she said. “I have questions.” Protestors on the ground tried to diffuse the situation. “Do you hear me? Don’t get violent,” one person warned others at Foley Square. “Do not get violent,” she repeated, echoing Eric Garner’s mother’s call to action. “I do not condone violence, but I understand,” Carr said during her speech. “Now what do we say? No justice…” The crowd that could hear her responded. “No peace!” they chanted back.
As NYC prepares for the fifth night of continuous protests, an increase in police presence and a city-wide curfew, business owners and members of the lower Manhattan community have publicly ramped up their support of Black lives online. Photo by Alexandria Misch
Despite the mix of participants, the duration of the event remained relatively peaceful even as arrests started to take place. “We can work with [the police] more or less,” Douša said, adding she identifies as an abolitionist. “A lot of it has to do with the commander on site, and what they feel about the first amendment.” Contrasting the scene in Foley Square to that of Barclays Center later in the evening, Douša said the Brooklyn police in riot gear “really messed up” and “took the completely wrong approach.” She said demonstrations are typically escalated by the police. “The actual protestors for Black lives are not going to be the ones to incite this violence.”
As NYC prepares for the fifth night of continuous protests, an increase in police presence and a city-wide curfew, business owners and members of the lower Manhattan community have publicly ramped up their support of Black lives online, even as neighborhoods like Chinatown have begun to suffer from physical destruction. “Silence is part of the problem,” Partybus Bakeshop, an artisan bakery and cafe on the Lower East Side, posted on Instagram. “As we mourn the senseless killings of our Black brothers and sisters across the country, Partybus Bakeshop stands in solidarity with protesters calling for an end to systemic oppression and police brutality.” Similarly, in a post notifying patrons that Golden Diner will be closing Tuesday through Friday of next week to “rest and reflect,” the Two Bridges restaurant said, “Our hearts are caving in, our minds are set aflame, and we want to be very clear on our stance in this fight.” The Pearl River Mart emporium also posted “in solidarity” with its neighbors. “This madness should NOT BE NORMAL and those responsible must be held accountable.” Meanwhile, Wing on Wo & Co. shared photos on Twitter from a 1975 protest against police brutality in Chinatown. “We must continue to show up and fight for our collective liberation. Our struggles are connected.”
For those who seek to show up in person in addition to online, Douša said, “If people choose to come and support—which I really do appreciate—look for Black leadership because this is about Black people.” She said if there’s no form of leadership, non-Black allies should take special precautions not just for themselves, but for the movement. “Don’t chant, don’t walk with your fists in the air or anything like that, because as things escalate, it's going to be Black people who are going to bear the brunt of your disobedience or your protest,” she said. “This is our protest. You're there to make sure the police don't kill us. But if you're actually getting caught up in the rage, then you're just heating up the situation for us to take the brunt of the consequences, and that is not in the least bit helpful.”
And for those who may gather in Foley Square tomorrow, June 2, for the planned “Police Brutality Protest” at 1 Police Plaza, Douša said non-Black people have choices to make. “If you can be there to witness or if you are willing to put your white body between the police and Black people—if you want to try to take that risk, and to make that kind of sacrifice, and it might go quite wrong for you, as it did for many people [on Friday]—then that's a risk that you have to be willing to assess.”
“Also,” she added. “Just don't forget that we're in the middle of a pandemic.”
