She’s White. I’m Black. And We Marched in Ferguson Together
Editor's note: Danyelle Little and Janice Person are St. Louis neighbors and friends who traveled to Ferguson, Missouri together earlier this week. In this post, Danyelle tells her story first, and then Janice follows with her story.
By now, you know the name Michael Brown. The events of August 9, 2014, have been discussed at length over the 10-plus days since he was shot and killed by a police officer. The community of Ferguson, Missouri has been rocked to the core, and as a resident of the St. Louis area, I feel there is a lot of work that needs to be done before we will be able to heal from this.
I do not understand how an 18-year-old jaywalking in the streets turned into such a tragedy. And perhaps we will never know the full story of what transpired during the last few minutes of Michael Brown’s life. But what I do know, as a mom of a young black man myself, is that the assault on them has got to stop. There are far too many stories in the news of black men getting killed when it wasn’t justified.
I’ve been making my feelings known about the Michael Brown shooting from day one. I’ve also been exercising my right to protest to demand more answers. When I protest, I usually go it alone and meet up with other regulars across from the Ferguson Police Department. But on Monday, I met up with a friend and fellow blogging colleague, so that we could pound the pavement together in unison.
Janice is white. I am black. We call ourselves Ebony and Ivory. We are different as night and day, as far as looks are concerned, but we have much more in common than one would imagine. We are kindred spirits bonded by an appetite for truth—and now, we are linked together forever, as two sisters who decided to march together for justice on the now-infamous West Florissant drag.
I joined in the chants of “no justice, no peace,” and Janice held her sign up proudly while taking photos of the atmosphere.
A couple accompanied us from Decatur, Illinois who, on their honeymoon, drove to Ferguson to show their support for Michael Brown. The four of us dove right in, getting in step with the other protestors. At one point, a young man handed us roses so that we could hold them up in Brown’s memory while marching. After a teenaged black girl saw our roses and proclaimed that she wanted one too, Janice handed her rose to her, which made the girl smile. And it made my heart dance, because Janice is just that type of chick; she's is cool like that. She is selfless, and has been that way since I met her several years ago.
During our time on the West Florissant strip, we were met with love and positivity, despite what you may have seen on the news. If I could only bottle up our experience and give it to others, then I could truly showcase how wonderful it was to feel that in some way, we were making a difference.
As of this writing, the police officer responsible for Michael’s death has still not been charged. And from what I hear, it may be awhile before that happens—IF it happens. Until then, you can find me, every other day or so, across the street from the Ferguson Police Department or on West Florissant, marching and demanding justice. And you just may see Janice right next to me, doing the same thing.
The search for the truth knows no color.