PHOTOS: Why We Walked the Walk and Marched for Justice

One of those little boys is twenty-one times more likely to be shot by police than the other. The reason is melanin. Studies, good ones, have shown this is simply a fact, and it is the stupidest most unjust thing I can think of.

And there are many many white folks, even perhaps you, who assume the cops don't hurt the "good" black people. He will be raised right, he will be a good one, who doesn't dress badly, hang out with the wrong crowd in the wrong places. He will respect authority.The ones they shoot did something to deserve it. They were wearing gang clothes. Saggy pants. Hanging out in suspect places. Walking suspiciously. Swaggering. Looking dangerous. They mouthed off. If you don't want to be stopped, frisked, searched, shot, just be a good black person who doesn't live in places where there is high crime.

I know white folks think these things, because they said it all week long on Facebook and Twitter. Really, I've heard it my whole life. But these thoughts are delusional.

Harvard professors, "good" black people, are arrested outside their own homes for "not belonging" in their own "good" neighborhoods. Well dressed, affluent, well educated black men on the way to functions and dances are stopped, cuffed, beat up. They are shot outside of weddings, walking down the street. They are dressed well. They are on the sidewalk, with pants pulled up, Masters degrees on the wall at home. They are shot inside their own homes while sleeping.  They are unarmed, not talking back, holding toys. I feel there is no "right way" to be a safe black person in the eyes of the police.

I told everything to my oldest child, Mimi who is a teenager and black. I showed her my profile picture on Facebook, which are Eric Garner's last words as police held him down and choked him to death. I showed her part of the video of Eric Garner's killing, and we cried. I showed her quotes from Twitter. I told her that as of now, none of the people responsible for the deaths of Eric Garner, Mike Brown, nor John Crawford will even have a trial, let alone go to prison.

And I told her people are mad. I showed her videos and pictures of protests. And then I told her there was one here in Boston. And I asked her if she wanted to go.

She didn't hesitate, and neither did I. This sweet 14-year-old knew I'd been spending hours online since the Mike Brown tragedy trying to raise awareness in my small sphere about the injustice and the problems with that case. And now this, new hurt, new outrage. I couldn't just be someone who talked about it, to not go felt hypocritical. I texted Hubs, who wanted to come, too.

As we bundled and layered up for what would be a 30 degree night outside the younger children asked where we were going. My answers were vague but honest.

Well, some police were really mean to someone. And the people that should have helped called a Grand Jury, they could have made sure the police got in trouble, well,  they let the police have no consequences. The police hurt him badly, he didn't didn't deserve it.

Then they started asking more questions. And though I had hoped to spare the younger kids the details, I calmly ended up admitting the police killed Eric Garner, who hadn't tried to hurt anyone. They didn't try to save his life, they didn't try to resuscitate him, he died at their feet while they watched that that is wrong. He was black and yes, many people feel the way they treated him was in part due to the fact that he was black, and they were not getting in trouble for what they did.

And as I laced up my boots, Tsega asked, "Mom, could you get killed there?"

I dropped the laces and grabbed the kids' hands. I reassured them that Mimi, Daddy and I would stay safe, and that we would not get hurt.

In my heart though, I knew that that is actually not true of many people who protest. Peaceful protesters are pepper sprayed, tear gassed, beaten and arrested by the police all the time. They have been treated hideously for decades. But Hubs and I agreed: We'd leave if things started to get rowdy or felt unsafe.

We drove 30 minutes to downtown Boston, parked on Newbury Street and walked through the Public Garden and to the far side of Boston Common. There were scads of people out and we soon realized many of them were not here for a protest, but for a tree lighting ceremony. We stood around aimlessly looking for "our people" and after just a few minutes we heard helicopters overhead. Moments later we heard chanting. Then we saw the signs.

After the marchers filed past us filling Park Street, lined by police, we hopped in and joined the protest.

Chanting "Hands up, don't shoot"Hubs and Mimi and I joined our voices with the crowd.

After marching through the theater district moving towards Government center, stopping traffic and getting ample attention from drivers, passersby and the police, I was so overcome by the signs I decided to make sure I captured what people wrote. It felt so raw.

This man holding the Skittles and Arizona was silent above the crowd standing up on a stack of pallets while I watched him. He was a powerful reminder of all the lives lost and justice not served not just this past week, or past few months, but the ugliness going back years and years. There are grieving parents from years ago that still don't have peace for their dead children.

We were overcome with the solemn and heavy feeling, the hurt, the seriousness, the anger. I was moved that the Boston crowd was racially mixed as it can be. Sometimes during the chanting, my voice caught in my throat with tears so I couldn't join in.

Our signs were simple. I had thought about making one bigger, maybe with more anger. One that said "Are you going to shoot her if her white mother isn't with her?" But we decided to go with the more important message: her life matters. Black lives matter. I believe the signs "All Lives Matter" are a distraction because the police have already made it clear that they know white lives matter. What we need the justice system to acknowledge is that black lives matter just as much.

It was a very powerful experience, even while knowing our being there is only a tiny part of change, I believe it went a long way in showing our children were we stand. We are hoping to participate in another, bigger march in Washington D.C., as the outcry grows for improvement in police accountability for violence against black lives.

I went with my daughter, because I needed her to know—and our other children to know— that we will fight for them and for equality. I do not want this time in our nation's history to be written in a book someday, for the tensions and the struggle documented, and not have been one who fought for justice in my small way. The black and white children in this mixed-race household don't deserve parents who ignore it and make it seem unimportant.

Mimi, who is the bravest girl in the world, went to the library the next day with her "Black Lives Matter" sign taped to her back. She got stares, giggles, and she was stoic. I don't know any teenager so unencumbered by "giving a crap what anyone thinks" as this girl. She is powerful, hopeful, and she is out to make a difference in the world.

My white kids, and yours if you have them, do not have to wear a sign begging people to understand that their lives matter. 

Let us keep teaching our children. Don't let these events, these failures to indict police and the outrage they've sparked die out in a week or two. Eric Garner's and John Crawford's children aren't forgetting, Mike Brown, Trayvon's, and Tamir's parents aren't forgetting. Keep this alive. Keep paying attention.  To keep learning and stay on top of things here are some good places to start.

How many people die in police custody?

 Wilson isn't arrested for killing Mike Brown, but a prominent Ferguson protester is arrested

 Striking and sobering cartoons depicting these grand jury travesties

 How the police treated Tamir's sister who was in the same park playing when they shot him.

 The best 'SNL' opening skit tackles the Eric Garner decision beautifully

While cops let black man die at their feet, they were texting their union reps instead of calling an ambulance or administering CPR. He should have never been shot.

Our own congressional staffers protest on the steps of the capital

Time lapse showing just how big this weekend's protest in New York was. 

The discussion, the fight goes on. I hope I can keep learning more from my daughter, from activists around me to see how I can be apart of the solution. Because racism doesn't exist because black people did something; only white people can teach their children and try to end it, By ignoring it, we decide it's not worth our time, that it isn't our creation or our problem. We need to not just talk the talk with our children, though, we need to walk the walk. 

*Photos are copyrighted, and owned by myself. If you'd like to use any, please ask. Thank you to the visitor who asked before borrowing.