At Church Rally, Community Pours out Support for Michael Brown’s Family

by | Aug 18, 2014 | Headline News |

Healing, activism promised at Sunday services

Activist and television show host Rev. Al Sharpton speaks at Greater Grace Church in Florissant on Sunday (Aug. 17), during a rally for justice for an unarmed teen shot by Darren Wilson, a Ferguson police officer. Protests and anger have broken out in the Ferguson Community since Michael Brown, an unarmed teen, was shot by Ferguson police officer Darren Wilson last Saturday. (Photo Credit: Christian Gooden, courtesy of St. Louis Post-Dispatch)

FERGUSON, Mo. (RNS)  Civil rights leader the Rev. Al Sharpton told a packed church on Sunday (Aug. 17) that the Michael Brown case would mark a defining moment in civil rights history and fundamentally change the way police engage with the African-American community.

“Michael Brown is going to change this town,” Sharpton said to a massive, boisterous crowd that clapped and shouted in response.

Hundreds filled the pews of Greater Grace Church. More crowded into the foyer, and hundreds remained on the parking lot unable to enter, all in a show of support for the African-American teenager who was shot by a police officer on Aug. 9.

Sharpton announced a future march in Washington on policing. He criticized the militarization of police, saying they act as if they are “at war with … citizens.” Sharpton urged the crowd to start showing up at the polls to vote and make a difference in the lives of African-Americans.

“Nobody can go to the White House unless they stop by our house,” Sharpton said. “We’ll be here until justice is achieved.”

In addition to Sharpton, Capt. Ronald S. Johnson of the Missouri Highway Patrol, who took over the police security patrol in Ferguson last week, was on hand to offer support to Brown’s family, as was U.S. Rep. William Lacy Clay, D-St. Louis.

“I want you to know these parents are not going to cry alone, they’re not going to stand alone,” Sharpton said, referring to Brown’s parents, who were also at the church. “We’ve had enough.”

Benjamin Crump, the Brown family’s lawyer, also took the stage.

“We’re here to talk about justice,” said Crump. “We’re here to stand up for our children, because if we don’t stand up for our children, nobody will stand up for our children. They just want what anyone else would want if their child was shot in broad daylight,” he said.

When Johnson of the Highway Patrol spoke he compared Brown to his own son.

“When this is over I’m going to go into my son’s room, my black son, who wears his pants sagging, wears his hat cocked to the side, got tattoos on his arms. But that’s my baby,” Johnson said. “Michael is going to make it better for our sons, so they can be better men.”

Crump told supporters not to lose focus amid news that Brown is alleged to have robbed a convenience store just before the shooting. He called the allegations an attempt to assassinate Brown’s character.

Sharpton first took the stage with the Brown family receiving a standing ovation. Brown’s mother, Lesley McSpadden, overwhelmed by the response, bowed her head, breaking down in tears.

As at previous forums, Sharpton urged demonstrators protesting Brown’s death to do so in a peaceful manner.

He also said Ferguson residents would take to the streets with bright yellow T-shirts, calling themselves “Disciples of Justice,” or DJs, to help contain any violence on the streets.

Sharpton announced a class-action lawsuit for demonstrators who had been victims of tear gas and other injuries at the hands of police, though he gave few specifics.

People turned out with families, babies in strollers and children on shoulders.

Laronda Hodges, 46, a counselor for St. Louis Public Schools, was outside the church with her husband and 13-year-old daughter. “I just want to be a part of making a difference,” Hodges said. Nothing seems to change, she added, pointing to discrepancies in pay, in positions, in elected offices.

One pocket of people huddled around a radio station van broadcasting what was being said inside the church.

But not everyone was happy with Sharpton’s speech.

“He always wants to hush us without handling the whole situation,” said Zsazzi Powell, 27, a stay-at-home mother in Ferguson. “We’re tired of all the pacifying.”

Alicia Berry, 38, a teacher, said Sharpton should pressure the media to not always emphasize the negative. She said the media had paid too much attention to the looting that happened last week, rather than shining a light on those who had worked hard to keep the rallies safe.

“Every race has its handful of fools,” she said.

Berry called Sharpton’s speech “powerful” but said she wanted to know — “What’s going to happen after this?”

(Lilly Fowler is the religion reporter for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Reach her on Twitter.)

Across America, Silent Vigils Mark Mike Brown’s Death

by | Aug 15, 2014 | Headline News |

(RNS) In cities large and small, people across America came together to silently remember Michael Brown, a teen none knew in life but whose death Saturday sparked a wave of unrest in his Missouri hometown and raised questions about racial profiling and police militarization.

Attendees wore red ribbons to honor Brown, 18, at Thursday (Aug. 14) evening rallies from Maine to Michigan, Florida to New York, Vermont, Colorado and California.

Many shared their stories of alleged police brutality, and called for a new compact between officers and civilians.

Brown, who was black, was shot dead by a police officer Saturday (Aug. 9) in the St. Louis suburb of Ferguson. While local police have released few details about the circumstances of Brown’s death, his body lay in the street for hours. His death has drawn increasing national attention, first from civil unrest by furious residents, and then an increasingly heavy-handed police presence fueled by heavy social media attention.

Kenny Wiley, a youth minister who helped organize a vigil in Denver said Brown’s death is the most recent demonstration of what he called the “systemic inequality” facing young black men in America. Wiley, who is black, said the system feels stacked against some people who pay the price with their lives.

“It wasn’t in our city, but this is our country, our world,” said Wiley, 26. “We want to stand up and say enough is enough, and to mourn those who have lost their lives.” Wiley led about 100 people through a vigil that included the out-loud listing of names of black men killed by police and chants of “hands up, don’t shoot.”

In Greenville, S.C., about 200 people, including the Rev. Jesse Jackson, gathered on a plaza in front of the Peace Center for the Performing Arts.

“This struggle has depth and breadth and history,” Jackson, a Greenville native, told the crowd. “And if the impact of his death wakes you up, he’s made a contribution.”

Jackson recalled as a child the lynching of a black mentally retarded man in 1947 in nearby Pickens County and called the shooting death of Michael Brown “a state execution.”

“If it’s done by an official with a badge on and a gun, it is a state execution,” he said.

Jackson said he was in town to visit his mother when he heard about the rally, organized by two young black men.

“This is a wake-up call,” he said. “I find a certain fascination with watching these young men and women be born again.

“This is the day of your birth,” he told Ricky Pulley, one of the organizers. “You were just now born again.”

Eric Wood, a white 51-year-old business owner from Greenville, held up a sign that said “Remember!” and “Protect & Serve. No one is above the law.”

“I’m a law-and-order guy,” he said. “I believe in the police, but there are bad cops.”

Ryan Thomas, a 31-year-old auto technician from Greenville, said he felt that if he didn’t take a stand here, far from Ferguson, that something like what happened to Brown could happen in Greenville.

“It’s a problem everywhere,” he said. “It’s not just one city, one state.”

At Rutgers University in New Brunswick, N.J., Joann Mitchell, a 53-year-old mother of a young boy, was on the verge of tears imploring the crowd to do more than get angry.

“All this here,” she said, gesturing to poster boards with the faces of some police shooting victims, “is because we didn’t do nothing. You’ve got to stop. You’ve got to hold on to each other.”

She went on, “Vote. Stop letting them do it to us. Go to school, get your education and stop this, because no one else can stop it.”

In Indianapolis, Tiffany Pettiford brought her 8-year-old son, Joseph Duerson, to a rally in downtown’s Monument Circle that drew about 100 people. As the mother of a young black boy, Pettiford said, she lives with worry for her son.

“He could just be walking down the street in 10 years, minding his own business, matching the description of someone who did do something wrong, and all of a sudden it’s ‘Stop! Put your hands in the air!’,” she said. “And with his autism, he might get scared and run.”

In Burlington, Vt., Davaki Chayut said she felt “pretty frustrated and hopeless” over the militarization of police forces.

“I think it’s important as a community to speak for those who are not being heard, to speak for those who are persecuted, and it’s so complicated,” Chayut said.

The vigil in Phoenix took place on a sultry evening at Eastlake Park, a longtime hub for civil rights rallies and African-American events. There was no visible police presence. Names of alleged brutality victims were recited aloud, followed by a moment of silence.

“What’s it really mean to have justice?” asked Tia Oso, a co-organizer. “What’s it really mean to have justice? That’s why we’re here today.”

(Trevor Hughes writes for USA Today. Also contributing: Dennis Wagner of The Arizona Republic, Ron Barnett, The Greenville (S.C.) News, Dustin Racioppi, Asbury Park (N.J.) Press, Elizabeth Murrray of the Burlington (Vt.) Free Press, Diana Penner of the Indianapolis Star.)

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