The Feeling of Community

Monday March 8th, 2021 was to be the first day of Derek Chauvin's trial for murdering George Floyd. It ended up being delayed by a day as the courts wrestled on a matter of how many charges he can face at one time. Regardless, the community showed up.

People in my house began rousing around 6:30 a.m., wiping sleep from their teenage eyes and dressing for the day. Breakfast was delivered by the boyfriend, bagels were munched down and we all piled into the car with signs in hands.

Downtown Minneapolis during the pandemic has a strange feel to it. No longer are there crowds of business men and women dressed in suits, ties or heels, waiting impatiently on corners for the light to change, checking their phones or talking into their Bluetooth devices. Parking spaces are available in every ramp at steep hourly prices since no one is parking in ramps all day right now. Breakfast spots that used to have lines of customers waiting for food are temporarily closed until employees return to downtown. The few people you see walking the streets are usually essential workers; postal carriers, delivery service people, cleaners. The working poor gather in doorways and corners, wondering what the day will bring them. 

We walked through blocks of this surreal downtown to reach the Minneapolis Government Center since the street in front of the center has been closed and the plaza surrounding it barricaded with fencing, concrete barriers and barbed wire. The flowers we had placed in the fencing the day before were still there. We looked to the left and there we found our people — hundreds of them. 

Our people were of every color, ethnicity and gender. They held signs, wearing shirts from various previous events seeking justice; "George Floyd Changed the World," "Native Lives Matter," "Justice Delayed Is Justice Denied," and many more. 

We walked around a bit to get a sense of the space. We checked out the t-shirt vendor selling "Black Lives Matter" t-shirts, bumper stickers, hats and other items. We found the People's Revolution van, a business sprung up from the protests of the past year that provides mobile AV support for marches such as this one. We read the massive banner that marked where the front of the crowd was, then took our place several feet behind it. 

The first speaker began with "Good morning! I am so happy to see all of you here, my community, my friends." And we, four middle-class white people, felt like we belonged. We could sense the people around us smiling, crinkles at people's eyes giving away the smiles behind their masks. 

The words from the microphone bounced off the empty buildings around us. Native dancers performed a traditional dance in front of the banner, the accompanying drums booming from the towers around us. The chants of the people reverberated back to us from the buildings' heights. 

The buildings around us created an echo chamber of sound.

Cries for justice resounded through downtown Minneapolis. The court must listen. The world is watching.