This Stops Today

by Gwen Carr

  People might hear about it and think they understand, but most folks I’ve talked to said they had no idea that’s what it was really like out there in the streets. They couldn’t believe that we were not shocked by how Eric was treated in that video. We did not like it, I can promise you that, and it made us angry and upset, but there was one thing we were not, and that was surprised. For a lot of people, that is a way of life and a daily occurrence. The police officers were upset because they got caught. They never expected that video to go soaring out into cyberspace. Never in a million years.

  They thought it was just another day when they were flexing their police muscle and making sure the Black men and women in that area were afraid of them. They used fear and intimidation as their weapon, and we were never surprised to hear yet another story about harassment at the hands of police. Each time I met another mother and heard yet another horrible story, my heart sank, and in my head I thought, Not again. I mean, seriously, how many times does it have to happen?

  So, when people would ask us whether we thought we were reaching the Black voters, I would say that I hoped we were reaching all voters. Motherhood is universal, and it goes beyond race. It’s about being treated fairly and humanely, and then having consequences when those basic tenets of human behavior are not followed. It really is not a complicated concept, but I know it gets people upset. First, they don’t like to think of police officers as being so cruel and heartless. Al Sharpton’s words always ring in my head: “When does your humanity kick in?” Second, they don’t want to think people are being treated that way. They might see it in a movie or hear it in the lyrics of a rap song, but they don’t want to actually know about it. That makes it too real, and they have to either deal with it or ignore it. Who could live with themselves if they were aware of that horrible behavior and did nothing?

  So that’s why I protested and campaigned and showed up at every single event. That’s why I pushed past my limits and pain as a woman in her golden years who would rather be at home in her recliner. After what I had been through and what I had seen, of course I could never go back to just sitting on the sidelines. I will admit that if Eric hadn’t been murdered, I would not be where I am today. I would not have been out on the campaign trail and away from my loved ones. I would likely have been at a family cookout laughing and having a good time and enjoying the company of Eric, Ellisha, and my grandchildren, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

  However, I do think that God has a plan, and this is the one for me. I don’t know why or what it all means, but I do know that I’m giving this my best shot. I have one life, and these are the cards I’ve been dealt. I have to play them carefully, and that’s what I’m working hard to do. The main thing is that I hope Eric would be proud of what I’ve done, for him and Emery. There’s nothing I can do to bring my sons back, but, as a mother, I have to try to help make a difference. There are others fighting for change too, and many of them are better at it than I am, and they’ve been doing it for much longer.

  I am grateful to those folks, and I realize that I have to do my part. I’ve been given this experience and this platform, and I’m doing my best to use it for the greater good. If I can turn a tragedy into something positive, then I’ve done my best. If there’s anything I’ve learned from Hillary, it’s that good intentions don’t win races or get things accomplished. You have to be out there. You have to show up. Even then there are no guarantees, but you have to try.

  I was told that since people recognize me, the way April Ryan did at the CBC, that is what I need to use. I need to be seen and heard, and I need to use that recognition to get people’s attention. Once I have their attention, I can share my message and hopefully educate them. Armed with that information and that education, maybe they can take that and educate someone else and pass it along.

  One of the things Cynthia Davis taught me was that it’s all a long shot and we have to realize that. If it were easy, if it were a slam dunk, it would have been done by now. Getting people to change is not easy. People don’t like to face the ugly facts of police brutality and racism. It is not pleasant, and it’s not a fun topic. There’s no way to put a nice bow on it. It’s evil and cruel. There’s no getting around that. We need to put on our big girl drawers and deal with it. If I can do it, these folks out here in the audience watching me speak can do it too. That’s what I would try to tell them. This isn’t meant to be an emotional presentation that generates your sympathy and then you go on to your Pilates or yoga class. It’s meant to help you visualize what is happening beyond your half-acre yard and your HOA-maintained neighborhood, because it is happening everywhere.

  I won’t go into Sybrina’s story because that is hers to tell, but Trayvon was in a totally different environment than Eric was, and I think that helped to shed light on the problems with “stand your ground” and neighborhood watch programs and all of that. The lesson is that these issues are universal and can happen anywhere. It’s what we do afterward that matters. Do we just manage our grief, seal it away in a neat package, and bring it out once a year? Or do we try to tell people what is actually going on in places other than where they live?

  I’m not sure how successful I was in sharing that message with all the nice people we met on that campaign trail, but no one can say I didn’t try. That’s for sure. Whenever I could, I focused on how important it was to find solutions to these problems because, if not, it could happen to someone else’s loved one, and I did not want that to happen. I didn’t want anyone else to have to deal with the pain that I and the other mothers have had to endure.

  As one mother to another, that was the most important thing I could communicate. I did not want anyone to have to deal with these issues again. All of us mothers had endured enough pain and hurt and misery for everyone. We would gladly be the last people to ever have experienced those horrible incidents if it meant that no one else would have to suffer. That’s what mothers really do—they sacrifice themselves and their comfort for others.

  That’s what Hillary said was our strength and the message we could share with others. If there was some way we could make changes in the system, it would never be perfect, but it just might save lives and prevent further misery. Being able to turn Eric’s tragedy into even the smallest of victories would help to give it more meaning than just the sheer brutality that was foisted upon my son that day. I still can’t get over how people can conduct themselves like that and then go home to their families and to their mothers with a clear conscience. How does someone make peace with actions like that? It just astounds me every time I stop to break it down like that.

  That’s why that campaigning was so challenging. Of course, those red carpet moments and award ceremonies were much easier because I just had to lend my image to the event. I simply had to show up and make sure I was seen so that people would look at me and think, Oh, yeah, Eric Garner. That was easy, because I could help keep the awareness up without having to talk about it. On the campaign trail, my job was to relive the event over and over every single day. I had to keep telling it and keep sharing how horrible and dehumanizing it was to see my son treated that way. Losing him was almost more than I could bear.

  It felt good when people responded positively and when they came up to commiserate and console me after the programs, but that didn’t make it any easier to talk about the worst day of my life time after time after time. However, as I continued, I realized that I was stronger than I’d ever been. It happened gradually, and I didn’t realize it at first, but I did get stronger. Before this happened, I wouldn’t have imagined that I could even do this, much less keep on doing it, and in front of total strangers!

  I will say it did feel good when I looked out into the audience and saw someone connecting with what I was saying. Not necessarily just someone nodding in agreement, but when I really reached someone, when they really understood my pain and my drive and my determination, I could see it register in their concerned face. That’s when the switch flipped in my
brain. That’s when I knew that I was making a difference, and that’s why I was there.

  The final days leading up to November 8, Election Day, were busier than ever. Hillary was going nonstop, and I was doing all I could to contribute. The entire campaign was energized by the polls that continued to tout Hillary as leading her opponent, often by a large margin. I did let that get me excited, but I also didn’t take it for granted. I know enough to realize that people put out things to support how they feel, so just because a poll said she was leading didn’t mean that was the time to get comfortable. However, it did feel good to see that we were all making some sort of impact.

  By the time November 8 rolled around, I can tell you that Miss Gwen Carr was tired. I’m really not sure how Hillary did it because she, of course, made more speeches, shook more hands, and talked to many more people than I did. Also, she had to withstand all the negativity and pure nastiness sent her way. I have never seen grown folks behave so poorly. The name-calling and backstabbing just went to a level I had never seen, and it was shocking.

  I think what really hit home for me was that I couldn’t believe people would say those things about a woman they didn’t even really know. Over these many months, I had gotten to know her heart, and it was just so sad that others didn’t get to see that. She was stoic and determined and resilient, more so than anyone else I’ve ever seen before. I thought I could see it wearing on her, but that might have been my imagination because she definitely didn’t show it.

  It may have been better if she had. I know she wanted to demonstrate that she could be strong in the face of any adversity, and she was, but I kept thinking that she should use her gender and her role as a mother to her advantage. She didn’t have to be like the men who were running. The entire appeal of her was that she was different, she was empathetic, she was a mother. I had learned that on the campaign trail, that I needed to embrace my role and use that to help deliver my message. I couldn’t come across angry or like some other activists might. In my situation, that wouldn’t have worked. Connecting with folks on a personal level and as a concerned mother seemed to work for me.

  For a minute, I thought that might have been the way Hillary could have handled it. I know that if a candidate came across like that to me, it would be appealing. We all know how mothers are the complete package. We are caring and compassionate and loving, but if you threaten us or our family, we will come at you with a force like you’ve never seen.

  Maybe all that campaigning went right to my head because here I was thinking that I could give Hillary Clinton advice on how to run for president! It wasn’t really that. I knew that she was doing things the way she saw fit, and the way she handled that criticism really impressed me. As part of being in the public, I’d learned not to take everything that people said and did too personally. Many times it was out of anger or plain ignorance. The best thing to do was to try to educate folks so they had a better understanding. Anger and hostility was not the way to get things done. No one ever gets anywhere through sheer anger and bad behavior, or at least that’s what I thought until that fateful day when the election results started rolling in.

  I was at the Javits Center in Manhattan that night along with the other Mothers of the Movement. In addition, Nadia was there, along with my family and many politicians and celebrities like New York governor Andrew Cuomo, Bill de Blasio, Chuck Schumer, Cher, and Katy Perry, and of course Al Sharpton was there to support. Based on the positive poll numbers and early results that rolled in, everyone was feeling very good at the beginning of the evening. That huge facility was beautifully decorated in posters and photos and “I’m with her” banners; it was just breathtaking and felt very patriotic. Huge monitors played campaign commercials and videos, including the ones we had done.

  It was a little strange to see myself up on that huge screen, but it reminded me of the campaign and all that we had done and that made me smile. Hearing the commercials with the positive messages and uplifting themes kept our spirits up. Then we began watching the news commentary and the second-by-second breakdown of everything that happened that night. They talked about polls that had closed, the ones about to close, and the ones that would later close, and they dissected every single aspect of the process and more. I had never been so involved in a campaign and had no idea how intense things could get, especially when the results were being tabulated.

  I keep using a roller coaster as an example for a lot of the upand-down moments I experienced, but this was different. We had those early highs when results came in for Hillary, but then it went downhill and there was no coming back. With a roller coaster, you go up, come down, and then level out with a final sense of euphoria at the end. There was no euphoria that night for us. With each state that came in for the other candidate, I could just feel that things were not going to turn out as we had all hoped and prayed and worked so hard for.

  It looked so grim that I truly wanted to just leave, go home, and get in bed. But that was the old Gwen talking. I don’t do that anymore. It’s not to say that I don’t want to and that the thought doesn’t enter my mind at times. I just have to stop and remember that it won’t solve anything. I had been through so many difficult times that now, finally, I was learning how to handle things without letting the devil get his hands on my spirit. It was about staying focused and reminding myself that if I allowed that hopeless feeling into my heart, it was all over for me. I would not be able to continue my mission to share Eric’s story. There was too much at stake to allow those old ways to come back.

  Times like that, difficult times when things were not going as planned, are what the devil preys on. He searches for that weakness because he knows that means we are not as vigilant, those of us who are susceptible to depression. So no matter how sad I was at the huge red states that were flashing on the big screen, I was determined not to run away. I would face this, figure out a way to process it, and move on with my mission. I had made that promise to Eric, and I wasn’t going to let a bully stop me. I had come too far to let that happen.

  That was one of the toughest nights of my life because it meant so much not only to me but also to Eric. I saw Hillary as basically our last hope for any kind of reform for law enforcement across the country, and possibly some justice for Eric’s murder. Watching that slip away was so defeating and disheartening. I had laid it all out on that campaign trail. I shared all I could, and I tried to connect with as many people as possible. Losing that election felt like I was failing, and that was not a feeling that I liked. It just amazed me that people were willing to support hate. Of course, we later found out that there might have been other factors meddling with the results, but I don’t know a lot about that.

  What I do know is that it really seemed like once again, like so many times in our history, Black people and those who are oppressed by the system were not getting the representation that they needed. It saddened me that I wasn’t even more upset, because the fact of the matter was that people like me are used to disappointment. We are used to being treated like we are not equal and do not have the same value as people who do not look like us. Disappointment is a sad and unfortunate part of our heritage.

  The one thing that always holds true, just as it has done in Selma, and at the lunch counters, and on buses, and atop flagpoles, is that we take that disappointment, and it might slow us down for a minute, but we channel it. We have the benefit of one thing that we never wanted: We have so much experience dealing with bad news and tragedy that we have learned we can’t let it stop us. We use it as fuel to keep going and keep fighting. That’s what I realized I needed to do after that horrible night on November 8, 2016.

  I had to take what we were given and use it to continue my mission. There had to be some way to continue fighting. If it couldn’t be with Hillary, I just needed to figure out what else could be done. I had learned a lot about politics over the past year, but there was a lot I did not know. I still had hope there was something that could be done.


  That’s one of the key elements of this crazy world of activism. You have to be passionate to be successful. You have to feel the mission in your heart, and it has to be a part of your spirit, but the trick is that you can’t let the defeats stop you. That was much easier to say than do, but to be effective you have to learn how to process those setbacks and then keep on pushing forward. People would love it if, at the first sign of true adversity, we just gave up. That won’t work. It is not easy to move past the hurt after putting so much of yourself into something so close to your heart, but you just have to find a way to do that. That’s what I did.

  After the event at the Javits Center, my first step was to re-charge. I was careful not to get too comfortable, but I did allow myself to step back for a minute and get myself together. I also gave myself permission to be sad and disappointed. I had earned the right to do that, and it was important for a couple of reasons. Spending time with family and reflecting on the past year allowed me to really understand how everything had played out. I took that time to just breathe.

  I also wanted to make sure that I was in touch with what that moment felt like. I wanted to always remember that defeat because, as I progressed on my journey, I wanted to use that to stay motivated. That was not a feeling I wanted to go through again, so using it as motivation could get me through some of the other difficulties I would likely face. No matter how hurtful and painful that election was, it didn’t compare to the horrific things I had already been through. This wasn’t about to stop me.

  What I realized, and something that Nadia pointed out, was that since President Barack Obama would be leaving office in couple of months, we needed to do whatever we could before the entire administration at the White House changed over. She was right about that, and so we got to work. She helped the family draft a letter to Attorney General Loretta Lynch asking her to ensure that the U.S. Justice Department review Eric’s case and do it quickly.