BLM Movement: Why We Stand Together

Aly Lee

When the Black Lives Matter movement began to take over the news cycle with the most recent police brutality murders, dominating current social culture and overtaking the media’s presence, I had no idea what to say. So I said nothing. 

Some part of me was stuck in the mindset that this did not involve me. Events like this had come and gone in the past, and I was honestly just confused for a while. I didn't mean to ignore the issue, but hours slipped into days, and I remained quiet.

Performative activism was another fear that plagued my mind and prevented me from speaking out in the initial days. It seemed that no matter what a person did or did not say, ridicule and judgment was passed on all social media platforms. I heard of friends being called out for reposting too many informative graphics on their Instagram stories, deeming them insincere and spamming. I heard the same friends later scorned for their lack of action once they stopped posting, calling upon the “silence is choosing the side of the oppressor” argument. 

I saw both sides and understood both points. How was it possible to find that balance between overbearingly fake and underwhelmingly silent? 

I knew my answer once I realized that my focus had shifted onto social perception rather than actually doing my part in helping eradicate the systematic oppression of an entire race. By trying so hard to avoid public scrutiny, I had allowed myself to fall silent, caught between action and inaction. It was worse than simply choosing inactivity because it was being too timid to even pick a side. 

Upon this realization, I vowed to do better. I had always considered myself the kind of person who would speak up for those struggling to support their own voice, and now I finally had the chance. 

I actively began to seek out information to educate myself, using my social media platforms to repost relevant articles or posts. I stopped checking who viewed my stories because that didn’t matter nearly as much as the fact that people were viewing it, sparking conversation and hopefully progressing towards a more well-informed public. I sat down with my family at dinner and had long but important discussions, breaching the seemingly untouchable topic of racism within our country and proposing how we could do better as a family. So many small internalized habits or biases we form throughout our lives stick with us, even when we feel as though we are not being actively racist. We weren’t quite sure what the solution to this deep-rooted issue was, but just talking about it was certainly a place to start. We made plans to attend a local protest the following day.

Attending the relatively small yet strong protest was my first taste of real activism. Seeing my neighbors and complete strangers around me with their crudely made cardboard signs and hoarse voices was a shock. I never expected to feel like a part of this cause I had unintentionally attempted to distance myself from in the initial days. But screaming and shouting and waving on the four street corners of a busy intersection felt right.

So we went to another protest. This one was the real deal. It was in the heart of downtown San Diego, and I was later informed that upwards of 3,000 people showed up. This time we actually marched through the streets, masks drenched in sweat stuck to our faces, a nod to the unfavorable situation, but proof we stood together nonetheless. It was exhausting and stretched for hours and miles, but every step uphill still felt like a step forward. The first of many, hopefully.

From my limited lens of the subject, I knew the ways I could contribute to the movement would look different than my neighbor’s. That’s because each person’s specific circumstances and state of privilege decides the level of social activity they may partake in, not the degree of effort they seem to have made nor the amount of “likes” a post receives. 

I evaluated the influence I held in my own life, both over myself and others. I took those positions into account and formulated a plan of action that enabled me to take advantage of my resources and encourage others to do so as well. As the treasurer of my high school’s Key Club and a Fundraising Coordinator on the division leadership team, I knew I had the contacts and abilities to put together a widespread effort. 

The next step was picking a fundraiser idea. In times of quarantine and social distancing, finding ways to raise the money required some creative solutions. Many restaurants were hesitant to offer donations or partial funds, especially in the tumultuous economy, so the best option was to turn back to the old-fashioned selling of items. 

I didn’t have much experience in regards to business, but I knew how to make friendship bracelets out of string. It wasn’t much, but it was a simple craft that with a bit of tweaking and color scheming, became a symbol of unifying strength within a growing movement. 

We began selling these bracelets for $4 each, with the promise of donating 100% of the proceeds to the official Black Lives Matter online fund. I wasn’t sure how much it would matter or if it would even take off, but I knew I had to try. I owed it to those suffering through struggles I would never, ever have to recognize simply because of the color of my skin. 

So far, we’ve received over $300 pledged from the bracelet fundraiser. It’s been so endlessly inspiring to see how a community comes together once a call for action has been made because, at the end of the day, it’s all the same fight. We look beyond our pasts, biases, and even ourselves, in order to stand by those who need it most. Because we all bleed the same color and deserve the same rights. Because decades upon decades of unjustified oppression is not who we are. Because we are all Americans, and we stand together.

Note: If you are interested in supporting the Key Club Bracelets for BLM fundraiser, you can find out more information on the @wvkeyclub Instagram, or place an order at https://forms.gle/GgBAHYSv5yU8suse8