#Ferguson Reflections: Privilege, Protest, and Place

This post is part of the Ferguson Reflection: One Year Later series. If you have a reflection on Ferguson, please share it with us at rhetoricraceandreligion@gmail.com

I recently joined an “action” on the streets with several UMC pastors & friends of the UMC called for by a local pastor. I joined by invitation as I was on my way back to St. Louis for an event we’re doing this weekend (also by invitation). I, personally, don’t do travel activism as a rule. I figure wherever I live there’s a Ferguson. I mean, I currently live in Ohio. Ponder THAT. Tamir Rice. John Crawford. Sam DuBose. Timothy Russell. Malissa Williams. The Columbus police department. I. LIVE. IN. OHIO.

But I joined the action on the streets because 1) I was here; 2) I was asked; and 3) I am compelled. I have loving ties to this community, so I never feel like an “outside agitator,” only an agitator.

I wore a collar last night to be readily identifiable as clergy. I had to BUY it because I actually didn’t own one. It afforded me to have some very specific conversations with daily protesters about preachers. They were not pretty, as well as they should not have been. “Where the F*ck was these [specific] preachers on Monday when we were getting tear gassed and arrested???!!???” “Oh, they out here trying to teach us how to protest ‘between’ the lines, right? F*ck that!” “They’ll be gone as soon as the cameras are gone; then the cops will light us up. But the preachers won’t be here to see that! They’ll feel good about themselves, though, right? F*CK THAT!!!” “See, they over there ‘talking to the police,’ trying to make sure the police know they ain’t out here against them! Well, if they ain’t against the police, they against us!”

There was more. But you get the point. My first reaction: defensiveness. That’s my confession. And to defend. I wanted them to “appreciate” that they were there now. I “explained” that I didn’t live here, but I care. But then I stopped and just listened, even though I was still smarting from it. I’m not from St. Louis County, but every time I’ve come, I can feel the utter and understandable rage of weariness of this apartheid state. AND. IT. IS. APARTHEID. And terror. And harassment. Policing agencies and arms of the government here break law with impunity. They smirk at the citizenry because they know they have the white money power base on their side… they MIGHT get a “scathing” report written on them, but in 365+ days, little has changed. So, nightly protesters who see tourist protesters or “memorial” protesters (“Mike Brown Week is over; y’all can go home now”) have a point. They face the brutality, terror, and unjust policing DAILY. EVERY. DAMN. DAY. We get to go home.

I had street “creds” in Austin, TX and in Memphis, TN. I never became an activist in Lancaster, PA, as I was battling my personal need to survive. I haven’t gotten completely plugged in to Delaware and Franklin Counties in Ohio, but I will. And I’ll develop street credibility there. But I have no street credibility in Ferguson/St. Louis County, even though I have relationships with some of its leading activists. That said, I won’t quit coming by invitation. But I am very clear: I. get. to. go. home. Therefore, I don’t get to be defensive when those being regularly brutalized give me and those like me the side-eye.

I’ve had several conversations in the past week with people about “place in the movement.” I’m aware that one of the biggest issues for me has been to know when to follow and when to lead. That is a real thing to know. Last night, I led in prayer in the church and followed on the streets. I didn’t lead a chant because those people didn’t know me as a “voice.” I led song and prayer because people (in church) know me as ritualist/worship leader. Another way of saying that is: “I stayed in my lane.”

But I’m going to go home because I teach at Methodist Theological School in Ohio. I teach among some really committed justice-oriented activist educators (I’m looking at you Randy, Denise, Yvonne, Lisa, Tim, et al). I’m trying to figure out how to rearrange my courses. I always teach for primarily transformation; information can be found. I want deeper engagement rather than wider “facts.” But that’s just me.

That said, I’m thinking about conversations with Keith Crawford (John Crawford’s cousin and the son who adopted me as ma) and Candace Yonina Simpson (the niece I adopted). Keith said, “traveling to protest is a privilege.” RIGHT. Everyone can’t put the trip on a credit card or raise the funds among friends or get their institution to pay for it, all things I’ve been privileged to do. And, everyone can’t be in the streets for a variety of reasons, as niecey and I have been discussing for a couple of weeks. BUT (and as my mama–may she rest in peace–would say, that’s a BIG BUT), everyone can be about freedom. And everyone can play a part.

I’m thankful for the people who work their government job (trap) and give to defense funds, food funds, and bail funds. We need us to keep our jobs and to continue to rearrange our finances so we can continue to give.

I’m thankful for the older/elder siblings who can’t “march all night long,” but who give, pray, cook, and rub your hands and look in your eyes when you return from the streets. As my niece said, some people don’t have those “old folks” in their lives and that’s a place in the movement where we can create that space–I mean, in Austin they paired toddlers with elder care and it blessed them both. Movement and coalition building is necessary.

I’m thankful for white freedom fighters (I have come to eschew the word “ally”) who lead the way to break through an unlawful barrier put up to stop black and brown protesters. These sibs are risking white power, white privilege, jobs, careers, and inheritances. They get called all kind of nigger lovers. So, cookies for all of you who don’t need cookies to stay in the fight.

I’m thankful for the sibs who babysit for those who feel compelled to be in the streets and don’t charge as they keep the children of freedom fighters.

I’m glad for attorneys who work hard for this movement at EVERY level.

I’m glad for (yes) life-time and paid activists who have been freed from other work in order to work against death-dealing structures on all our behalves. Scoffing those who get paid does little. They have access and know how to use it. They may very well be the “insider” who help get us all free, especially as they check constantly whether and how they are being co-opted.

I’m glad for 1950s and 1960s+ era activists who still fight this battle. They/we started when in our teens and 20s and are still at it. Or, as someone said to me yesterday, “You might not want to throw away even Al Sharpton. You might need his platforms and access for the movement.” Think. About. That. We deserve respect and, yes, voice, even if we’re not going to use old tactics. We didn’t get this old and these battle scars and not learn anything. I promise (that said, every current leader who knows me knows I don’t give unsolicited advise; hell, my birth children can tell you that).

I’m glad for those activists, who are not in the streets, but are working on policy making and community building in other ways.

I’m glad for those who aren’t in the streets, but giving money to create jobs and spaces to try to dismantle these apartheid places (but really, America has a PROBLEM and that’s another issue).

I’m glad for scholars who are transforming people who are transforming streets.

I’m glad for activists who’ve NEVER completed school, but are working to liberate a nation.

Charisse R. Tucker, your reflection helped me.

I’m not going to throw ANYBODY under the bus. That doesn’t mean we don’t get to assess what’s helpful and life-giving. But really, those of us with the “privilege” to take our marbles and go home (I’m talking to me, now) have to really consider what we’re about.

Breathing. Checking myself. Appreciating the movement.

In it. All. the. way.

Rev. Dr. Valerie Bridgeman currently serves as Associate Professor of Homiletics and Hebrew Bible at Methodist Theological School in Ohio. She is also Founder and President of Woman Preach! Inc.