This Stops Today

by Gwen Carr

  I can’t imagine what I would do if I participated in a project and was then disappointed with the final product. They had my son’s memory in their hands and they would be reaching a wide audience, so I had cause to be concerned. When I was sharing my story of Eric, I could control what I said and how I responded to questions. After filming scenes and sitting for interviews, I had to put my trust in them to come up with something that paid tribute to my son. I did not approach the project without carefully weighing the pros and cons. Naturally, Nadia stayed involved with the production company and continued to relay my concerns prior to its airing on national television.

  By January 2018, the first episode was ready, and, just as Nadia had predicted, there was a lot of publicity. It was hyped everywhere, and with Viola Davis involved it continued to generate interest. Nadia accompanied me to the premiere in Los Angeles as part of the NAACP Image Awards. TV host Roland Martin was the moderator, and I spoke on a panel about the episode along with the production company. As often happened, I was the family member there to represent Eric even though other relatives appeared on the episode, even Ben and Ellisha. Al Sharpton was also included, which I appreciated since he had been there from day one.

  It was interesting watching that premiere and seeing how we were portrayed. As promised, they took care to show us with as few edits as possible, so I was happy with how we came across, and I was proud of how everyone conducted themselves since I hadn’t seen their interviews before then. I understood why they included interviews with experts that represented the point of view of the police department, even though I didn’t particularly like what they said. I argued with everything they said under my breath, but I stayed calm and composed. Just because there were two sides didn’t mean that they were both the right side.

  After I returned home, the show aired on TV One the next week, and we all gathered around to watch it. When it was over, I received so many calls from people eager to share their opinion of the program with me. Not everyone loved it, but they all thought it was well done and balanced. It was a huge relief because I was so nervous about how it would turn out. That week it debuted, I accompanied Julius Tennon and some people from the production company and TV One to do some national publicity for the show. We were on the Megyn Kelly Show first, then countless other TV shows followed by a slew of radio interviews. It was a busy week. Fortunately, it was all in New York, so I didn’t have to go too far. Once again, I found myself as the default representative for the family, a role I was becoming accustomed to, just like my unplanned activism.

  Next, I filmed a segment on an episode of the series The Quad , which airs on BET and focuses on campus life at a fictional HBCU named Georgia A&M University, with a group of diverse students. The episode I am in deals with police brutality and is very powerful. There’s even a rap song that accompanies the episode, and I narrate some of the lyrics and the beginning and the end of the song. That was another of Nadia’s “gets” for me as she continues helping me connect with people and, most important, keep Eric Garner’s name out there.

  Sometimes I stop and think about everything that has happened after July 17, 2014, that fateful day when my son was taken from me. I would never have imagined that I’d be doing some of the things that I’ve done or gone to the places I’ve visited or met the incredible people who have crossed paths with me. There has been so much support and guidance and love along the way that it opened me up to a whole new life at a time when I had expected to retire and take it easy. Before all of this happened, I thought that maybe I would do some traveling. I’d often tease that I was going to move away to a life of leisure, but I know that I’ll never leave smoggy old New York.

  These days I’m much more protective of my daughter Ellisha, even though she has her own life and doesn’t need me interfering, but that’s a mother’s job. All the time, I tell her to be careful because she is all I have left. I stress that a lot of people just say, “Be careful,” but that I really mean that she needs to pay attention and use good judgment at all times. If I hear about a bus crash or some other emergency in the city, I call immediately to check on her. I need her to stay around. I don’t need anything to happen to my baby girl.

  She will call often just to check on me and see how I’m doing. She will tell me a silly joke or something funny that one of the kids has done. She says that her two boys are like the way Eric and Emery used to be. It’s like they are back in a different form. I don’t mean to do it, but sometimes I do call Mikey “Eric” and I’ll refer to Junior as “Emery,” and they will answer me! I’m sure they think Grandma is just being silly, but it makes me feel good when they respond to those names.

  It hasn’t all been lights and cameras. There was a situation when I was attending a commemoration in Oakland, California. I was in the airport and received an anonymous phone call saying that my daughter had been kidnapped and the caller wanted me to give them money. That was scary because I couldn’t get hold of Ellisha and had to get the authorities involved so they could locate her. Someone finally found her, and a nice police officer at the airport helped to facilitate everything and then calm me down. I appreciated him like I appreciate all responsible, caring law enforcement officers.

  Situations like that come about because, for some reason, people have the misguided notion that I received money from a settlement. I guess it’s a common thought that if a relative is involved in a situation like mine, we all get some type of payout. I can promise you that is not the case. Sometimes there are settlements and sometimes not. In Eric’s case there was a settlement awarded, but not to me. It went to his wife and children. I was not part of that, and many of the other mothers have similar stories. If your child is killed and he’s an adult with his own family, those are his immediate relatives, and they are the recipients. I suppose it shouldn’t come as a surprise that, as mothers, we are last in line. It’s another sacrifice we gladly make. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against having money, but it’s not my goal in life. After all that has happened to me, I’ve learned to take things as they come and be grateful and thankful for each day. Life and family are too precious to take for granted.

  Cynthia Davis still marvels about how far I’ve come since we started out on those lonely days standing out in front of the Staten Island post office. She pushed me and said that she knew I could do it. She has even asked me to run for office, but I’m not ready for something like that. I was thrust into this activist life, and I’m not in it to win it. I’m fighting for those who can’t. She calls me a champion and a soldier.

  Nadia told me that she’s seen my speaking style change. In the beginning, sometimes I would be worried about what to say or how to say it, but with her encouragement I’ve come a long way. Tragedy has fueled me and pushed me beyond my limits. Recently I had a huge speaking event at Nassau Community College. I thought that I was speaking to a classroom or a small department, and it turned out to be in front of thousands. I couldn’t believe what I had to do. Nadia helped me get my talking points together, but I didn’t rehearse or write anything down. I just gave them me, and that seemed to be exactly what they wanted.

  Ben says that I’ve turned Eric’s death into strength and started fighting for him and for everybody who no longer has a voice. He promised that he would stand by me on my new journey even though neither of us had any idea what to expect, and we still don’t. Things change every day. New opportunities come up and there are also many disappointments as well, but I’m handling those much better these days. Somehow, by going through all of this, I’ve learned how to handle sadness and disappointment without letting it overtake me. Maybe that’s one of the lessons I’m supposed to take away from this life. This has taught me how to be a better version of myself.

  Now I’ve come to terms with the fact that this is what I do. Maybe this was my calling, and I just never knew it. As the mother of two deceased sons, I’ve had to get used to a lot of things, but one of the most difficult was the way people refer t
o me in person and in print. In person, I’m always “Eric Garner’s mother.” Sometimes my actual name is mentioned as “Gwen Carr, Eric Garner’s mother.” It took some getting used to, not because I don’t want to be mentioned alongside Eric, but it almost became my identity. Before “that day” happened, I was just Gwen Carr. Now it’s different.

  In print it’s even stranger because all of us mothers are identified by our child who has died. I’m always “Gwen Carr (Eric Garner).” That took a little getting used to, but I realized that it was the easiest way to communicate who we were, who I was, but it also meant that I was always reminded of my loss, a perennial parenthetical.

  As a mother, that was yet another adjustment I made, another sacrifice I gladly accepted. That is what I have always done and what most mothers do. We give of ourselves for the betterment of others, especially our families. Sometimes it’s a thankless job, and sometimes it’s filled with grief, but it’s the only thing I ever wanted to be. To give birth and watch that child grow to an adult is one of God’s blessings, and one that I cherish every day. I always knew that I would be a mother, even from a very young age. It was always part of me. Just like Eric will always be a part of me.

  Chapter 10

  The Unplanned Activist

  If there is no struggle, there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and deprecate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground, they want rain without thunder and lightning.

  —Frederick Douglass

  I DON’T PRETEND TO BE AN expert in the field of activism—actually, just the opposite. I’m still a novice, still learning every day. Each event or speech or TV show is a new experience that helps me learn more about myself and those around me. I just try to do my best with each opportunity. I figure that if I keep getting asked to do more things, then I must be doing something right. My message must be resonating with others; they must be able to relate to my story.

  I never planned to become an activist; it just happened. I could have chosen to look the other way, to do something else with my retirement years, but that was not how I wanted to spend my life. I retired from my full-time job, but I didn’t retire from life. I still want things to be better for future generations, and for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I hope that no other family has to go through what I’ve been through.

  I suppose I could just sit back and live off my pension and have a decent life, maybe move to Florida and soak up the sunshine. That’s probably what I would have done had “that day” not happened, or at least that’s what I used to say. Instead, I have found myself in some rather incredible situations and met some amazing people, all because I chose not to sit on the sidelines.

  I don’t think I’m particularly brave or strong, but I am a mother, and trusting my instincts as a parent has served me well. That’s what helped me decide to get involved. As a mother, as Eric’s mother, I couldn’t just watch while other people got involved. How could I do that to Eric and his memory?

  This is what I’ve learned over the past few years.

  BECOMING AN ACTIVIST

  •Find your motivation. This was the most important and the first piece of the puzzle. You should be getting involved because it’s important to you. I learned from being around so many activists that if your heart isn’t in it, then it won’t work for you.

  •Start slow. This was important for me because I was still reeling from my son’s death—I still am—but I knew that I needed to take things slowly at first and see how it worked out for me. I didn’t want to jump in feet first just to quit if things didn’t work out. I eased into it, attended some marches, and went from there.

  •Follow the leader. You might have a lot of ideas about how to implement your ideas, but you should find someone who has been doing it for a while and learn from them. Find out what has worked for them and what hasn’t. That doesn’t mean that you will do exactly the same, but you can learn from others. If they are passionate about the cause, they will be glad to share what they know with you.

  •There is safety in numbers. Join an existing group or create one of your own. One of the most impactful ways to create some kind of change is to show that a lot of people feel the same way. That doesn’t mean that you can’t go it alone. Cynthia and I spent many evenings with just the two of us, but we were glad when others finally started to join.

  •Buckle your seatbelt. Activism is an unpredictable and often emotional roller coaster full of highs and lows. Actually, it’s more like lows and lows, and maybe a high every once in a while. It’s tough work and takes time to get into the groove, but if you stick with it, the rewards are worth the effort.

  •Keep your cool. It’s easy to let your emotions take over and react without thinking, but it’s important to keep calm. Being an activist can generate negativity from those who don’t feel the same way you do. Getting caught up in that can lead to physical confrontations, and that should not be part of your mission. Violence doesn’t solve anything.

  •Pass it on. If you are successful and enjoy getting involved, part of your mission should be educating others and working to bring them aboard with you. Activism is best when it’s passed down to others because they have a good understanding of what they’re getting into after having watched what you are doing.

  •Trust your instincts. Any time I’ve had to make a decision about what to do or even whether to keep going, I stop and take stock, pray, and come to my own conclusion. I can feel when something is right for me. That doesn’t mean it’s always the best decision, but it does mean that I’m content with my choice. And if that’s the case, then I can sleep at night knowing I’ve done my best.

  •Don’t compromise yourself. This is the most important thing I have learned along the way. People think that if you are an activist, you need to act a certain way. You need to be loud and aggressive and pushy. I can tell you that is not the case. That’s initially why I didn’t feel like activism was right for me, because that is not my personality. However, I quickly realized that I could use my strengths to get results. Sometimes when you are quieter, people listen even more closely. I felt like my form of compassionate activism worked for me. You have to find what works best for you without changing who you are. Your individuality is the most important thing you can offer. Make it work for you.

  Everything I do is to preserve the memory of my sons and to ensure that they are not forgotten. Until the killings stop, I will keep on talking and telling my story as long as people will listen. I realize that I may not always have such a large platform, that folks might get tired of hearing me talk about my loss. If that happens, I will make peace with it because I’ll know that I’ve done all I can.

  A Letter to My Son

  I WRITE THIS LETTER IN MEMORY of you, Eric.

  I carried you for nine months, loved you, cherished you, and protected you. Even as an adult, you were still my baby, no matter how old or big you may have been. You were still a respectful, intelligent, and devoted son who grew up to be the family’s lawyer and advocate. I miss you greatly.

  I still can’t believe that you are gone, gone forever; that’s just not the way it should be.

  Eric, you were supposed to bury me. These tears I cry for you should have been yours weeping for your dearly departed mother. It’s just not right. The day you left this earth is one I will never forget. I replay that day in my mind over and over, moment by moment, word for word. It is engraved permanently in my heart; the ache is so deep inside and never goes away.

  I hear it mentioned often that “time is supposed to heal your pain,” but if I’m being honest, I hope it will remain. I need to feel you constantly just to get through the day. Your life was stolen. That really wasn’t fair. They took my firstborn, my future, my heir. If only they had asked if I would take your place, I would have done it willingly, leaving you this world to grace. I pray that you are happy. I pray that you are safe. I pray to God each night to wrap you and keep you in his awesome embrace.r />
  My life without you is empty and dark; the light that once shone has gone out in my heart. Sometimes I hear your laughter. Sometimes I hear you crying out for me and I say, “Oh, God, why wasn’t I there for my son?”

  Then God answers, “It was not for you to be there that day, Gwen, because they may have had to bury the two of you. Then who would have been left back here to uplift your son Eric’s name? Who would be fighting for justice and to change laws for those who will come after him? Who will continue to say his name if you are not here? So I’m leaving you to fight the good fight and be a blessing to others, so now your pain will have a purpose.”

  So, Eric, I am fighting for justice, although if and when it comes it is no justice for you, but for me it will be closure, knowing I tried to do right by you and all the others, the nameless, the faceless, and all those whom the world doesn’t recognize. I still wait for answers. I pray to God for courage and for him to strengthen my faith so I can proceed on this journey. I know I can’t go higher until I’ve been through the fire, so I’m going to take off my shoes and walk on these burning coals. I know God will keep me, as he did the three in the Bible whom they tried to set on fire.

  My son, the world knows what you went through; their eyes are open. There is more awareness, more movement because of you. God saw fit for you to become the sacrificial lamb to bring about this uprising. Who would have thought I would have been the vessel that carried you for nine months and everyone in the world would know your name? So, son, I hold this hurt, but it will continue to energize me.

  So long for now, but not forever.

  Loving you always.