I was listening to the radio this morning and the story that caught my attention was a commemoration of the Los Angeles riots 25 years ago. It triggered my memory of the uprising that took place in Atlanta at the same time. This piece is not to compare the events because the country was rightfully riveted by the conflagration of Los Angeles in the aftermath of a very controversial verdict in the trial of the officers charged with beating Rodney King. Even if I could articulate a perspective on what went on in LA, it occurs alongside what I/we experienced in Atlanta and it is through that lens that I offer these thoughts.
It was the end of the semester. The night that the verdict was announced, many of us were at King's Chapel for the Miss Maroon and White pageant, which was to be the final show of the semester before exams. This is the time before smartphones, so the news did not come to us via Twitter. We found out because someone had been watching CNN during a break in the show. While we were waiting for the announcement of the court, someone took to the stage to announce the verdict.
Next I remember a lot of discussion and honestly, I don't recall that we processed the news as being nearly as serious until later on in the dorms. That is when we saw the first news reports of rioting in Los Angeles.
Somehow, we got word that a protest rally would be taking place the next day. Again, this is in the era before the internet or social media, so it was spread via word of mouth, which meant information was all over the place. A few of us decided to attend the protest, and walked out of Spelman's front gate without knowing what to expect.
At this point, I need to insert some commentary about the events that followed, because this is my memory and it is subject to my personal biases. Which may or may not reflect what actually happened to those who were active and visible participants...but it is what I observed, and in some cases, what I experienced. It might not be a flattering recollection either, but I want to emphasize that often in circumstances of chaos, there are not always bright lines of right and wrong.
On our way to the protest, we saw a group of people chanting and marching. We watched as they marched from the center of what could be called the center of our campuses (Brawley Street) towards the Georgia Dome and eventually into downtown. I think we followed for part of the way, but turned around when confronted by the Spelman police who instructed us to return to campus. This is an important detail because as the protestors left our campus, it picked up more people from the community and the campus police were explicit in their warning that we should not continue with that group. I recall going back to the dorm, where we watched the events unfold on television.
As the crowd grew and continued its march towards downtown, things got out of hand. I am unsure what caused the change, but by the time the crowd reached downtown Atlanta, which was literally a couple of miles away, the tenor of the protest had changed and the rioting began. A window display at Underground Atlanta, which was a popular tourist destination, was smashed and the police moved in swiftly to arrest protestors and rioters.
What I remember next was that we were instructed not to leave campus under any circumstances. We were told that students gathered in groups larger than three would be arrested. Our library was closed, and this was the beginning of our reading period before final exams. Police dressed in full riot gear surrounded our campuses.
The next day was when things became totally chaotic. Another protest was announced, and in defiance of the instructions not to gather in large groups, students made plans to meet on Morris Brown's campus. I convinced my roommate that we should go, and she reluctantly agreed to accompany me. We decided to walk the long way, which was in hindsight one of those providential decisions that probably saved us from witnessing and becoming victims of the clash between students and the police. By the time we arrived, the protest had been dispersed and tear gas had been released. We took a different route back to campus, which took us past our closed library and through another campus where the air was thick with tear gas. We ran into several of our friends who had witnessed the clash and emotions were high...
My Morehouse brother escorted us back to safety. From my dorm room, the calls from our parents, who were also watching on TV, began. I just knew that my parents, especially my Dad who had been a protestor during the Civil Rights Movement, would understand. He didn't. Neither did my grandmother, who called and pleaded with me not to participate. I had already decided not to follow their directives until I watched more drama unfold on television.
I cannot remember which relative had called to dissuade me (or what lie I had told to calm their fears), but it was around this time that I saw footage of a clash between students and police that involved a patrol car being overturned. I saw flames coming from a campus bookstore. I saw flags on fire. I saw more tear gas canisters being thrown. I heard the helicopters flying above. I saw batons swing against the bodies of angry students. I saw lots of arrests. I heard the words of the city's Mayor declare that lawlessness would not be tolerated. I saw raw anger. Then I saw students loot a local liquor store.
And our library was still closed. I had research assignments due on Monday. I had anxious relatives worried that I would wade into the chaos and get killed. And Los Angeles was still burning.
We were summoned to Sisters Chapel. I don't recall what day this was anymore, but our College President addressed the assembly and chastised us. How dare we cause destruction and mayhem in our own community, she asked? Who among us was ready to go to jail? Who among us had any idea why we were so upset? How many of us planned to stick around after finals and graduation to live in the aftermath of the situation we helped to exacerbate? Who did we think we were?
And then, it all ended. Not because of the assembly at the chapel, but because the police, the mayor, and our four college presidents negotiated a truce. Our library was still closed, but I made it off campus to Georgia State's library to get the research done for my end of year projects. I took my exams. I packed up my things and eventually made it home for the summer. I saw the Whitley-Dwayne wedding episodes. Life continued.
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