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A third night of protests erupted in Louisville over the police shooting of Breonna Taylor, an African American who was unarmed when police executed a "no-knock" search warrant at her apartment Louisville Courier Journal

I have lived in Atlanta and remain ahomeowner in Georgia, where Ahmaud Arbery was killed by a former police detective. I have lived in Dallas, where a police officer killed Botham Jean in his own apartment. I have lived in Charlotte, where former Florida A&M Universityfootball player Jonathan Ferrell sought help after a car accident and ended up being killed by a police officer. I've lived in Minneapolis, where life was choked out of George Floyd by a police officer, and in nearby St. Paul, where Philando Castile was gunned down by an officer during a traffic stop.

I'm from Sanford, Florida, where vigilante George Zimmerman killed Trayvon Martin. I now live in Louisville,where Breonna Taylor was shot eight times and killed by police in March after they entered her residence on a no-knock warrantat 12:40 a.m.

I am exhausted. I am enraged. I'm fed up and I'm hurting. I am afraid for black men and women. I am afraid for this country.

Our view: George Floyd protests: Dont deploy active duty American troops to battleAmericans

Opposing view: American carnage: These aren't protests they're riots. Someone must end the lawlessness.

I am disturbed and disappointed by the burning buildings and destroyed communities.

But I am not distracted. These fires weren't sparked out of thin air.

The anguish of racism, the pain of inequity and the absence of justice are the agents of outrage.

Shattered storefronts representshattered communities. Looting is inexcusable. So, too, is the theft of hopes and dreams and futures of peoplesnuffed out by police brutality.

Rana Cash, sports director(Photo: Courier Journal)

Burning down buildings solves absolutely nothing. Instead, set aflame the systems that set the stage for economic imbalance, health disparities exasperated by COVID-19, educational gaps and a criminal justice structure that has a stranglehold on black and brown people.

Buildings will be restored, but jobs will be lostandlives will be changed beyond the damage already dealt by the coronavirus. And while violence has too often been the answer for police, it is not the answer for those demanding justice reform and an overhaul ofpractices and policiesthat have disenfranchised black lives.

Time to face up: America's overdue reckoning with white supremacy: 'We have allowed evil to flourish'

The work of eradicating 400 years of racism is harder. The work of eliminating police brutality is harder. The path to healing from trauma induced by videos on a loop of murdered black bodies is treacherous.

It's much easier to condemn violent riots and call for peace than it is to fix a system that isn't broken, but is doing exactly what it was built to do. Alas, this is the work of creating from the ground up a new, fair andjust system for all.

Rana L. Cash is the editor of the Savannah Morning News and Georgia state director for the USA TODAY Network. This column originally appeared in the Louisville Courier Journal. Follow her onTwitter:@rana_cash

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Looting is inexcusable. So is the ongoing police brutality that steals hopes and dreams. - USA TODAY

As many as 10,000 flooded downtown in a noisy but peaceful demonstration

Photo by Melodie Newman

By Hope McKinney

Thousands of protesters dressed in black, faces clad in masks, and carrying signs flooded into downtown Providence Friday afternoon for the Protect Black Lives protest. It was one of many seen around the country and across the globe following the recent killings at the hands of police of George Floyd in Minneapolis and Breonna Taylor in Louisville, Kentucky.

The energy felt palpable as protesters of all ages gathered at Kennedy Plaza and walked up to the State House. People driving by were sticking their fists out of their car windows and honking, many shouting their support.

Protesters quickly picked up different chants, No justice, no peace, and, Black lives matter, to Hey hey, ho ho, these racist cops have got to go.

The names of unarmed black people recently murdered by police, including Floyd, 46 at the time of his death, and Taylor, 26, could be heard chanted repeatedly throughout the day. Friday would have been Taylors 27th birthday the tune of Happy Birthday erupted as the crowd stood outside the State House.

A few speakers were heard urging the city of Providence and the state of Rhode Island to act with love, fighting darkness with light. One of the speakers, 16-year-old Ayee Yeakula, was one of the youth organizers for the protest, alongside Kiara Cruel, 16, and Faith Quinnea, 16.

Elizabeth AVant, a mother from Lincoln who works in the Providence school system, was one of the protesters.

I have three black boys, she said. My oldest is 26 and I have twins that are 23, and every time they leave my house, I worry about if theyre going to be the next victim. So, I have to be here.

She said she felt overwhelmed with the outpouring of love and support from the community.

Its really meaningful, she said. Its bringing tears to my eyes to see so many people black, white, of all different denominations.

Macey Hardin from Bristol talked about what it was like being a black person growing up in a predominantly white town.

Brett Smiley and Dr. Nicole Alexander-Scott at the State House during Fridays protest.

All throughout elementary school, I was literally the only African American there and I feel like I was targeted a lot just because of my race, she said. They tried to paint me out to be the problem black kid. Im fighting for the 8-year-old girl that I used to be and Im also fighting for my future kids who will be African American, as well. This is just not a world they belong in, so we need to change it right away.

AVant and Hardin urged people to educate themselves and be vocal.

Silence does nothing, Hardin said. Do as much as you can. Donating. Even just Instagram posts. Theres nothing too small, everything is good enough to show your support.

Theres some really, really good books out there on the market that you can read about anti-racism, about privilege, said AVant. People dont like to hear that term white privilege. Its real. So, do some reading. Open your mind.

As the sun began to set and the air cooled, some protesters headed out, while others broke off from the crowd and created different groups. The Sam Cooke song A Change is Gonna Come, widely known for representing the struggles of black people in America, floated throughout the area, providing a sense of calm after the vivacious noise at the State House.

Photo by Melodie Newman

One group got on their knees surrounding Ibiolatiwa Akomolafe, a young woman who recited,

Capitalize the A in America and remember to capitalize the T in Trayvon Martin, recalling the death of 17-year-old Travyon Martin killed by vigilante George Zimmerman, 28, in Florida in 2012. Zimmerman was later acquitted.

At around 7:30 p.m., Superintendent of the State Police Department, Colonel James Manni, spoke about the protest.

We found the protesters to be respectful overall, and well-organized, and they exercised their constitutional rights First Amendment, freedom of speech and we respect that, he said. We stood with them and continue to let them exercise their right.

As for any concerns about the aftermath of protesters continuing past the 9 p.m. curfew, set after the looting and vandalism earlier in the week, he said he felt hopeful.

Im not nervous about it, he said. Its always a concern, you know, public safetys a priority here in the city of Providence and I just hope it remains calm throughout the night and that it remains respectful to everyone and we get through it.

Members of the R.I. National Guard and police officers were seen on the outskirts of the protest, quietly watching from afar, even engaging with many protesters.

Intermittently, some protesters chanted, Wheres Gina? Soon after curfew, Governor Gina Raimondo went out to the steps of the State House, thanking the protesters for remaining peaceful.

I want you to know that I hear you, Im praying with you and Im fully committed to taking action and working with you to eliminate racism in RI, she wrote on Twitter.

Soon after, a moment of silence was held for the victims of police brutality. A protester yelled, Make some noise for George Floyd! Protesters erupted in applause.

Multiple live streams showed protesters continuing to march throughout the city until almost 11 p.m. Many people on the streets were outstretched from their homes, yelling in support of the movement.

Police let protesters continue to march past 9 p.m. despite the curfew. Raimondo did make an appearance outside the State House, strongly urging remaining protesters to remain peaceful and offering a prayer. As WPRI reporter Kim Kalunian tweeted out, not everyone was on board with Raimondo at that point. And things got tense in other parts of downtown, but peace held.

At one point, protesters seemed to be cornered by state police on Broadway but were eventually allowed to keep walking.

Some ended up marching back to Kennedy Plaza alongside officers, seemingly ending the day of the protest on a positive note.

United we stand, divided we fall! a protester yelled over a megaphone.

If you value what you find on East Greenwich News, consider making a donation. We are a 501(c)(3). Use the button below or, if youd rather mail something, send it to EG News, 18 Prospect St., E.G., RI 02818. Thanks every contribution helps.

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Thousands Gather in Providence in Support of Black Lives East Greenwich News - East Greenwich News

On May 25, 2020, unarmed, 46-year old Minneapolis resident George Floyd died after being restrained by officer Derek Chauvin whose knee was lodged into his neck as he lay handcuffed, face down in the street for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. Considered a gentle giant by family members, friends and co-workers because of his height, George Floyd was an African American man who was arrested by Chauvin, a white police officer, for allegedly using a counterfeit $20 bill to buy cigarettes at a local grocery store. Before his death at a local hospital about an hour later, bystanders watched as Chauvin maintained pressure on George Floyds neck as three other officers did absolutely nothing to stop what clearly was an intrusive use of force. All of these actions were captured on the camera phones of nearby onlookers attempting to help yet another Black man immobilized by the police.

In the last eleven years, mobile technology has become a communications staple for vulnerable populations, particularly smartphones. Twenty-five percent of African Americans and 23 percent of Latinos are smartphone-dependent, carrying the medium as their primary mode of communication. In recent years, individuals, who have witnessed physical encounters between citizens and the police, recorded them, sometimes revealing the depth of the institutional terror waged on Black people by law enforcement.

With the long history in America of violence against Black people, the ubiquity of video recordings has recast the narrative surrounding police violence and heightened public concerns about law enforcement. In todays world, virtually anyone can be a videographer and filmmaker. The combination of smart phones, video recording apps, and social media platforms have generated a revolution in public empowerment. Rather than having to take the word of African Americans over the police, people can see the violence for themselves and demand justice.

These factors should explain why recorded observations of police brutality against African Americans trigger protests, even during a global pandemic. Technology is becoming part of the story regarding how marginalized populations in the U.S. and across the world are recording injustice and thereby, gaining personal empowerment. Leveraging the internet, civilian-generated video content can move public opinion toward more critical views of law enforcement and mass incarceration.

The troubling pattern

In the Floyd case, videos taken by onlookers camera phones showed his final moments as he screamed out three words, I cant breathe! followed by cry for help to his deceased mother. The recordings reminded people of the same phrase previously heard from another unarmed Black male named Eric Garner, who was placed in a tight chokehold by officer Daniel Pantaleo in Staten Island, New York. After being arrested on July 17, 2014 for allegedly selling single cigarettes from a carton without a tax stamp, Garners physical exchange with law enforcement ended with him on the ground, turned on his side to stabilize his breathing until his death an hour later at a local hospital. After seeing Eric Garner overpowered by police, more than 50 national demonstrations rejecting Pantaleos actions erupted. One month later these would be followed by the protests and riots in Ferguson, Missouri, after Officer Darren Wilson failed to be charged for killing unarmed 18-year old Michael Brown after he was accused of stealing cheap cigars and shoving a convenience store clerk. Three years after Browns death, surveillance footage revealed a non-violent African American male in a convenience store, countering Officer Wilsons story.

George Floyds fate is shockingly similar to those of Eric Garner, Michael Brown and the countless others whose lives were shortened by police brutality. The recordings of his encounter sparked protests among thousands of Minnesotans and out-of-state protestors, demanding that all four officers be immediately fired and charged. Five days later, Chauvin would be charged with third-degree murder and within days of transferring his case to the states attorney general, Keith Ellison, the charges were upgraded. Ten days into the national protests, the remaining three officers were charged with aiding and abetting in the crime that caused Mr. Floyds death.

Why are police shootings more visible?

Not since the painful images of the open casket for Black teenager Emmett Till in 1955 has all of America seen what racial violence looks like in the U.S. Emmetts mother, Mamie Till Bradley, decided to televise his funeral with an open casket, allowing mourners in person and on television to see his mangled stature, swollen face, and body after being brutally attacked in the South.

Despite Trayvon Martins fatal encounter with White vigilante George Zimmerman not being videotaped, the 17-year olds death in 2012 was probably the next most powerful image of an unarmed, Black man in a hoodie, that invoked suspicion of this young student who was walking in his mothers neighborhood.

But before Martin, the murder of 22-year old, Oakland native, Oscar Grant, was the first police brutality incident to be recorded and shared via an early generation smartphone. Grant, whose story was later told in the 2013 movie Fruitvale Station, was fatally shot after being handcuffed and restrained by two Bay Area Rapid Transit Officers working for Oaklands public transit system. Bystanders used their camera phones to capture the moments when unarmed Grant stood up only to be pushed back to the ground and shot by one of the police officers within seconds. But this video did not reach the scale of online audience of others, mainly because social media companies like Twitter and Facebook, as well as other online platforms, were not as quite mature. Compared to its 2.6 billion subscribers in the first quarter of 2020, Facebook only reported 150 million users at that time, which contained the images of activism around Oscar Grants death to the Oakland area, where several days of protesting occurred.

1 in 1,000 African American men have a higher chance of being killed by the police over their lifetime, according to 2019 research. The deaths of Black women follow, despite the lack of national visibility on their cases. The 2015 police body cam footage of Sandra Bland showed a violent slamming of her body to the ground after being stopped during a routine traffic stop in Waller, Texas. Three days later, she would be found dead in her jail cell, which the chief medical examiner ruled a suicide. The recent police shooting of EMT Breonna Taylor in Louisville, Kentucky, has gained greater profile during the protests, especially as its been shared that she was shot at least 8 times during a police search warrant executed at the wrong home. To raise the profile of Black women and girls shot by police in the national debate, legal advocate, Kimberlee Crenshaw, launched an online campaign, #SayHerName to tell their stories.

Even when theres video, indictments of police are not easy

One of the few cases where a video recording led to an indictment of an officer was the death of Walter Scott in North Charleston, South Carolina. Scott, an unarmed Black man was shot in his back as he ran from a routine traffic stop in 2015. After his death, the arresting Officer Michael Slager tried to lie about what happened, but an onlooker, Feiden Santana, recorded the entire incident on his cell phone. The recording and Santanas testimony were presented in court, resulting in a 20-year sentence in jail for this rogue cop.

But incriminating footage from camera phones may not always result in charges being filed against a given police officer(s). Even with a video, it took five years in the Eric Garner case to fire Pantaleo, due to a lengthy federal investigation and a strong New York City police union who decried any punitive actions against him. In 2019, Attorney General William Barr ordered the case to be closed. In Baltimore, the very public arrest of African American Freddie Gray in 2015, followed by the immediate indictments of all six police officers by States Attorney Marilyn Mosby, still resulted in no convictions.

Immediately after George Floyds death, President Donald J. Trump asked the Department of Justice and FBI to expedite the investigation into the details. But that all shifted within one week when the White House leaned into the protests and started focusing on far-left groups, progressive anarchists, and bona fide criminals, all of whom they suggested were infiltrating legitimate protests. Attorney General Barr would soon announce an investigation into far-left groups, like Antifa, despite the presence of known white supremacist disrupters driving some of the looting and violence in various cities.

And now, President Trumps new focus on law and order, rather than the restoration of democracy and racial healing, is increasing the proliferation of surveillance by the police and military to censure these ongoing mass protests around the country. The images and videos of military de-escalation tactics that include tear gas drops and batons from protestors camera phones are as equally disturbing as the recording of Floyds murder. In various cities, some police are also deploying facial-recognition-technologies to scan the crowds of protestors and gathering location data to improve upon protest surveillance and restraint.

Technology brings pain to life

Police brutality has emerged from a history of the states invasive surveillance and persistent assaults on African Americans and their lifestyles. These recordings bring visibility to the historical terror and fear African Americans feel in the presence of police. Sometimes, these occurrences result in deadly consequences for Black people who cannot easily escape the realities of being racially profiled or targeted within and outside of their communities.

But unfortunately, despite how tragic and mentally traumatic the deaths of Oscar Grant, Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Walter Scott, Sandra Bland, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and the countless others have been, there will be more Black men and women dying while in police custody without the structural, behavioral and policy changes to policing in America. And before these changes are even instituted, we need a national acknowledgement that racism and discrimination have normalized violence against people of color.

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Where would racial progress in policing be without camera phones? - Brookings Institution

Mothers of Black sons carry those fears with them always. The crushing weight of them can never be prayed away though God knows, Smith gives it her best shot. She has done everything she could to protect her son, tried to warn him that the color of his skin makes him a target, but also to urge him to understand those who hate him, to keep him from the justified anger that would make white people see him as even more of a threat.

None of it will save her son if his car is stopped by the wrong police officer. And none of it saves him from the corrosive indignities of his days, offenses in stores and office cubicles that go far deeper than bad policing.

After Trayvon Martin was shot to death by George Zimmerman in Florida in 2012, I talked with Smith about how she tries to protect her son who, like Martin, was 17 at the time.

Between Martins death and Floyds, her son has gone to college, launched a career in finance, and bought a home in Mattapan. In that time, many, many Black men and women have died at the hands of police officers and others to whom their lives are worthless, some of those deaths caught on video, too.

I talked with Smith, who leads an anti-violence group called Mothers for Justice and Equality, about how little has changed between then and now, and whether she sees any hope of progress. Today, Im going to get out of the way and let her tell you herself.

"When Trayvon Martin happened, there was that whole fear of knowing that as a Black mother you did everything you could do, and you still have to live with fear every single day every single day that his life may be taken for no other reason than because he is a Black man. And then you have to deal with the anguish of having to explain to your Black child that because of who you are you will be hated by certain people. Then youve got to balance that with protecting his heart from becoming bitter and resentful towards everyone who doesnt look like him, because its important for our children to hold onto hope, and love.

"We always raised him to really embrace people from all different races, but I remember him coming home when he was in high school, saying he had been followed around in stores [as if he was going to steal something]. And I would say, You have to know who you are, and I would try to ease that burden and acknowledge that he would always be targeted, and say to him, Maybe wave at the police or something. I couldnt show I was angry or hurt, which I was. If Id told my son the truth, then he might not be able to deal with what is in front of him every day.

"He has been pulled over by police, and he has been scared. When he finished at Babson and started his first job at an investment firm, he was in an elevator and a white woman got on, and he felt like this person feared him, or that he was suspicious because he was a young Black man. One time he was leaving work for the weekend and a white colleague said to him, Dont get shot. When a white co-workers desk was moved near him [the co-worker] said, Im moving to the ghetto. Those things dont leave you.

"I raised my son and sacrificed and paid for him to go to college, I did everything I was supposed to do. He got accepted, he did his work, he got a job, and he still has to deal with racism. Its not fair. Its a deep wound we cover up.

"We have to be silent in moments when we want to raise our voices. Weve got to keep the peace in order for our children to survive in a society that only sees our skin first. We have to teach our children to survive racism.

"I dont get up a day, or go to bed at night, without praying God will protect my son from dangers, seen and unseen. I do not live a moment without that prayer. I have fear for my son all the time, that his life will be prematurely taken from him. He has a nice car, he worked hard for it, and Im afraid he will be pulled over and meet up with the wrong person.

"So Black mothers, we are bearing a lot, raising Black sons. And then watching our sisters lose their children, that fear and anguish is so real.

"But I think we are looking at something different now. You know when a person reaches a point where they just cant take it anymore? I think we are looking at that moment. There are so many we can name, from Trayvon Martin to DJ Henry to Ahmaud Arbery, and we had a wound from each one [of their deaths]. And what we are seeing now is that wound is just open, and we are not going to Band-aid it anymore. My son is angry. He is going to the rallies. He knows something is very wrong here.

"We had to watch that video [of Floyds death] for eight minutes, but it wasnt anything that mothers who are raising Black boys didnt live every single day. But now people are coming together, and realizing something we have been struggling with for years. Im hearing from white mothers who want to join us and say, What can I do?

"There is a call for change, and we will not accept anything other than that, and I think no longer will people just bite their tongues or be silent. You are going to see young people like my son go into these spaces and say, No more. I deserve to be here, just like you.

We have a lot of work to do to see that vision come to pass.

Globe columnist Yvonne Abraham can be reached at yvonne.abraham@globe.com. Follow her on Twitter @GlobeAbraham.

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For mothers of Black sons, George Floyds death is their worst fear made real again - The Boston Globe

I am a black man in America. I use my art to speak outJoshua Rashaad McFadden, Minneapolis

The first time I experienced racism I was about ten. Someone called me the N-word in gym class, but I was the one who was reprimanded: they called my parents as if I had provoked him to call me that. My parents were upset and made sure I knew that I was not that word. That should not have been the way teachers adults handled that situation.

In adulthood I began to notice racism more and more. I was a senior in college in 2012 when Trayvon Martin was killed. He was walking through a gated community when he was shot by George Zimmerman, a neighbourhood-watch volunteer. When Zimmerman was acquitted it was the first time I really saw my generation protest and that sparked the Black Lives Matter movement.

Many of the young people protesting now were only ten years old then. They grew up within the Black Lives Matter movement and they see it very differently from how I do. I think they feel more empowered, theyre less afraid to participate.

I live in Rochester, New York, but when I saw what was happening in Minneapolis I decided to drive there straight away. I essentially drove overnight.

When I got there, everywhere I went the atmosphere was one of sadness. Everybody seemed traumatised. There were pockets of the city that were burned down, particularly around Lake Street. It was gassy, smoky. There was debris and people were running. It looked like a war zone. Things were sparking, exploding, crumbling right in front of your eyes. And there were huge military trucks coming down the street.

I am a black male in America. I deal with the same issues being perceived as a threat, or who knows what. In these situations, trying to document the protests, it always comes down to one question: how do the police see me? A white photographer offered for me to join her, saying, if you come with me, theyre less likely to shoot. So I stuck with her for the night. Do I see myself as a photographer, an activist or a participant? Im all of those things. Its who I am. But Im also an artist, and my art is what I use to speak out.

On Sunday the police and national guard started to push back more. I saw protesters being shot with rubber bullets. The police were aiming guns and throwing tear-gas bombs. Some people tried to extinguish the tear-gas canisters using traffic cones. The gas goes into your mouth and your nose and your eyes. It burned my face, it was stinging, I couldnt breathe. All my skin, my whole body was burning. It pretty much took me out for the night.

If I had fear, I wouldnt be here. It is emotionally taxing. I saw a kid who was about 16, who was out at a protest by himself at two in the morning. People were wondering, why are you here, where are your parents? He said his mother passed away, he doesnt have any parents and he felt like he needed to be there. Because, of course, he identified. Just seeing the pain, it sticks with you. Theres not really much I could do about it. I just keep moving forward, I just know that the work has to be done.

Joshua Rashaad McFadden is from Rochester, New York, where he teaches photography at the Rochester Institute of Technology.

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Portraits of protest in America | 1843 - The Economist 1843