For The Capitol, For The People?

The fourth of July.  Historically, a day of celebration for America.  Our nation’s independence was awarded this day in the year 1776.  Independence for white males, that is.  Typically I would have been enjoying this holiday poolside, reveling in the joy and laughter of family and friends.  Grilling burgers and hotdogs, lighting sparklers with my children and hoping for a spectacular firework display amidst a moonlit sky.  This year was different.

This year I found myself at the legislative complex, listening to victims’ names being called out from a microphone.  Reading signs held high with “BLM”  written in bold, black letters and pleas to end the oppression and violence.  Watching the people of my city gather and take a knee in a moment of silence to honor lives lost to police brutality.  Following the march from Bicentennial Park to Dr. Martin Luther King Blvd. the crowd moved to The People’s Plaza.  Jazz was being played at the foot of the steps to the Capitol and people were dancing in the streets.  Flags were flying, tambourines clanging, drums pounding and chants for freedom echoed around.  

It was a surreal experience for me.  Being only my second protest, I wasn’t sure what to expect.  I met my daughter and her friend curb side.  We were right next to the musicians playing in protest and support.  My body swayed to the music.  My eyes welled with tears.  What a beautiful display of community rallying towards a common cause.  A worthy cause.  And I was there; Witnessing the love, feeling the energy reverberate through my body and all at once feeling dumbfounded as to why our Governor has not addressed the people.  

For twenty five days now The People have been occupying the area known as the legislative complex.  For twenty five days they have been peacefully protesting.  For twenty five days they have asked to speak with Governor Lee.  And for twenty five days they have been ignored.  Ignored by a man who was voted into office by the people.  A man who pledged to serve those people.  ALL the people of Tennessee.  

The Legislative Plaza (also referred to as the People’s Plaza) is located on my walking route.  I see their faces regularly.  The signs and chairs are positioned to be visible to the traffic passing by and the looming state troopers.  Those state troopers with their foreboding guns and military style gear, guarding the Capital.  Guarding a space and building created for the people of Tennessee.  A public space, open to the people and actually paid for by the people.  Those state troopers that advanced upon the peaceful protestors and began aggressive tactics without cause.  I was there.  I saw it happen.  

I stood behind my daughter as she and other activists sat, arms linked, waiting.  A ten minute warning was given, advising the people to disperse and not even sixty seconds later troopers started their campaign.  I took my daughter’s phone and stepped back as people crowded in front of me.  Trying their best to protect themselves and those around them.  United in cause and purpose.  My daughter turned and gave me a thumbs up.  And then I started to shake.  I typed a quick message to my husband, waiting below.  Unsure of where this would go I walked down the steps to fill him in.  And then I stood, on a cement block scanning the crowd for her face.  No luck.  I ran to the other side and pushed my way closer.  No luck.  Not one person saw her, or could tell me where she was or what happened.  I knew then that she was arrested.  My entire being shook.  Now what?  

Now what, was more rhetorical than anything else because I knew.  Everything within me filled with fear for her life and safety.  All at once I felt incredibly proud and awestruck at her commitment, her willingness to practice her rights as a citizen of this country and the length to which she would go in fighting for equality and justice for all those that look like her.  You see, she is a black woman.  Her being taken into custody holds a weight that is not known to me.  Far outside of my scope of understanding.  Yet, she went.  Peacefully and in full cooperation.  And me, well I stood helplessly.

Dumbfounded and uncertain as to what the next steps would be for her and the other fifty five that were arrested I searched to find a legal advisor amongst the protestors.  Thankfully they were visible by the fluorescent tape on their hats.  When I found one, she informed me of the protocol from the arrests on July 3rd.  That was all she had to offer. 

It was in that moment that I had the sinking and regrettable feeling that I should have remained on the steps with my daughter.  Stood in front of her.  Been a protector of those that were willing to enter the very system they were fighting against.  And why didn’t I?  I don’t know.  I have been asking myself that question since Saturday night.  

I walked, with my husband, to the Hill Detention Center, which is where the previous night’s arrestees were taken and processed.  To no avail.  At this point, we weren’t sure what could be done.  We went home, made some phone calls and picked up our vehicle.  I’d like to pause here and say, this was a new situation for us.  Uncharted waters.  All I knew was that my baby girl was with state troopers, not knowing what was going to happen next.  

Come to find out she was confident in her decision to remain on the steps.  Not deterred one iota by the impending force of uniforms glaring at her.  Solidarity was the theme that night.  She would not be discouraged.  She is not discouraged.  But the fight continues.  The requests  have been made and for twenty five days, ignored.

Tuesday morning and I am still in shock.  In dismay.  Still sorting through and processing the details.  For instance, how was it that on Monday morning I sat on those same steps, unbothered and free, when just two nights prior arrests were being made?  Arresting the people in which the capital was built for.  Zip ties tightened around the wrists of the constituents that were standing in a public space, made temporarily off limits by the Lee administration.  And for what?

Now its Wednesday and the Capitol building has been opened.  There are troopers guarding the entrance and I stopped to ask where the protestors were.  Captain Fyke responded confidently that the “homeless camp” (his words) was disbanded early this morning, 1:30am to be exact.  “They’ve cleaned up the place” and since the protestors are no longer present it is now acceptable to swing the doors open.  When asked if the capital grounds are open he said yes, daily from 8am -11pm up to the grass and including the monuments.  Really? 

I implore you, citizens of Nashville, to take notice.  For all you independence loving individuals, how can you accept a militarized police force that can be dispatched at the Governor's command?  For Governor Lee, is it truly better for the people of Tennessee, to deploy your army of State Troopers and arrest people for "trespassing" on public property rather than listen to the legitimate concerns of your constituents?