I’m a Bay Area native — born and raised. More times than I can count on my fingers, I have witnessed or been a victim of police abusing their power. I went out to the Oakland protests over the weekend, which escalated from peaceful to “unlawful assembly,” because I felt the need to demonstrate my anger and join in the fight, as well as to document the historic moment as a photographer.
My initial reaction to the murder of George Floyd was to flashback to seeing Trayvon Martin’s murder go unpunished. I was 18 years old at the time; Trayvon was 17 when he was killed. I couldn’t even bring myself to finish the video of George Floyd—and I still can’t. I knew where things were headed as soon as I saw initial reports of the murder on social media. People are outraged. Actions this grave cannot go unpunished by the police force.
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As soon as I saw protests sparking up, I knew I had to go out to support. Tamir Rice’s murderer isn’t in jail. Mike Brown’s murderer isn’t in jail. Trayvon Martin’s murderer isn’t in jail. Eric Garner’s murderer isn’t in jail. Sandra Bland’s murderers aren’t in jail. Philando Castile’s murderer isn’t in jail.
I’m tired. So many are tired. As a full-time freelance photographer and videographer, these protests are history, and I knew that I needed to help document them. I took pictures throughout the night, and to protect people’s privacy, I’ve blurred out their faces from the images.
My day on May 29 started with a peaceful march from Frank H. Ogawa Plaza to the Oakland Police Department just before 8 p.m. As we approached Broadway, we were met with a brigade of police officers fully outfitted in riot gear. We were face to face with police officers expressing the anger and hurt that has been on our shoulders since long before the George Floyd incident. You could feel the pain in the voices around me. You could see the hurt in people’s eyes. We were voicing our opinions on injustice and systematic racism in this country.
As tensions started to rise on Broadway and the main protest back at the plaza about to mobilize, I decided to go back to the plaza. I then marched with thousands of others back to the Oakland Police Department down 7th Street instead of Broadway. Again, we were met with a line of police officers.
Until this point, things had been completely peaceful, with no type of vandalism or looting. But as soon as it got dark, that’s when tensions really started to rise and vandalism began. What started as graffiti and trash can fires escalated into small fires inside of buildings, windows broken, and people throwing fireworks at police. Police started tear gassing the crowd. I witnessed people getting trampled, a girl with her leg snapped in half with tear gas creeping in.
After about 10 minutes of flash-bang grenades and tear gas, the crowd started to mobilize to the freeway. With the freeway completely shut down by protestors, you could hear the honking of supporters in their cars. People got on top of 16-wheeler trucks with signs saying “Black Lives Matter.” The crowd started to move back toward the town center.
Vandalism continued. Multiple eyewitness accounts report that the people starting the vandalism were predominately white and fled the scene as soon as the chaos is incited. I saw this happen with my own eyes and heard it from many others. Banks were getting broken into, Walgreens was looted and set on fire, graffiti sprayed on every wall and sidewalk possible. Corporate stores, as well as local mom and pop shops with exteriors getting destroyed. Fires starting in the middle of the street. A bulldozer was hot-wired and driven through the streets of Oakland.
As the night continued, I watched as police tried to control the crowds with tear gas, flash-bang grenades, rubber bullets, and batons. Police singled me out and threw tear gas canisters at my feet. Covered in toxic smoke, not able to see or breathe, I tried to get to a safer location.
Even though it was a violent night, what stood out to me wasn’t the violence but the unity of the community — not just against police injustice, but also helping those in need of immediate help. I was helped by strangers with water and company until I recovered, which is more than I can say the police who are meant to protect and serve did for me.
My night ended with a feeling of unease. I did what I could to help those who needed help and did my part documenting. I still feel as if it’s not enough. Hopefully, this movement ends peacefully and with a direction for proper change.
