A Harsh Reality: The Hidden Side of American Youth
Ava Saunders
Police brutality against African Americans has always been a major issue in the United States, but the death of George Floyd brought a new focus to the problem. Floyd was arrested outside a shop in Minneapolis by officer Derek Chauvin. Floyd -- a black man -- was murdered when Chauvin forced him to the ground and knelt on his neck for seven minutes, despite Floyd’s repeated cries of “I can't breathe.” Chauvin was assisted by three other officers, all of whom were complicit in the murder. After days of protests, Chauvin was charged with a lesser sentence of 3rd-degree murder (the maximum prison time for this sentence is twenty years). Floyd’s death, and the absence of justice surrounding it, incited riots and sparked outrage in communities everywhere — even in the predominantly white conservative suburbs of Chicago where I live.
As a fifteen-year-old white female from an upper-class suburb, most of my experiences with racism have been through textbooks and history lessons. In the past week, however, I was shocked at the number of social media posts concerning racism, police brutality, and the Black Lives Matter movement. These are topics that the students at my mostly-white private high school rarely discuss, and there was an obvious disconnect in the minds of my peers. Most of them were new to these themes. People who wear “Make America Great Again” hats to school sports games are suddenly preaching messages of unity and justice. The people who have always been vocal about their support of our current POTUS, even when the president’s views directly contradict those themes of unity and justice (which includes Trump’s history of racist tweets and remarks), did not understand their blatant hypocrisy of spreading anti-racist messages on social media, while simultaneously supporting the man who has caused so much anger and hatred. The real issue was left unrecognized. This opened my eyes to the true nature of my community.
Prejudiced undertones have always been present at my school: slurs and offensive jokes are casually thrown around by students, though the administration tries its best to prevent them. Most times this is kept at a minimum, but certain events push these undertones into the limelight.
I first became aware of the full extent of closed-mindedness at a school pep rally. In an attempt to raise money for the school, a well-known conservative teacher mockingly held up a picture of Senator Bernie Sanders, while the majority of the student body booed and laughed. No one saw a problem with this. This is the nature of most Chicago suburbs and wealthy places in general.
When the now-infamous “Muslim Ban” was a trending topic, these same teens were mostly silent. They were also silent when children fleeing their violent home countries were put in cages at our southern border and during the destruction of DACA (the “Dreamer Act”). For some reason, George Floyd’s violent murder at the hands of the police touched the hearts of these kids, and they were genuinely moved to at least post their support, if not to march.
Most of them went quiet again, however, when the riots hit Chicago. Protestors looted stores, and police responded with tear gas and other aggressive methods. The city clamped down, literally. Businesses closed and the entire city was placed under a 9 PM curfew. Days later, protests spread outside the city. Though most protests were peaceful and nonviolent, some were not. Oak Park and River Forest High School, the public school down the street from my own, was looted. So were restaurants and stores. Most towns -- including my upper-class hometown of Wheaton, Illinois -- completely closed down. Major roads closed due to protests, and the positive posts that had been flooding my social media soon dried up. Everyone returned to their roots.
Peaceful protests can be ignored by the political majority while violent riots, even for a cause, cannot. The people of my community flipped back, and I saw many posts defending Trump’s tweets -- which included quotes like “when the looting starts the shooting starts” and references to the protestors (but not the police force brutalizing those protestors) as “thugs.” Even within my own extended family, the tragedy of Floyd’s death was quickly drowned out by the voices of conservatism. I saw a relative I love deeply so enthralled with his appreciation for Trump’s violent threats and actions that he ended his rant with enthusiastic chants of “Go Trump!” at the dinner table. Indeed, many of my classmates spoke out about the violent nature of the riots and called for an end to them. I even saw comments blasting rioters for “ruining our country.” Not internalized racism or the politics of hatred or an insane effort to “dominate” peaceful protestors. Not even COVID-19 “ruined” our country: the chaos was entirely the fault of people desperate to be heard about a cause that has plagued our country for generations. George Floyd’s murder is just the latest in a string of similar incidents, yet most of my suburban white community had already moved on. They are now calling for an end to the protests, not to injustice.
I think this is part of what the Black Lives Matter movement is referring to when they talk about systemic racism: this short-lived empathy for a murdered black man followed too quickly by the notion to “return to normal,” because that is the normal that works for white America. The short-lived empathy for the cause doesn’t fit into a textbook definition of “racist,” so Americans are missing the major reforms that our country needs in order to enact peaceful, long-lasting change. The steps to come are unclear, so everyone returns to their corners.
Except for this time. Instead of returning to their corners, the entire country rose to their feet and marched in the streets. I recently took part in a peaceful march against racism, centered in the nearby town of Glen Ellyn. Walking hand in hand with my community, I was inspired to think that maybe there is hope for change this time. Maybe, this time, a black man crushed beneath the weight of institutional racism won’t have died in vain.