By Isabel Oalican, Staff Editor
On Sunday, May 31, my brother and I biked to Nubian Square in downtown Boston, Massachusetts to participate in a Black Lives Matter protest. I was worried: the night before, I watched Minneapolis and Los Angeles explode and wondered if Boston, a city with a history of deeply ingrained racism, would have the same fate.
What I saw that day was the exact opposite. Protests showed absolute restraint and respect, and seeing as the protest began in Nubian Square—a historically Black neighborhood with a history of redlining—no one wanted to threaten the small Black-owned businesses which made up the surrounding community.
I will be highlighting what I saw at the protest because it was peaceful. However, I disagree with violent state actors like the police advocating for nonviolence in order to stifle real progress, and understand how many major protests have turned into riots because of justifiable anger and as an effective way to push for change.
What I observed on Sunday was a peaceful protest. Beginning in Nubian square, it continued to the hospital district, where crowds cheered for essential healthcare workers who stood in the windows, cheering back. At one point, I turned around to see an entire 20-floor hospital building filled with hospital workers looking down on us. The crowd began chanting “Thank you!” repeatedly until we entered Chinatown. I was calm at this point, understanding that the crowd—contrary to the media’s stereotypes—was not rioting or looting.
As we passed through Chinatown and Downtown Crossing, I became a little apprehensive. These are two particularly vulnerable parts of the city; Chinatown’s local businesses, particularly restaurants, were already under financial stress, and any physical damage to these businesses caused by looting would be devastating. In Downtown Crossing, the large, glass-fronted department stores, including Macy’s, Target, Primark, and Jewelers’ Row, all stood filled with merchandise.
But absolutely nothing violent happened. At one point, I even saw protestors stop one young person who tried pulling on a storefront handle. Finally, as the crowds approached the statehouse, I came across a group of people dancing to drums and music. As the performance died down, everyone took a knee in a moment of silence to remember George Floyd and the countless other Black Americans who died in the face of systemic racism and injustice.
By the end of it, there were about ten minutes until curfew began, enforced by the police. This was just an excuse to arrest and harass innocent protestors, but I decided I had to leave before things got bad. I watched protestors push the barricade in front of the statehouse gates down as I mounted my bike, riding away in the opposite direction.
When I reached Downtown Crossing again, I heard a loud crash and a scream. Suddenly, a mass of bodies rushed towards me, running. My brother got on his bike in time to peddle away, but I didn’t have the space to turn mine around, so I picked it up and started running as fast as I could away from the commotion. When I got home, I learned that a police van parked in a main street where protestors were exiting had incited anger from them—and the police had responded with pepper spray balls and force. I was able to avoid the police shutting down public transportation to pepper spray and arrest protesters, but not everyone was so lucky. One of my friends was surrounded by a group of people and pepper sprayed just because they happened to be near the police van at the wrong time.
On the ride home, countless police cars sped past me towards downtown. I arrived home around 10 P.M. I was exhausted. On the news, reporters covered the looting and violence happening rather than the majority peaceful protest. I was angry to see how reporters contorted the broader movement, distracting viewers with looting instead of focusing on the actual messages behind the protests.
Back to back, my brother and I marched alongside thousands of others to reiterate what the countless deaths of Black Americans like George Floyd had taught us: enough is enough. If Bryn Mawr and Haverford students take anything away from these protests, it is to use whatever resources you must help this movement. According to Bryn Mawr and Haverford’s 2019–2020 Common Data Set, African-American students make up around 5% of the student body across both campuses. They should not have to lead most of the race work on campus. If you have not seriously thought about race in America yet, now is the time. Sign petitions, donate, and come to campus next fall ready to keep the movement alive.
Image credit: The Boston Calendar
