This commentary was originally published on August 25, 2014.
Tear gas and curfews and cops armed for battle --- a scene reminiscent of the too recent history of this nation’s racial strife.
It might as well be 1964, remarked one observer of the Ferguson, Missouri crisis.
For many African Americans of a certain generation, civil rights history is the language of protest. They are the beneficiaries of the hard fought social justice victories of the '50s and '60s. And yet, they know privilege cannot protect their sons from living while black. There may be a generational divide in the protesting crowds, but they share a singular vision about the persistence of systemic racism.
Michael Brown was reportedly shot six times by officer Darren Wilson, twice in the head. When his lifeless body dropped to the ground, it laid in the street uncovered for hours, a sign of disrespect that riled even the most stoic community residents. His death was a chilling addition to a recent spate of shootings of unarmed black men. In July Eric Garner died on Staten Island after a police officer grabbed him in a chokehold. Earlier this month 17-year-old Amir Brooks in Prince George’s County Maryland was chased and then killed by a police officer. Ezell Ford was shot and killed in Los Angeles by two police officers while walking near his home. Two days before, in Ohio, 22-year-old John Crawford was shot in a Wal-Mart by police officers who mistook his toy rifle for a real weapon. His last words “It’s not real!” Is it any wonder that the anger is real in the streets of Ferguson?
The young people aiming bottles, rocks and Molotov cocktails at Ferguson’s police officers don’t believe the legacy of the civil rights movement will ever impact their world. Theirs is a story of limitations, of bubbling under the surface frustrations finally boiling over. They know they are seen as thugs or predators. They know childhood fisticuffs can lead to jail sentences; they know that black unemployment -- double the overall rate-- is pretty much a guarantee.
“We are jobless men, and this is our job now—getting justice,” a 27 year old from Chicago told the Washington Post. When Dr. Martin Luther King described a riot as “the language of the unheard,” he might have been describing these disaffected young men typically shut out of the communal conversation.
Since Ferguson exploded, I’ve been struck by the absence of local political leadership. Perhaps because most of the 70 percent black population in the town is a no show at election time. Ferguson’s mayor-- --more than a week after Brown’s death-- declared “there is no racial divide in Ferguson.”
In another echo of the civil rights struggle, activists are going door to door registering new voters. Those political leaders who’ve chosen to turn a deaf ear to the demonstrators should pay close attention. And they would do wise to remember that an engaged citizenry armed with ballots is a powerful deterrent to those who would sanction rubber bullets.
Callie Crossley is the host of Under the Radar with Callie Crossley.
