Name: 'We're all in this together': Marchers come from different backgrounds, but unite in plea for meaningful change
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'We're all in this together': Marchers come from different backgrounds, but unite in plea for meaningful change

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Milwaukee Journal SentinelThey have shown up by the thousands, day after day.&nbsp;Foreheads dripping with sweat, noses covered in sunscreen, eyes filled with anger or impatience or frustration.Or maybe hope.&nbsp;Since the May 25 death of George Floyd after a Minneapolis police officer knelt on his neck for nearly nine minutes, protesters have marched in Milwaukee and Madison, in suburbs and smaller communities throughout Wisconsin.&nbsp;Milwaukee's unrest was perhaps a foregone conclusion.The list of controversial deaths at the hands of police is deep: Derek Williams in 2011, Dontre Hamilton in 2014, Sylville Smith in 2016, Joel Acevedo just last month, and many more in between. And the city, for all its graces, is steeped in segregation, poverty, trauma, questionable housing and inconsistent schools.&nbsp;A&nbsp;pandemic like no other had kept people at home, had taken away jobs, had hit communities of color particularly hard, had created a powder keg of frustration. Floyd's death was the flash point, so brazen and ugly, and yet reminiscent of so much other mistreatment of African Americans across the country and here at home.&nbsp;Each protester had a story, a motivation, and yet their goals were similar: Justice, fairness, meaningful change. Here are some of those voices from the streets.Nina Cleveland pushed a stroller with two young children inside. Her young teenager walked alongside her.“What happened to George, I couldn’t believe what I was watching," Cleveland said as car horns blared, drums thumped and passersby chanted along South&nbsp;Kinnickinnic Avenue.&nbsp;"Somebody had no care for life at all and the smirk on his (Officer Derek Chauvin's)&nbsp;face … I mean I&nbsp;work with innocent kids, I’ve worked with them for over 20 years."I was at the Boys &amp; Girls Club and now I’m a teacher at Milwaukee&nbsp;College Prep and I see little boys every single&nbsp;day. You know,&nbsp;we’ve been gone because of the coronavirus, but I work with them and I see the good in them and for somebody to have no care at all for his life, it made me think about my students, made me think about my previous students, and my own two sons.”&nbsp;Cleveland said it was disheartening to see that none of the other officers in the video were doing anything to even help or intervene.&nbsp;&nbsp;Referring to slavery, she said: "We didn't ask to come here in the first place, they brought us over here, and then you&nbsp;try to snuff us out by everything&nbsp;possible — economically, educationally, everything.”Cleveland said she wants to show her kids that there are times a person needs to stand up for a cause, and for her, this is one of those times. She also wanted her students to know their voice matters.“You matter just as much as they do,” she said. “You have to let your voice be heard in the right way. Looting and all that stuff is not the right way to do it because your message is cut off. But if you do it the right way and show them that we are in this together, that we’re going to keep doing this until something happens, then a change is eventually going to come.”&nbsp; &nbsp;She said she doesn’t know if a change will happen in her&nbsp;lifetime, but she hopes change will come in her kids'&nbsp;lifetime.&nbsp; And she was particularly pleased to see people of all racial and ethnic backgrounds coming together."I'm just so happy to see so many races besides just black people here, in that it shows that we're all in this together," she said. "We need them to be with us, because we tried by ourselves and it doesn't work."&nbsp;&nbsp;Jasmine Cruz protected her mouth and nose with a mask that couldn't be missed — dark lettering on a baby blue mask that read: "I can't breathe." She handed out sunblock and masks and other supplies to protesters who needed them.The words echo Floyd's plea as he tried to get relief from Minneapolis police.Several years ago, Cruz’s then-boyfriend, who is black, was pulled over in St. Francis while Cruz was in the car. Police asked Cruz if she was OK, and she responded: "Why wouldn't I be OK?" Police immediately told him to get out of the car, searched him, searched the vehicle, but didn't search her. When they were done, the officers told them to have a nice day and left with no explanation.Cruz said she and her boyfriend were&nbsp;left&nbsp;with so many questions and no answers about what had just happened.“Racism is out there,” she said, standing in the midst of protesters gathered at Humboldt Park. “(People need)&nbsp;to stop holding their breaths and closing their mouths, and just speak up when bad things are happening in front of them. Feel empowered to do that.”&nbsp;More peace. It’s what Terry Thompson hopes to see come from all of this. Not just in Milwaukee, but throughout the world.“If there is no peace, there is just a lot of hate and a lot of crime,” he said. “More love, more peace. I think that there would be less crime in the world and less hatred in the world.”&nbsp;Thompson is a member of the Salt &amp; Light Christian group affiliated with&nbsp;Oak Creek Assembly of God Church.&nbsp;“Over the last few years, there’s been a lot of injustice going on. Whether people are dying from killing one another or if there’s police brutality or fatalities, now’s the time for the justice system, the leaders of the city, the leaders from our churches, to step up and make sure that justice is&nbsp;served righteously,” he said during a gathering at Washington Park.&nbsp;“God calls us in the Holy Bible to be the salt and light of the world, to share His word, to share His love and to&nbsp;share His gospel,” Thompson said.&nbsp;While the protests will ultimately end, Thompson said, his group will continue to share the love.“We want to make sure that black lives do matter, and that all lives that God created, in his image, everyone matters, including our local police officers and our first responders,” he said.Alondra Garcia&nbsp;joined in a couple of protests, and then a third, and then a fourth.The second-grade teacher at Allen-Field Elementary School said she was not tired.“I represent a couple of educators who can’t go out because they have health problems,&nbsp;or they work and have a second job,” she said.Garcia said she is also protesting for her students, who started learning about Black Lives Matter in February.&nbsp;&nbsp;“Your teacher is out here making your voices be heard,” Garcia said, directing her comments to her students.&nbsp;“As an educator, I realized I need to speak out&nbsp;about racism.”&nbsp;It takes teamwork&nbsp;from people of all backgrounds&nbsp;to create change, Garcia said.&nbsp;&nbsp;“We need to be together. We need to join hands together. That’s the only way we’re going to stop racism.”&nbsp;One of Garcia's goals is to get more people of color to vote — something she can't do. Garcia is protected under DACA, which stands for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals. That means she's considered a permanent resident, but not a citizen, and has no right to participate in elections.“We need to make sure we’re electing the right people into office," she said. "Not just white people because that’s how this political world works.”Since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, the only activity at Honeypie Cafe&nbsp;has been filling&nbsp;takeout orders for people waiting at the door.&nbsp;But as marchers walked by on Kinnickinnic Avenue,&nbsp;owner Valerie Lucks stood in front of the infamous mint green pig on the Bay View restaurant front window, chanting and clapping for the crowd. Next to her was a large table full of water, snacks and signature cookies for those walking by. &nbsp;&nbsp;“It’s time for everyone to speak up,” Lucks said. “We have a very diverse staff of people who work for us. Many of our employees are marching today. We closed the business so that they could join in the protests. This is meaningful to every one of us. It touches everyone who works with us.” &nbsp;Lucks said while she doesn't have personal experience of racism directed at her she&nbsp;has experienced sexism and hatred. &nbsp;“I can’t equate that to the same thing that black people experience, but that pain breaks my heart,” she said. &nbsp;Lucks said the marchers filled her with pride. &nbsp;“I’ve seen so many of our neighbors out here right now, marching in the streets, that everyone in this neighborhood cares about what happens in this city,” she said. “It makes me proud of everybody.”We shall overcome. It’s the lesson Angela Harris is now virtually teaching her first-graders from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Elementary School.Over Zoom classroom meetings three times a week, Harris is having conversations with her students about the nationwide Black Lives Matter protests after the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis.The class started to read “We Shall Overcome: The Story of A Song” this week. The book, written by Debbie Levy, traces the song's roots from slavery to emancipation to Jim Crow to the civil rights era and into today.&nbsp;“I feel like it is my goal, my desire, to want to create a world where I’m not just saying that my children matter, but the world is actually showing my children that they matter," she said. "The world is showing my students that they matter. I want it to be more than just words.”Harris said the Black Lives Matter movement is particularly important to her because she is a mother of three, including a son. She understands what it means "to have the fear that my children will walk out one day and not return to me, or have the fear that one of my students may leave my classroom and not come back because we live in a world where they are viewed as a threat and not&nbsp;a human being.”When the protests are done and "we are all marched out and we go&nbsp;home," Harris said, that is the time to call legislators and start holding them accountable for real change in policies. If they don't make those changes, it would be time to "flex our political muscle" and elect people who will reach out to those who are most marginalized.“I want to see a world where we are re-imagining what this world looks like,” she said. “Where everyone matters, where we all feel valued, our lives are center, and we are all realizing what is supposed to be that American dream.”For Harris, that American dream is not the traditional white picket fence and two-car garage.“It is an America where all cultures, all races, all genders are living and thriving and are free to live the lives they want to live,” Harris said. &nbsp;Years from now, Harris hopes that she can say, “I planted the seed that created the future that we wanted.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Amid the maze of messages waved, held high or hung from cars,&nbsp;Al Rangel’s sign stood&nbsp;out.&nbsp;&nbsp;Scrawled on a wrinkled piece of cardboard, it read: “Ain't no black power when your baby is killed by a coward," a line from&nbsp;“XXX.”&nbsp;by Kendrick Lamar. The song references the killing of the son of Lamar’s close friend, and more generally, being black in America.&nbsp;It resonates with Rangel, who is Latino and has 5-year-old black nephew.“He’s big, so honestly it scares me for a day when people stop considering him a kid,” Rangel said. “I don’t want to be fearing for my nephew’s life.”&nbsp;Rangel said he is protesting for the lives of his friends and family, who are mostly&nbsp;black and&nbsp;brown and live in fear every day.&nbsp;“I just want to live how white people live, and I’m not scared to say&nbsp;that,” Rangel said. “White people don’t have to go the store and be looked at by security cameras, by security officers. I’m sick and tired of that. I just want to be treated equally.”&nbsp;&nbsp;Nellie Workman grew up in a suburb outside of Chicago.&nbsp;“I grew up in a pretty racist neighborhood called Mount Greenwood, where a black family moved in and they had a brick thrown through the window," said Workman, who is white.&nbsp;She hopes to never see that again, and so now, she marches.“I come from a mixed family. I worry about my cousins; I worry about my sisters,” said Workman.&nbsp;She said that after the protests are done, the police department needs to be dismantled and replaced with a more community-centered organization. She carried a sign saying, "Defund the police."&nbsp;“This is a response to injustice everywhere across the country,” Workman said.&nbsp;At the beginning of their first-ever protest, Tia Riley, 20, and Iamanja Cornegan, 14, stood toward the back of the crowd gathered at Humboldt Park in Bay View. They quietly prepared their backpacks full of supplies and put their “Black Lives Matter” and “I can’t breathe” signs in order. &nbsp;After more than two hours of marching and as crowds dispersed at the Milwaukee Police Department headquarters, the two sisters were not&nbsp;the back anymore. They embraced each other and stood face to face with a row of baton-wielding police officers.Riley and Cornegan were tired of feeling afraid. &nbsp;“I get scared any time I get pulled over,” Riley said. &nbsp;Riley and Cornegan were motivated to protest by a desire to protect their family and community now and in the future.&nbsp;“When I get older and have kids, I want them to be able to go out and not be scared,” Riley said. “I want my sisters to be safe and not scared to go out.”&nbsp;Riley and Cornegan said their first protest will not be their last. They won’t stop until they see change.

Milwaukee Journal SentinelThey have shown up by the thousands, day after day.&nbsp;Foreheads dripping with sweat, noses covered in sunscreen, eyes filled with anger or impatience or frustration.Or maybe hope.&nbsp;Since the May 25 death of George Floyd after a Minneapolis police officer knelt on his neck for nearly nine minutes, protesters have marched in Milwaukee and Madison, in suburbs and smaller communities throughout Wisconsin.&nbsp;Milwaukee's unrest was perhaps a foregone conclusion.The list of controversial deaths at the hands of police is deep: Derek Williams in 2011, Dontre...

'We're all in this together': Marchers come from different backgrounds, but unite in plea for meaningful change

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