Reflections on the anger our peaceful act provoked

I began a summer internship at the Valley Stream Herald last week, one month before I start my sophomore year at South High School. As I was brought up to speed on recent coverage, I noticed one article that caused some controversy: The Black Lives Matter march that took place in July. Reading some of the online reactions to the demonstration was startling because I was there.

My mother is Mexican and my father is Taiwanese. Racism was only ever something I saw on the news, as I’ve been sheltered from it in my diverse town. Donald Trump’s rants against Mexicans have brought me great anger, but the only racism I’ve personally dealt with has been subtle and probably subconscious on the part of the people doing it, and none of it ever happened in Valley Stream. I was shocked and outraged when I scrolled through the comments about the march on the Herald’s Facebook page:

“These protests gotta stop and now there [they’re] in Valley Stream.”

“A non sense social event…morons…”

“It just gives them an excuse to destroy and desecrate.”

“BLM is the black version of the KKK.”

“They just want their 15 min fame no call for this nonsense.”

“Trump will put an end to this [expletive] in January…”

That’s just a taste. I read all 75 comments and the replies to them. What had we done to get people so angry? Most of the comments came from people in my community, a place I had thought was exempt from what was going on in other parts of the country.

A few people defended us:

“Nice to see a teenager who could have been doing anything else on a summer day choosing to spend time organizing something for a cause she believes in. No matter where you stand on this issue that should be commended.”

“It was peaceful. I can’t believe what I’m reading.”

“Most of the people are commenting without reading the article.”

One comment stuck out to me: “Some people really believe racism and police brutality don’t exist, others are afraid to do anything about it and the rest fear what they don’t understand. The comments on this post showcase that.”

I hadn’t planned to attend the march. I learned of it as I scrolled through my Instagram feed the night before. I thought about showing up, but decided against it in favor of my plan for a Taco Bell run. I hit the “like” button to voice my digital support and didn’t think about it again.

When my friend picked me up the next day, he said, “So you know the Black Lives Matter march going on? Yeah, we’re going to that.” After 30 minutes of unsuccessfully looking for the meeting place around Central High School, we were walking back to our car when we spotted about 15 students in front of the school.

There wasn’t much energy in the beginning. Someone handed us a sign: BLACK LIVES MATTER. Seeing those three words written in marker across an orange background clarified why I was there and made me question why I had debated going. I believe that implicit bias leads to injustice in our justice system. I have a problem with the widespread perception that black males are dangerous, and how that affects how they are policed.

This was the first time most of us had participated in something like this. I looked around and I saw my peers, most of them a little older than I, most of them black, all of us wanting to have a voice but not sure how to find it.

A couple of car honks and smiles from passing drivers made us realize we were being noticed. We started marching back and forth in front of the school. Taylor, the organizer, led chants, and then asked for volunteers to do it. We marched in silence when no one took leadership, but more people started them as the march progressed. More people joined us. Our chants got louder. Our voices went from monotonous to spirited. I felt a buzz in the air.

My friends and I left as the march reached Merrick Road. The group’s positive energy was climbing, and while I wish we had stayed, I feel lucky that I ended up being a part of it. I’d never felt the power of a peaceful protest.

We adolescents — people of this community — have thoughts and strong feelings about injustices we see in America. I didn’t like so many of the reactions to what we did, but a conversation was sparked. That matters. Conversation reveals different perspectives. That creates a potential for hearing each other that wouldn’t have existed otherwise. That creates a potential for empathy.

I see ever more names turning into hashtags. The more we see, the less each one means. It becomes routine. Hashtags fuel online conversations, but lives lost require more than that. My peers share posts they agree with, but when we support from a distance, our support has less effect than we want it to. I urge you, don’t let your words online stop there. If all the local people who support our message had shown up, how much bigger would the conversation be?

The diversity we have in Valley Stream is our greatest asset. Seeing the comments raging against our peaceful demonstration led me to one conclusion: We need more marches like this. Open up the conversations with your parents, friends, teachers and neighbors. This is a real issue for many members of our community and it demands our attention.