A message to law enforcement: You have a choice
“Freedom is not a state; it is an act.” Representative John Lewis
While watching federal paramilitaries assault protesters in Portland I was reminded of a similar time: the nation-wide rallies and marches against President Ronald Reagan’s devastating policies in Guatemala and other Central American countries.
In the 1980’s the Reagan administration circumvented Congress in order to provide military aid to the ruthless and illegitimate Guatemalan regime. During this deadly time tens of thousands of Guatemalan citizens were killed or “disappeared” by masked militias and death squads. The similarities to the anonymous enforcers in Portland sent a chill down my spine.
As Reagan’s administration ratcheted up military support, protests across the country grew larger and more boisterous. Then, as now, law enforcement would often hit back hard, at times brutalizing and beating peaceably assembled protesters.
In response Women Against Military Madness, a Minneapolis-based peace advocacy group, organized its membership to form a front line at future protests. We were to be a human buffer between the police and protesters, especially the young men whom were often the target of police violence. It was much like the contemporary Wall of Moms, although we did not wear an identifying color and there was no social media to amplify our efforts.
A protest was planned in downtown Minneapolis and though we were peaceful we practiced civil disobedience by occupying the street and blocking traffic. It wasn’t our first civil disobedience and the police were impatient and angry. As planned, the women created a front line, a human chain of non-violence resistance. The tension in the air was thick and alarming, a dark rage palpable.
Without warning officers began reaching past the line of women into the crowd and grabbing protesters who were catcalling, hauling them into the street and slamming them on to the ground to rough up, cuff, and arrest. I remember clearly how one of the young men lost his glasses as he was thrown down — they flew off his face due to the impact. Although I had protested before this was different. It was disturbing to see the visceral violence, unleashed and uncontrolled, up close.
All of the police in the line stood in the same stance, holding their batons in riot position, parallel to the ground, ready to hold back the un-moving line of protesters. The officers knew violence was happening right behind them, that their fellow officers were out of control, but none turned to look and no one tried to stop them.
I was standing next to a woman named Donna. We’d introduced ourselves as we took our positions at the beginning of the action. As we looked past the line of riot-geared officers to the beatings taking place in the street, we were frightened but resolute.
Suddenly the two officers directly across from me and Donna, took their batons and placed them slowly on the ground between us. Their message was clear: We will not participate in this violence. It was a powerful act of solidarity. We looked directly into each other’s eyes — a moment seared into my mind.
I long wondered how much grief they took for that simple act, how much abuse, perhaps even formal sanction. At that time, and in that moment, they were incredibly courageous. Some might argue that they should have tried to stop the violence happening behind them, but it would have come to no avail. Looking back I believe they did the most powerful and honest thing they could amidst the chaos and cacophony — and I will never, ever, forget them.
It bears noting as we discuss police reform and the need for more diversity in law enforcement that one officer was a woman, the other a Hispanic man.
I share this story as the nation watches anonymous federal paramilitaries brutalize protesters in Portland. I share this story because a Minneapolis police officer believed he could casually murder a Black man with no consequence. And I share this story because this corrupt administration will likely be sending more of these brutal enforcers into our communities, hoping to wreak havoc and division in the run-up to the 2020 election.
Community-based protests will continue, led by groups like Black Lives Matter and supported by the Wall of Moms, leaf blowing dads, military veterans, and others heading to the streets in solidarity.
The men and women who have taken an oath to protect and serve, or to defend our Constitution, have a choice to make: Will you participate in beatings, brutality and state sanctioned violence? Or will you stand with your fellow citizens as we march for equity, historical honesty, and the sanctity of Black and Brown lives?
It is always possible to put your weapons down.
Written in honor of Rep. John Lewis on the day of his funeral, July 30, 2020. He left us this message before his passing:
“Though I may not be here with you, I urge you to answer the highest calling of your heart and stand up for what you truly believe. In my life I have done all I can to demonstrate that the way of peace, the way of love and nonviolence is the more excellent way. Now it is your turn to let freedom ring.”
Camille Gage is an artist, writer and activist from Minneapolis, MN
