This entry is a tad long winded and more of a memory dump versus anything really structured, so bare with me and thanks in advance for putting up with me.
When you get older, certain recollections begin to slowly fade away, and as I try today to reflect on where I was (physically and mentally) 20 years ago, it will be bittersweet to go back into the mental rolodex to share with my few readers on this time as a young black man growing up in Los Angeles.
A lot of folks associate the LA Riots that started 20 years ago today on April 29th, 1992 as an event that was solely triggered by the Rodney King verdict, in which 4 LAPD officers (3 white, 1 latino) were caught on camera making beating the crap out of Rodney King, and a year later were summarily acquitted by an all-white jury jury of their “peers” after the trial was relocated to Simi Valley, CA, a location where the jury pool was more “advantageous” to the defense. However, the relationship between authorities and the black community were already on thin ice before the verdict was even a thought in the minds of most folks in LA, let alone the rest of the country.
One incident in particular that was in proximity to the Rodney King incident was the Latasha Harlins incident that also happened in 1991, the same year the Rodney King beating took place. Latasha was a 15 year old young black woman in Los Angeles who walked into a asian-owned convenience store as a regular patron and the cashier accused Latasha of stealing. As you see in the link above, they got into a heated argument, and as Latasha tried to leave the store, the cashier shot Latasha in the head (sounds familiar to Trayvon Martin doesn’t it?). The case went to trial, where the cashier was ONLY convicted of voluntary manslaughter, and sentenced to 5 years probation. At this point in my life was when I got the talk from my mom and stepdad about making sure you look as transparent as possible when walking through a convenience store.
Sidebar: The lesson above was one I learned first hand when on my way to middle school one day. I was stopping through to the AM/PM mini market on Motor and Palms one morning to hang with one of my boys as he got something to eat (I had an early breakfast at a restaurant so I wasn’t hungry). When you grow up in LA, 55 degrees is cold to you, so in my Cali-chill I kept my hands in my pockets the entire time in the store. As I was walking out, the manager of the store all but jumped over the counter and proceeded to question me and my friend and asked us to empty our pockets. All I could ask was “Why? What did I do?” and all he could respond with was “You won’t steal from me again, not today my friend”. Of course he felt like BooBoo the fool when all I had in my pocket was a stick of gum, my wallet, ChapStick, and my house keys. But it was a lesson that stuck hard with me as a young kid in LA.
SO when you add up the incident above, add in a mix of racist policies coming out of Parker Center (for LA outsiders, that’s the main hub of LAPD, named after an enemy of the black and brown communities in LA, former police chief William H. Parker, and was ran at the time by an apprentice of his, Daryl Gates) and have been coming out of Parker Center since the 60′s, the black community had already had it up to HERE (whatever HERE means to you). So that brings me to April 29th, 1992………
DAY 1:
At the time, I was attending a predominantly Caucasian gifted magnet elementary school in the Hollywood hills where I had to get bused in to make it to class everyday versus some of my classmates who got dropped off by their parents in a Benz. At 11 years old, even though I knew of the racial differences between me and my classmates (you could count the black folks on one hand in my class), I felt like I was one of them, despite the constant reminders from home that I really wasn’t and how I had to be better. Coming home on the bus after a typical day of going back and forth in dozens with the cutest sista in my class (hi Cycette), it was a normal day for me as I made my 3 block walk from Saturn elementary back to the crib, I turn on the TV expecting to see my typical set of weekday afternoon shows (when I should have finished up my homework so I wouldn’t get the infamous Wonderland Ave. “homework notice”, UGH). Instead of that, I see every channel is broadcasting the Rodney King verdicts live in Simi Valley. The verdicts were read as I was on the bus back home, but Fox, NBC, CBS, ABC, KTLA, KCOP, all of them kept looping the same phrase spoke by the jury’s foreman:
“NOT GUILTY”
“NOT GUILTY”
“NOT GUILTY”
“NOT GUILTY”
At 11 years old, none of that made sense to me. Here I am, knowing the high level facts of the case, knowing that the basis of this trial was video tape proof that these officers beat the crap out of this dude beyond what was needed to subdue him (including using a taser gun on top of that), yet y’all let these dudes walk? I sat there watching the coverage going on pretty much numb as to how this could happen and how (although I didn’t have much of it then) common sense isn’t common. An hour and change passes by, then the coverage splits into 3 areas of LA: Florence and Normandie, where two wrongs didn’t make it right, to the aforementioned Parker Center, where folks were acting a donkey, and to FAME (First African Methodist Episcopal Church), where the majority of LA’s prominent black preachers decided to convene and gather the community in an effort to have a peaceful protest to what was going on. In a weird way, my spirit was in tune with what was happening at FAME, but my heart threw that brick in Denny’s face. I could understand where our people were coming from at Florence and Normandie (a reaction that would have probably been lightly endorsed by the early 60′s version of the Community Resistance in Progress, or as commonly known around the country, CRIPS). But at the same time, knowing my black history, my frat brother would have been at FAME, figuring out a way to talk out our anger, then come up with a more peaceful alternative. As you can see on the Denny link, the LAPD got out of there to “ensure the safety of their force”. What the news didn’t tell us then was that most of those retracted officers were sent “north” to ensure that those communities would be safer. In other words, LAPD was sent to Mid-Wilshire, Beverly Hills, Culver City (west of Balogna Creek), Brentwood, Westwood, Hollywood (see where I’m going) and make sure that those communities are locked down while the black and brown communities destroy their own. At about 7:30, my parents couldn’t stop watching the coverage. It was even more real to my mom, who grew up under William Parker’s treatment of the black community and how that affected the family. She remembers growing up off of West Adams and going to Dorsey High School where this was everyday reality to her, and how she used that to make sure (to the best of her ability and reach) that I didn’t go through that as well. However, at 7:30, I needed a break from the coverage because there was something else on my mind at that time (what can I say, I’m a fan from the womb to the tomb *kanyeshrug*). After a compromise was reached, and that concluded, it was back to the live coverage. You could see more and more foolishness breaking out all over the city as more and more fires kept popping up over the city. I remember staying up with my parents until at least 1am watching what was going on. But I could only hang so long because I had to be rested for school.
DAY 2:
Waking up that morning, the last thing on my mind was what I saw on TV last night (outside the fact the Lakers won the game). My mind was on the International Food project we had in English class, which took place every Thursday for several weeks throughout the spring semester (my group went 2 weeks prior when our assigned theme was Dutch, and we got an A- so we could now relax). I had this day especially marked because today was ITALIAN day. Despite my (not knowing at the time) gluten allergy, I was all juiced up to have some pasta, pizza, and whatever else they were going to throw my way (insert Lil Jon shouting “YEAH”). So I was happily frolicking (yeah I said it, shut up) to my bus stop that day, and just waited there…………. and waited………………and waited……………….. then it was 8am, and I’m STILL waiting. Then it dawned on me……………..a handful of the bus stops on the route I was on were in the no public transportation zone , so as a result my bus route was not allowed to even go out that day, and I wasn’t going to make it to school that day. DAMNIT TO HELL!!!! I walked back to my house with tears in my eyes because these IGN’ANT REGGINS IN SOUTH CENTRAL COST ME MY ITALIAN FOOD DAY!!!!!
So, since I was stuck at home with nothing to do, I turned the TV back on and (in between Nintendo games) I was watching more and more of what was going on. The coverage that stuck out to me that day was in the morning when a huge conglomerate of latinos decided to loot some of the stores off Western and Adams (I remember that corner because at the time, the only Wendy’s damn near in LA was on that corner), and you could see them just taking stuff without abashment. But what had my jaw on the floor was when you saw a Ryder truck back up to one of the stores, and out the back comes about 6 mexicans who start an assembly line within seconds, and start loading stuff up to the truck. To say I couldn’t believe it was an understatement (and I’m sure if you’re reading this and have the image in your head of what it looked like, trust me it was worse than you’re thinking, LOL).
The same pattern of stuff continues throughout the day, and what was sad was that by this point, a lot of those folks who were looting (especially in the brown community) had NO DAMN IDEA what caused all of this, yet took advantage of the opportunity, As Martin and Carlos can attest to (LOL). For me, at that point, since I wasn’t going to school the next day anyway, Day 2 faded into……………..
DAY 3:
……………. The same thing kept happening all across the city. The only time the news faded away from this coverage was to show some coverage in Atlanta of local residents protesting outside of CNN headquarters of the “slanted” coverage that they were giving against black and latino residents of LA. But for me, three major things stuck out to me that day.
1. A member of our church, Ben Mayo (may God rest his soul) lost his printing business over in Leimert Park when some idiot thought the business wasn’t black owned and decided to blow up the place. This was personal because Ben was a father figure to me at Brookins AME growing up, along with his wife Arlene and daughter Staci who definitely looked out for me when I couldn’t look out for myself. Also, he was one of many in our church who had his own business and took every opportunity possible to give back to the community through that business (even giving some folks in church jobs at the time when the economy was acting up just so they could have something in their pocket to take home to their own families).
2. Of course, there was this moment as well………………. roll the clip.
3. The very tardy appearance of the Army National Guard getting into LA to do the job that LAPD refused to do. The only piss poor performance in my lifetime that was worse than this was during Hurrican Katrina in ’05. By this point, too much damage had been done to the black and latino communities of LA for the National Guard to make any real difference. In other words, half of the hood was burnt up.
SKIP to DAY 5:
The afternoon before, my mom got a call from one of her fellow Welcome Club members and gave her a heads up that Rev. Jesse Jackson was going to preach at 8am service, so make sure we’re there. (Sidebar: ladies, if you are beautiful and single, one of the quickest ways to find a man at a church is join the Welcome Club, because you’re the first face everyone sees when they walk into the house of the Lord. Just something to think about.) My dad, as a member of Male Chorus, knew to be there regardless because it was First Sunday and the Mass Choir always sings on First Sunday, but DEFINITELY make sure he’s there this time.
So we get to church around 7:30am, if memory serves, and it is already PACKED. Part of that was that the portion of the church that was next to the sound board turned into a mini-news center with every news outlet there to cover what Jesse Jackson had to say. When a famous person in the black community shows up to Brookins, we knew how to SHOW UP AND SHOW OUT. Everyone’s attire was Sunday Best, Pastor Kirkland was in the pulpit ON TIME today, and of course the incomparable Anna Moore shut the place down singing the church favorite “He’s Coming Back”. After all of that, Jesse came in, built the place up, and shut it back down again. When you left Brookins that day, most of us left with a renewed sense of energy, and more focus on staying with the fight and not letting this get us down, understanding that, when you look back on the struggles of the Negro in the “land of the free”, we’ve been through much worse. Yet, despite the progress, we still had a long ways to go.
AFTERMATH:
In the end, hundreds of businesses lost, $1 billion in damages, and dozens of lives lost, and what was worse was that we did it to ourselves. One positive thing that came out of it was the short lived “Truce in Nine Deuce”, initiated by NFL Hall of Famer Jim Brown in which rival gangs decided to put things aside and temporarily squash any beef that occurred up to that time. Although that truce is no longer in effect, the gang wars are nowhere near the level they were in the 80′s.
A year after the riots, the 4 police officers were brought to trial again in federal for civil rights violations. Although they were not convicted on every charge brought against them, there was some justice served in the process, although all 4 of them walk as free men as we speak today.
SO………
When looking back on this 20 years ago, and to see the similarities in times (to an extent), it concerns me how, in a time where this country just elected its first black POTUS, that the value of a black person’s life is still less than any other. How is it that you can have a Trayvon Martin, Prince Jones, Amadou Diallo, and countless others who have been killed in cold blood without consequence to the perpetrator, yet Michael Vick was in jail for 2 years for killing a dog? It speaks to an imbalance here that some folks are not willing to admit exists anymore. Although it took a few years for me to get the memo as a young man, knowing this reality back then, and understanding that as long as I can tan without turning red that I was never going to be immune to racism and oppression in this country, I knew that I had to make a way for myself to be successful and get there (more or less) on my own, and even when I do get there, it won’t ever stop. No amount of money or power can shield you from racism, prejudice, and mistreatment in this country, ask our President. But I digress…………….
All in all, the LA Riots of ’92 was definitely a “Where were you?” moment in American history, and having all but been right in the middle of it makes the reflection on it 20 years later that much more real. Fortunately for this country, this event, along with this one here contributed to 8 years of sanity in the White House (of course after that………….anyway).
If you remember where you were, how you felt, what you were going through at the time, definitely feel free to share below.
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