This Stops Today

by Gwen Carr

  We had a press conference right after the election results, and it was attended by family members, community leaders, and local politicians supportive of our mission. It was our hope that there would be some form of federal indictment since the state of New York had failed in its mission to bring anyone to justice for killing my son. Later that month, after we had made the official announcement, we brought out a lot of home-cooked food to serve the hungry since it was Thanksgiving. We wanted to make that event a positive one where we not only asked for help from the U.S. Justice Department but also provided help to others by feeding hungry local people. Events like that were my favorite because we asked for something but gave something at the same time.

  We were not about just asking and taking, we wanted to give as well. We wanted to turn our negatives to positives. Taking those defeats and turning them around was the best way to continue our mission. So we drafted a letter and sent it to the current attorney general of the United States. That was really our last legal option to get some type of justice for Eric, and we held on to it. It was our plan to fully explore whatever we could. That is where Al Sharpton and NAN really helped, because they had been doing this for so long they knew how to navigate within the system.

  That is what we had to do—use the system to try to get justice. Of course, we had to follow protocol and work within the established framework, but I still continued to share my story, in my own way, to try to connect with people and get their help. That’s what I hoped Loretta Lynch would do. She was in a position where she could help us move forward, and I hoped as a woman that she could understand what I was going through and have some compassion.

  I know that things have to follow an established pattern, but I also know that powerful people can make things happen when they really want to. I wanted Loretta Lynch to understand how important this was to use. We needed her help and we needed it quickly, before the new administration took office and brought in new department personnel. Then we would be back to square one. That was a scary proposition because, like the rest of the country and the world, we had no idea what the incoming administration had in store.

  Here’s the letter I submitted from my heart:

  U.S. Department of Justice

  950 Pennsylvania Avenue, N

  Washington, DC 20530-0001

  Attention: Attorney General Loretta

  Lynch RE: Justice for Eric Garner—A Mother’s Cry

  Dear Attorney General Lynch:

  You are my last hope; I pray you hear my cry.

  My son Eric laid under my heartbeat for 9 months and I continued to nurture him until his last breath as an adult. For the past 2 years I have been searching for understanding as to why this tragedy found me and the answer has yet to become clear. Instead, I’m meeting mothers whose tragedies are similar to my own. As the tears fall from my eyes, my body grows weak. But, I still find the strength to put my arms around these mothers. The look of despair in their eyes mirrors my own and their tears become my tears. Attorney General Lynch, they look to me for hope, just as I am to you.

  Visualize my cry for help after I read my son’s autopsy report. It said that the cause of his death was a “homicide”—this means “a deliberate and unlawful killing of a person by another.” Imagine my tears as I watched the video of my son’s last moments breathing. Yes, the world heard my son say eleven times, “I can’t breathe.” But he also said, “this stops today.” Does it?

  Despite the recent political upset, I ask that your intervention as the Attorney General of the United States of America be the light of hope for our country by setting the precedent that these injustices will not be tolerated and that those responsible must held accountable. Please hear my cry, don’t allow my son’s words and our tears to be in vain.

  I’ve been living in a nightmare and crying for over 2 years and I’m ready to awake to peace.

  Respectfully,

  Gwen Carr

  Mother of Eric Garner

  Chapter 9

  Mother to Mother

  The cost of liberty is less than the price of repression.

  —W. E. B. Du Bois

  I THOUGHT I HAD SEEN SOME dark days in my life, but nothing compared to January 2017 when my president, Barack Obama, left office and the newly elected one moved in. I was glad there weren’t many people to show up for the inauguration because I didn’t blame them. It was not easy to see our hope walk out those doors. Hillary’s defeat was very hard to accept, but, just like with the video of Eric, actually seeing it happen made it all very real. My plans for a compassionate administration that would give our case a fair chance seemed to be evaporating before my eyes. While I had learned long ago not to make assumptions about folks, from what I had seen and heard so far, I didn’t have a lot of confidence that we would get the help we needed from the new White House resident.

  The previous administration left without making any advances in Eric’s case. We found out that if the attorney general got involved, it would be a conflict of interest, so there wasn’t much they could do. We were advised to be patient and let the justice system work. That sure didn’t give me a lot of confidence.

  I wasn’t following a roadmap on this journey, so I never knew what twists and turns awaited me. It was my hope that we would one day soon get some justice for Eric’s death. Then I’d figure out what to do next. If that did happen and those involved were forced to take responsibility, what then? What would I do? Would I continue this path of activism? I wasn’t really sure. It could all just stop. I hadn’t mapped out a plan of what-ifs (if this happened, I would respond in one way, and if something else occurred, I’d respond in a different way). That’s not how it was.

  I don’t know whether other activists are strategic, but I continued to trust my instincts as a mother. For me, one thing that did help was to take stock of what had happened in the previous year. That gave me a little clarity on what was successful, and what wasn’t, and possibly helped lead me down the right path in the new year.

  Putting so much of myself into that campaign was something I’d never change, because even though I did not see the outcome I had worked so hard for, I did reach many people. I met and talked with so many folks across the country, and I knew I had made a difference with lots of them. That was something to celebrate. I’d also met many powerful and influential people who listened and learned more about my mission. To me, all of that continued to lay the groundwork for the future. Each experience was another layer on the cake, and eventually that victory would be sweet.

  Until then, I wasn’t ready to give up. I could take all I had learned and try to use that to effect change, no matter how small. It felt like pieces of a huge jigsaw puzzle. Sometimes I could clearly see how certain experiences fit together. Other times I knew that there was a connection but wasn’t exactly sure where it would fit to complete the picture. I realized that it was all right, though, because if it was meant to be, and if it was in God’s plan, it would all become clear to me at the proper moment.

  For me, working with Hillary’s campaign did something that I had never expected. Prior to that, I had gathered with the other mothers on several occasions, most of them arranged by the National Action Network, Al Sharpton, or another civil liberties group. It was good for us because we came together with a similar message, and delivering it as a group got us more attention and helped to generate a conversation. The members were very fluid, and while some joined in more often than others, they all did what worked for them.

  When Hillary and her campaign called us to that meeting in Chicago, there were about a dozen of us there. By getting us together and talking about what we could accomplish as a group, she helped to validate the mission we had started, and she helped us to see the power we shared collectively. Having a candidate for president come to us and ask for our help meant that we held even more potential than I ever realized. She was coming to us and asking us to come along on the ride with her. That meant that we were getting our message out th
ere loudly enough for her to take notice.

  Then, once on the campaign trail, I really got to know the other ladies much better. Before that, we had exchanged pleasantries and shared meals after some of the events, but we didn’t know each other very well as people. We knew of the pain we had each endured, and the struggles, and challenges, because we talked about those right away. However, I never knew them as women. For me, that changed once we were traveling around the country. We spent a lot of time together and shared a lot of experiences, good and bad.

  We didn’t always get welcoming receptions. Some people were negative and didn’t necessarily like the messages we delivered. That was fine with me because I didn’t expect everyone to understand, but I didn’t like the negative and hostile comments that were sometimes directed our way. For the most part, though, it was very positive, and it felt good to share all of that with the other ladies. I think we all knew that was a unique opportunity that had been placed in front of us. We were on the world stage, our words being transmitted all over. That was an amazing feeling.

  To know that we were reaching people beyond the walls of a local event was a big responsibility and also a huge accomplishment for us. We had each been effective in our own way, but together, with this platform, it felt like we were really making a difference. Win or lose, our message would remain unchanged, as it always had. We wanted justice for our loved ones and protection for others. Losing an election wouldn’t change that, and it wouldn’t change us.

  With each event and the more we shared of ourselves, the stronger our bond became. We learned about each other’s families and hopes and dreams. It was interesting to hear how the other women had been handling the changes that come with these horrible incidents. I handled things the way that worked for me, and hearing the other stories gave me insight into how they approached things. We all had different outlooks and approaches. Other differentiators were our family situations and the tragedy itself.

  With Eric, it was very public and very prolific. You couldn’t help but hear about it. There was no avoiding it because of the video and because it happened in such a huge city like New York. That amplified everything and helped to keep it in the news because everything, even the local events, played out in the national news that comes out of the city. One of the first components of activism is visibility. That was not an issue for me because my cause was very clear each time that video was played. Some of the other situations were not as public or occurred in small towns where they didn’t get the same amount of press coverage. So many of the women had to educate people first on what happened and why it was important. They did a great job of that—it was just one of the differences I noticed.

  Another one was unfortunately when the incident happened. As with any criminal case, the older it gets, the less attention and focus tends to be on it, which is sad and can feel very defeating. I had concerns about that initially. Just because Eric’s death was so public, the horrible reality was that there were more happening every day and each one demanded the attention of the public. At some point there is a level of saturation and sheer fatigue. People get tired of the sad, heartbreaking stories. I understood that reality because until it happened to me, I felt that way too. Each time I heard about another shooting or attack or death, I felt horrible for the victim and their family, but I didn’t know what else to do, and I could only take so much before I wanted to tune it out.

  I guess that’s human nature, maybe a form of survival. We can only process so much bad news and negativity at a time. I was discovering that understanding some of the inner workings of human nature was very helpful because it clarified and validated a lot of my experiences. That didn’t change the fact that one of our issues was keeping our cases out there in the news. Interest meant awareness and awareness meant a possibility of resolution. There were a lot of things to think about. It was a lot more than telling our story and then leaving. So much more.

  As I learned more about the women, we formed a true connection and unity. The core group was me, Sybrina, Geneva, Lucy, Maria, and Cleo, but others came when possible. The more events we did, the more often we were recognized and the more welcoming our reception. It almost took on a life of its own by the sheer momentum that was propelled by the campaign. We were along for the ride, but we were there for the big picture. It was about much more than politics and winning an election. This was our lives and our families’ lives that we were putting out there every day. We had to bare our souls each time with the hope that those listening would receive the message we were trying to convey. I also found it very helpful to observe the other ladies and how they handled everything. It was inevitable that we would compare notes and ask each other for critiques on how we were doing. When I first started out, I felt so uncomfortable and lost out there on a stage. I know that I wasn’t polished and professional—probably the exact opposite!

  That was all right, though, because it worked for me. People responded to my obvious reluctance to be in that situation. That was the truth. I was reluctant to be there because I didn’t want to have to be there. I didn’t want that to be my reality, but it was. So I had to make peace with that and then develop myself the best I could. Saying it was a learning experience and an evolution is an understatement. That’s why I am so adamant about others getting out there and doing the same thing. I encourage others to get active because, like Cynthia Davis taught me, a lot of it is about just showing up.

  I was proof that despite my hesitancy, I was making the most of it and doing things my way. That might not be what works for someone else, but that is just fine. It is about finding what is most comfortable for your personality and your experiences. For me, since Eric’s death was so physical and violent and aggressive, I did not want to come across like that. First of all, that’s not my personality, so it would go against my nature. Also, while that might be the way others choose to do things, I felt that took away from my message of fairness and education.

  For me, it seemed like people were open to receiving the message I was trying to convey if I did it my way, coming across direct but soft spoken and sure of myself. People would tell me that I came across as a concerned mother, and they related to that. So that was my way of sharing the message of police reform and brutality. By example, I was showing that the issue could be addressed in a calm, mature manner. Truthfully, sometimes inside I just wanted to scream at them: “How could you allow this to happen to my son? How is this acceptable behavior? How do you sleep at night?”

  I guess we all have moments like that when we are doing things one way, but on the inside—oh, if we could just let it all out, it would feel so good. However, I couldn’t allow myself that brief moment of satisfaction because it could undermine all of my work. There were already some folks in the Black Lives Matter movement taking a more aggressive approach. I let them do it their way, and I did it mine. Hopefully our combined efforts and different methods of delivery would get results. Plus, if there were times when I did feel the need to vent, Ben and the rest of my family were always there to listen.

  Touring as a group helped bring us mothers together in more of a cohesive unit. We remained pliable, with some joining and some sitting events out, but it was like we had a rhythm going where when one of us was absent, someone else could fill in and make sure our message was covered. Just because it wasn’t one woman’s own experience didn’t mean that she couldn’t bring up the topic, often mentioning the other mother as an example people could relate to. As we got to know each other better, we were able to fill in for each other and help the audience connect the dots. We developed our own unspoken cues where we knew when to jump in or add to the conversation. We all tried to give each other plenty of time to talk and share, but we also made sure to back each other up and show support.

  It was important for us to come across exactly as we were, mothers from different backgrounds and situations with our only initial similarities being the death of our children and the fact that we were Black. As we
got to know each other, we learned about each of our unique strengths and challenges. So when we needed to lean on each other, we could do that, knowing we all had that sisterhood and connection.

  Like any group of people who come together based purely on circumstance, we were not all instant, lifelong friends. That was the truth. We discovered that we are all strong, confident women in our own right and with our own opinions. Those who chose to travel and campaign with Hillary agreed with her message and supported her, so we had that in common. That was another thing that united us. Some did not join her simply because that was not right for them. Hillary certainly understood that and made it very clear on that day in Chicago that if we were not 100 percent behind her and her mission, the campaign trail was not for us. Only those who truly wanted to be there should go. The others could pursue whatever worked for them. There was no pressure for all of us to be the same and believe the same things.

  There were members of my family who supported Bernie Sanders, Hillary’s Democratic opponent, so I understood that not everyone was going to feel the same way. I handled that like everything else: I let them be and understood that they had a right to their beliefs and I had a right to mine. To me, that’s part of being a family, understanding that just because we are all related doesn’t mean we think the same and agree on everything. What it does mean is that we put aside those differences when the time comes and focus on being together.

  As far as the Mothers of the Movement are concerned, I don’t know whether it was Hillary’s plan all along, but bringing us on the road with her really helped our group come together in many ways. Previously, if there was an event in another city and a mother couldn’t get there, she didn’t attend. It was more a matter of logistics and finances. On the campaign trail, Hillary’s team made sure that we got to every event we wanted to go to. That removed the issues of geography and finances. As I had learned as an activist, the best way to get people to show up is to make it as convenient as possible. That’s what Hillary’s camp did by making sure that we were all in the same place at the same time.