Hi reader,
On Monday, I delayed a prepared monthly newsletter to share my real time thoughts. I apologize to the true creatures of habit, I know it's hard to change, and now is hardly the right time to introduce the new challenge of starting a month without the usual crap TOA newsletter. I took another look just now at the newsletter I originally prepared and I'm going to delay it for a few more days, maybe a week. I'll even give it a new, possibly clever name that marks it as a collateral descendant of the original concept. This shouldn't be too much effort. Longtime readers will not be surprised to hear that there was very little 'timely' information in the post, so I'll likely publish it with minimal changes. But I'll wait until the time is right.
In some ways today has been similar to Sunday. I went for a walk earlier this evening. The streets were empty and void of the negative, tense energy that was so foreboding on Sunday. It started to rain as I entered the Public Garden. The ducks floated easily over the occasional ripple caused from each lonely raindrop. About halfway around the pond, a park officer stopped me on my walk and told me they were closing soon. I wasn't being kicked out, I wasn't even being asked to leave, I was simply receiving useful information, but I knew it wasn't a normal moment. I've lived in this neighborhood for six years and although the park posts hours, it never closes. I understood that if I lingered much longer, I risked becoming collateral damage. The ducks kept their silence, gliding stoically over increasingly obvious waves, their composure obscuring the frantic paddling below the surface. I'll be back to the pond soon, probably tomorrow, when the time is right.
On my way home, I walked down Charles Street. Two blocks from home, a large truck, possibly an eighteen wheeler, came barreling down the middle of the road. I didn't get a good look, but the driver seemed to be a police officer, based on the reflective yellow I thought he was wearing. Moments later, I turned into a liquor store, and got the true 'word on the street' - apparently the police had information that suggested there could be violence in the area again tonight. Back out on the street, I realized that many of the windows left uncovered on Sunday were now boarded up. There were no cars parked along the sidewalks. My neighbors are not as willing to borrow against the future as they were on Sunday, or at the very least unwilling to put up the same collateral. The boards will come down and the cars will return, when the time is right.
And that's where we pick up the story, with me in front of the TV again, watching the news coverage between these paragraphs. My very certain guess is that nothing major will happen. If Sunday was an earthquake, then tonight will be an aftershock. On Sunday, thousands marched into town - tonight, hundreds marched. It's hard to tell what is going on near the State House, partly because the news keeps cutting to Brockton, where the police are out in force to face down a group much smaller than the one seen Sunday night in Boston. This is one of the many scenes that have become familiar viewing over the past few days - protesters threatening to become rioters, police threatening to become military, each side waiting for a sign from the other, willing to remain in place until they see a signal of change, waiting until the time is right.
These days, it's not an unfamiliar feeling. We've all been willing to remain in place until we've seen some signal of change. The government is leading the way. Over the past three months, they've met at that State House and worked tirelessly on a plan, collaborating with experts and community leaders throughout the pandemic. The centerpiece of the strategy is that nothing will reopen until there is evidence of change. Without evidence of change, no one in the State House will accept that things have gotten better. They understand in the context of the virus that it's not enough to just say things have changed, you need to see evidence of change. So why has it been so hard for so long to apply this same thinking to questions about social, class, and race issues? Why has it been so hard for so long to apply this same thinking to questions about the justice system? Surely, the time is right.
People have come out and shared their message all week. They have asked for change, pleaded for change, protested for change. We want equality from a society of inequality, so things must change. It's a difficult moment because some things cannot change during the course of one protest, or one week of protests. Some things will change after a lifetime of protests. Some things, like the fact that George Floyd died after being tortured on America's streets, will never change. But what can change needs to change, and no matter how long change takes, the first step is evidence of change. What I see now on the screen and what I've seen over the past week is a mixed bag. In some moments, such as when police have joined kneeling protesters, there has been evidence of change. And in others, such as when police have used tear gas to scatter kneeling protesters, there has been evidence of no change. Though the moments of solidarity have been crucial, the ongoing indifference is more significant, and from these instances come the reinforced sentiment that as it relates to protesting, it's obvious that the time is right.
The one thing sure to change is the outward passion and energy of everyone protesting for George Floyd. There is evidence of that already in how the numbers have changed after each community's initial protests. There is evidence that most cities and towns seem to have reached their peak in terms of total public protesters. Some protesters will redirect their efforts to civic commitments, others will work through social circles or community programs. Some will remain on the streets and continue to speak out, others will simply move on to something else. Soon, on the surface all will appear calm. But underneath will remain all that churning energy, hidden by the steady hands, the turbulent energy that maintains the status quo always just out of sight, always just preventing change. No affordable healthcare, widespread poverty, underfunded public schools, overcrowded prisons, rigged application processes, casual stereotyping, all of it and more propping up the stoic facade of order and justice in a society of inequality. The specific protests for each and every one of these issues will come when the time is right.
But for many of us, the very act of public protest feels out of reach. We may not live in a city, or may fear for our safety. We may hate crowds, or sense no connection to the message. We may feel that protest is ineffective or even counterproductive. But for each and every one of us, there is an arena where we can fight inequality. Some have found their calling in this moment, and will continue to fight in George Floyd's name long after others have gone home. The rest of us must remember to keep looking for our arena. There is no fight too small in the battle for equality. It can happen at work, at school, or in the community. It can happen tomorrow in a peaceful crowd or next month in an individual crusade. It can happen wherever you see inequality, and can become the evidence of change. It must keep happening, this fight for change and equality, because so long as inequality exists, the time is right now.
