The Young Witch Says Black Lives Matter

Ariel Johnson
Jun 2, 2020
2 min read

I was 14 when Trayvon Martin was shot and killed for absolutely nothing. I was 16 years old when his murderer was acquitted. I remember being on a family vacation in a hotel room watching it on TV. I remember scrolling through my Facebook and seeing one of the moms of a former friend of Facebook say, Trayvon deserved it. I couldn't believe that then. I thought the facts were clear that it was in fact a murder.

I was 16 when children from unaccredited school districts were allowed to enroll in accredited school districts. I thought this was great. I was once a transfer student who

was given an opportunity to go to a better district. Shouldn't they? Yet, I saw parents saying horrible things about these kids. Students say horrible things about people they never met. That same friends I talked about earlier asked why couldn't they just stay at their school. I told her I was once a transfer student. She looked at me and went "Well..." I knew what she meant. I was white. They were not.

I was 17 when Mike Brown was shot and killed. I was at a sleepover. Protests had started raging in Ferguson. My dad had me taking pictures of all the protests he could find along his way. We covered his death so much that year. I watched my school become divided and all I could think was this guy was murdered and no one knows the story because none of the witnesses on either side could keep the story straight, the officer isn't telling it and the only other person who could say it, was murdered, and that's not fair.

I watched on my couch the Monday before Thanksgiving as they announced they would not indict the killer and thinking "Of course they did." I remember getting the call I wouldn't be going to school the next day for fear of protests. I remember that Friday being at the mall and hearing the protests coming and my dad sending me out with my camera phone telling me to go get pictures. I remember being nervous, but doing it.

I remember the first school protest I went to and took pictures of. I ran around following them as they marched. I saw and felt their hurt and anger then and I see and feel that same anger now.

As a primarily white women, I recognize that I have a privilege that few do. I must use my voice to amplify others. I must stand for the oppressed and refuse to allow these injustices to stand.

We can not be silent. We cannot let this stand. We have to say and know Black Lives Matter. We have to confront these issues of police brutality and this broken justice system that allows for murders to get away scotch free. We must protest. We must rebel. We must resist.