05.31.2020
Teargas. Flash bangs. Rubber bullets. Crowds running and screaming. Separated. Walking around the streets of Portland looking for a group of people. Windows boarded up. The police speeding up and down the streets, sirens blaring, loudspeaker roaring, riot trucks with ten cops pinned on the side. Smoke in the streets, fireworks going off.
My eyes burned. My skin burned. I couldn’t breathe. It tasted awful.
Flash bangs are LOUD. They sound like bombs. Or what I imagine bombs sound like. It’s scary.
Being shot at is scary. When you’re holding your hands up saying “don’t shoot”, it’s scarier.
The dystopian pandemic nightmare scene made me feel like I was actually really high and wasn’t experiencing what I was experiencing. But now that my body is finally reacting to what happened, I know it was just a coping mechanism to feel numb because I was actually walking through a dystopian hellscape of sorts.
The protest I joined was peaceful and remained peaceful until 8PM.
8PM. The city-imposed curfew time. While there was a protestor (or two) trying to agitate the police, the rest of the crowd remained peaceful and called on them to stop. The police reacted immediately.
That’s when the tear gas started. And then all hell broke loose.
The people are hurting and the pain is so real. I don’t know what the start of a revolution looks like but maybe it’s thousands of people all over the country getting together and demanding better from the law enforcement that is supposed to serve and protect them? For black lives and George Floyd and all of the many names the black community is asking us to say.
Maybe this is the start?