Victoria Platonov
Staff Writer
Two months ago, my life took an unexpected and terrifyingly quick turn. I was a normal teenager with normal priorities, goals and aspirations. My days were filled with studying, going to school and hanging out with my friends occasionally. And although I forget a lot of things, I will never forget the day my life changed forever and I will never forget what happened after it.
It was a Friday. I decided to miss a day of school due to needing a break. Afterall, it was a normal day and I had so many more ahead of me, one missed day wouldn’t kill me and I could really use it. Little did I know that would be the last day of my freshman year and the last day anything would be normal again. Later in the day, I had learned that school was being shut down for two weeks. Days went by, students and teachers anticipated the day everything would be back to normal, wondering when this whole mess would go away, being certain it would be short-lived and gone in two weeks. A few weeks later, school shut down for good this time and panic struck America. Malls, beaches, restaurants and businesses following soon after, closing until it was over. My life became boring, depressing and socially isolating. The economy was crashing, people lost money and jobs, people lost loved-ones and once-in-a-life-time events. The class of 2020 would not have a proper graduation; some schools cancelling completely, people would not get married and some people would not see their family members ever again. It felt like the world was falling apart. Days blended together, my life seemingly becoming a sad repetitive routine. I was scared and I knew everyone else was scared too.
A few weeks later, things seemed to mildly calm down. It seemed like things were bound to go back to normal eventually, even if it took months. Countries, corporations and billionaires started to invest money into COVID-19 vaccine trials and therapies, beaches in Florida reopened, restaurants stationing social distancing guide lines on fogged windows, pasting drive-through food service signs not too far from the previous ones. As things got better, so did everyone else. For a while I was content with how things were going, how I could remember what day of the week it was, how I had so much motivation to do the things I loved. Even though people were in a bad situation, people were optimistically looking at the positive outcomes. This pandemic has ruined someone’s summer, graduation, vacation, business, and life seemingly out of nowhere. However, what many did not see was how united this situation has made us: doctors helping others, essential workers working hard, journalists slaving away and making sure they captured and published any and every new update. It seemed like everyone was doing their part in the face of one common struggle. For just a while we were united, for just a while we were in the same ugly mess together; it was so beautiful.
“Every good thing must come to an end,” my father used to tell me, reassuring me on whatever subject might upset an 8-year-old. Those words stuck with me. Throughout my childhood years I would remind myself that no matter how good or okay things are going, life will always find a way to surprise you. It may seem sad, but it’s much more than that. Things will always keep happening, good or bad, that’s just the way life is and it’s just the way it works. Every event is a random roll of dice, this one just happened to be bad.
And although the Coronavirus was a terrible thing. Staying at home, taking care of others and having a nation share a common situation was not so much of a terrible thing. Yet after everything, I could have never anticipated how bad things were going to get. I would have never thought things would fall apart this much. I would have never known things were going to get quite possibly the worse they can be. And even through all the terror and fear of a current deadly plague, none of it will ever compare to what happened in the past few weeks. It was certainly much worse than anyone had expected.
George Floyd was 46 when his life was brutally taken by a police officer. He was known as a father, referred to as “a gentle giant” by Minneapolis locals. For about eight minutes and 46 seconds, a white police officer pressed his left knee into Floyd’s neck, crushing his face into the street and killing him.
“I can’t breathe” Floyd says, “please, please please.” Officer Derek Chauvin was charged with third-degree murder and second-degree manslaughter; initially he was only fired, despite having 10 other racial complaints leveled against him in the past. A racial injustice was done and people were not okay with it. The Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison upgraded Chauvin’s charges to second-degree murder.
To say that people were upset is an understatement. People were furious, angered at the racially charged crime, angry that a black man died at the hands of a white police officer, and angry that he was only fired. Social media was flooded with remembrances of Floyd and angry posts towards Chauvin. It seemed that all of social media was taken over by vexation towards a brutal act of injustice. Fear and rage sparked a new movement, it sparked a rebellion. It had sparked a revolution—one which will go down in history and change America forever.
Peaceful protests swept across city streets: “I can’t breathe” was boldly painted on cardboard signs, fists of every color were held high in the air, marching ahead. Police officers were blamed for the continuous strings of racial injustices. We were not united anymore. Instead, riots broke out, buildings were being burned, people were being killed and incarcerated. Teargas, blood and rubber bullets were on the hands of millions of officers nationwide throughout crowded city streets. Shops were being looted, police radios were being hacked, people uniting and joining an ever-growing movement.
Unity is a lot scarier when there is injustice, when it is violent. It was not heart-warming this time. It was not a nice thought this time. It was loud, scary, threatening and expanding by every minute. No longer were people peacefully protesting, people were rioting. Talk about anarchy and overthrowing the government was in the air, so present you could feel it. It was like everyone knew, like everyone was angry except for police.
Two days after the riots first started, I saw a police officer in public. I knew he knew how much his existence was hated, and how other people knew too. Other people were staring with me, angrily, disapprovingly. I could feel how uneasy the cop felt through his neutral expression. I knew he was thinking and I knew he was scared. I noticed his facial expression tighten, a pleading look in his eyes. Maybe it really isn’t all police after all, but the human expression only lasted a second. His face was slicked back to his previous serious expression, attempting to hide the tension. Not even power can mask decades worth of oppression.
When you give power to bad people, they feed off of it, they know how much they can get away with and they know how important power is in a democracy like America. Sure, not all cops are bad, but not all cops are exactly good either. Perhaps the oppressors are always those in power, but not all those in power are oppressors. And although not all cops are power hungry, all cops have power. All cops are cops, and all cops have the upper hand, favored by the government.
Here we are—when the roles have switched and people have thrown power out of the window. Without striking fear, they are powerless. And without striking fear, there is no government and with that there is anarchy. People are scared of what America has become and people are angry at what it has failed to achieve. But only now can I confidently say we are not in this together. We are not all struggling and experiencing the same pain because America has once again become divided. America has officially had enough. Who knows how much darker this can get, who knows who else will join the movement and where it will take us. One thing I do know is that what happened to George was wrong.
Rest in peace George Floyd, and may everyone remember your name forever, may everyone remember the horrible act that was committed on May 25. And with that, may everyone remember the life that was taken from you by a racist oppressor, a police officer. Because I know I will.
