“Now ain’t the time for talking to media,” a young man named D or “Big 20” said when asked to be interviewed.
“We need to use our voices for justice.”
At first sight, D would have been stereotyped a thug. He had tattoos all over his body – including his face. He had t-shirt fashioned into a bandana across his head with the acronym “GIBAM.”
The letters are short for “Get It By Any Means.” “It” refers to justice for the unarmed teen who was gunned down two blocks from where he was fervently protesting three weeks ago.
“Aye, anybody not hear for Michael Brown need to leave. Flatout,” D said.
He was a part a small, passionate group of young people who had joined the National March on Ferguson.
They were the minority among the group that included all walks of life, gender, and ethnicity and represented a host of organizations – from NAACP to The Urban League.
Though small in numbers, the big voices of GIBAM threatened to interrupt the more subdued group – that would ultimately grow to thousands – who stood ready to march for the National March on Ferguson.
As the main group chanted, GIBAM attempted to chant louder with their own slogans –mostly “Hands Up, Don’t Shoot.”
D was a member of the core group of young people who first drew attention to Ferguson, and now they seemed to be determined to make sure that their voices were heard as the masses gathered.
It was the “youth vs. elder” dynamic that has permeated – and somewhat fragmented – the movement to get justice for Michael Brown Jr. and his family.
But something exceptional happened at the National March on Ferguson.
By afternoon’s end, National March on Ferguson organizers Zaki Baruti and Anthony Shahid would give D and they others an opportunity to speak before the crowd after they march to an area park.
“We’ve been out here since day one peacefully protesting and they were throwing tear gas at us,” D, who later revealed his name was Dante, said. “All we tryin’ to do is get our voices heard. It hurt out here knowing that every day that you wake up, you might not see the next day because law enforcement is out to hurt you – out to kill you. It’s a brotherhood that they live in. We’ll be out here rain, sleet, snow or shine.”
Even as the rain came pouring down more than a thousand protesters marched through the rain to stand before the podium and hear Dante and a host of others speak.
Many of those who approached the outdoor stage area were unknown.
“My name is of no importance,” a woman said. She was flanked by two young girls.
“These are my two daughters,” the woman said. “I have two sons as well – their names are Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown. Don’t you know that the police are waging war against our sons? What do you think they are going to do when they are finished? I’ll tell you – they are going to start waging war on our daughters. So, I’ll call my daughters Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown too – because if we don’t continue to stand and fight for justice, they will be next.”
Michael Brown Sr. and Lesley McSpadden stood before the crowd called for Gov. Nixon to remove St. Louis County Prosecuting Attorney Bob McCulloch from the case surrounding their son’s death.
Others called for economic boycotts and demanded that dollars be spent within the black community.
Baruti challenged the crowd to stay committed and on task as they gathered at the site where Michael Brown Jr. was fatally shot by Ferguson police officer Darren Wilson.
“Enough is enough,” Baruti said. “It might not happen in one day, one month or even one year – but we have to keep fighting until this family sees justice.”
Angel Davey Taylor has been on the frontlines of the protest since the beginning and is determined to do exactly that.
“A lot of people say that what we’re doing won’t make a difference. I don’t believe that,” Davey Taylor said. “I feel like I matter. The world is watching what’s going on – and while these reporters are pontificating and lying I’m here to tell the truth because I’m out here every day.
The biggest discrepancy is that we are looters – no. We have registered so many young kids to vote. We have seen gang members from opposing gangs walk down the street together trying to get justice. We are creating a community. I’ve met people on my journey in Ferguson that I wouldn’t have met under any other circumstances. It has changed my life.
People think St. Louis is this hood town, but we’ve shown that we are a voice – and we have allowed ourselves to become one voice that can be heard across the world.
If that alone doesn’t make you proud to be a St. Louisan, I don’t know what does.”
