An Electric Brew of Jubilation, Power, and Fury in the Streets of Baltimore:
Murder By Police Must STOP!

by Sunsara Taylor | May 7, 2015 | Revolution Newspaper | revcom.us

 

People poured into City Hall Park in downtown Baltimore just one day after the indictment of six cops for the cold-blooded murder of Freddie Gray. The protesters were young and old, mostly Black with a large number of white people and a smaller, but rich, diversity of others mixed in. About half beamed with pride at having been out in the streets many times since Freddie Gray was murdered. The other half, including a larger number of students who came in groups of friends (no organized groupings that I could detect), had ventured out for the first time, feeling a responsibility to show their support and learn more.

The mood was celebratory yet angry, full of determination to keep fighting yet not entirely clear on what that should mean. Many of the speakers expressed exactly this confusion, at first heralding Marilyn Mosby, the State's Attorney, for indicting the cops, then recognizing that the only reason she did this was the righteous and powerful rebellion of the people. Quiet as it's kept, Mosby's platform when running for State's Attorney was to decry the fact that people were not being locked up for long enough and to repeatedly trumpet her deep support for the increased presence of police in West Baltimore. The only thing that “changed her tune” was the powerful, and spreading, demand for justice. Others condemned the “violence” of the rebellion only to add that without this fierce uprising nothing would have changed.

Carl Dix, of the Revolutionary Communist Party and the Stop Mass Incarceration Network, brought tremendous clarity when he addressed the crowd, drawing people in right off the bat with the chant, “Indict! Convict! Send the killer cops to jail! The whole damn system is guilty as hell!” He helped people understand just how significant their uprising had been in winning the conviction, while calling on everyone not to be lulled by a mere indictment. He recounted that the long experience with the police, even when the massive struggle of the people has forced an indictment, has almost always been that they are acquitted when they murder, and the need to escalate the struggle to see that that doesn't happen.

Dix also spoke of the world we need to bring into being through an actual revolution that puts an end to the grinding genocide crushing the lives of millions of Blacks and Latinos. When he began to give flesh this to vision, how it encompasses not only an end to white supremacy but also an end to the degradation and enslavement of women, the crowd erupted in wild enthusiasm. Others had given shout-outs to Black women—at their best giving credit to those who have been in the streets and demanding the inclusion of those who have been killed by police, at their worst heralding Marilyn Mosby as if she was some champion of the oppressed. But, what Dix did deeper was to call out the way that all women are oppressed and degraded as women under this system of capitalism-imperialism; and the response he got was deeper too—something which is extremely significant for the prospects of revolution. He culminated by calling on people to get organized for an actual revolution and to get connected with the Stop Mass Incarceration Network.

When he finished, many throughout the crowd were eager to sign up with the revolution. Something to think about: more almost certainly could have been done by the revolutionaries in the crowd to recruit on the spot off Dix's powerful speech.

After several hours of speeches, a march finally stepped off. Thousands poured into the streets. The Revolution Club let out the chant that many sports teams do, “Everywhere we go... people want to know... who we are... so we tell them: We are the Rev Coms! The mighty, mighty Rev Coms!” A growing crowd joined in marching and singing along with us. Many threw their fists up in the air, others danced to the rhythm. People were attracted to this projection of a powerful and organized force for revolution.

When we finally hit the hard streets of West Baltimore, the heart of the rebellion, hundreds lined the blocks. The devastation that has plagued this city for decades was palpable: buildings abandoned, no grocery stores, older folks drinking on the curb, “R.I.P” spattered across walls... the destructiveness of capitalism was evidenced everywhere. But the creative and revolutionary potential born of this destruction, the explosive rage of hundreds of years of Black people being enslaved and oppressed, was also on display. The mood was an electric brew of jubilation, power, and fury.

Folks grabbed up the Stolen Lives poster, running down from the top floor of housing projects to get copies. Parents cheered as children held this poster in the air. Young adults waved these posters out car windows, or through sunroofs, as they drove slowly and honked horns. At the end, someone set up a huge sound-system and hundreds gathered to dance, to cheer, and to chop it up over things big and small.

The streets were filled with a mix of folks who probably have never been so intermingled in their lives. Students and middle class folks who have never been this deep in the ghetto interspersed with folks who have spent more time inside paddy wagons than college classrooms. This mingling was real, but also cautious; folks tended to stay close to those who were more familiar, while taking heart in and welcoming the larger mix.

Those of us who are down with the Revolutionary Communist Party, along with a growing cluster who had been drawn to us throughout the day, grouped up at the edge of the end-rally and began to chant once again. Slowly we marched down a residential street where hundreds of Black folks from the neighborhood were lining the sidewalks.

We agitated about how beautiful the uprising had been, how essential it had been in winning the first taste of justice, in inspiring and compelling people throughout society to see the humanity of those this system casts off and to stand with them, and of the need to go much further, putting the killer cops in jail and making an actual revolution. “We need a revolution!” we chanted, over and over. At first, those on the sidelines simply watched. Before long, a chorus joined in the cry for revolution. Young folks began stepping forward to snap pictures with the banner of the Revolution Club, which read, “We Refuse to Accept Slavery in ANY Form! Fight the Power, and Transform the People, for Revolution!” More of them streamed forward, including young women with their babies as well as young men, many of whom repping the colors of rival street organizations.

These are the youth derided as “thugs” by the media, and by Obama. They are young people whom this system has completely abandoned, who have been demonized and criminalized since before they were born. They have been cast in conditions where the only way they feel they can get any respect is by fighting deadly beefs with other kids just as fucked over as themselves. They've been to funerals for friends, some killed by police, others lost in these horrific and degrading conflicts. And yet, even with blood spilled between them, here they were nestled up to each other taking a stand for liberation. A glimpse of the even greater potential the revolution holds could be seen, and it was precious.

As this scene broke out into smaller knots of people mixing it up, a young man whose face was covered with bandanas began pointing out to me a row of buildings that were all boarded up. “That one there,” he said, pointing to the last one in a row, “was burned down on Monday night. All the rest were already boarded up.” Don't let anyone tell you the destruction of this community began with the people's righteous rebellion. In reality, what this rebellion brought was the first tastes of justice, of broader love and support, and of hope to visit these streets in generations!

A little ways away, Travis Morales of the Stop Mass Incarceration Network drew a crowd agitating in front of the huge Stolen Lives banner. A group of teenagers hanging near the back explained that, despite the indictment, they are not hopeful about change. “They indicted the guy who killed Trayvon,” one tells me. He was just 12 when Trayvon was killed. It's possible that he remembers this himself, but more likely it is the vibrant debate that has flooded these streets in recent days that brought him this cautionary lesson. Already he and his friends have stories of being chased and/or brutalized by police. I agree that an indictment is not yet enough, but also insist that a great deal has been accomplished. Those who run this system fear the kind of power and anger that has erupted in this neighborhood, as well as the broader support this has been winning among broader society. Smiles of pride appear on their faces and their posture shifts just enough to convey they are letting down their guards and getting more serious.

“What does it mean to get involved with the revolution?” one asks. I break down the strategy of “fighting the power, and transforming the people, for revolution” and how today we are organizing the thousands who will lead millions when the time comes for the all-out struggle for the seizure of power. He gets excited, but checks with his friends, “Should I sign up?” “Nah,” says the one who had brought up Trayvon as he turns away. They all turn. “What is it,” I say boldly, borrowing a line from Bob Avakian's epic talk, REVOLUTION—NOTHING LESS! “Do you like the way these cops do you out here? Do you like being disrespected and treated worse than a dog? Do you like the way this same system does that to people just like you all over the world? Cuz, if you like all that, then keep walking, this revolution is not for you.” They slow down. “But if you hate this shit, if you hate what they did to Freddie Gray, if you hate that he could have been any one of you, if you hate that this goes on day after day after day after day not just in Baltimore but all over this country, and all over this world, then you have a responsibility. I'm not selling something, I am telling you about real revolution, life and death, and you have a big role to play—not just fighting for your own liberation but for the emancipation of all of humanity.” The kid who had been enthusiastic is the only one still facing me, but he is hesitating. Then, the one who turned away first darts around and says, “Okay, I'll sign up.” The others did as well. We took some more time on the spot to get further into the revolution.

It seemed that everyone in the neighborhood had a story of police, many specifically detailing the horrors of the Baltimore police's notorious “rough rides” (where they cuff or hog-tie you unbuckled into the back of a police van, then intentionally drive so that you are brutally slammed against the walls without being able to protect yourself). The worst, I was told, is in summer when they do all that plus leave you locked in the stuffy van without air conditioning or water for hours. “It makes you look forward to being locked up,” one middle-aged Black man told me. “Then, you finally get there and you are filthy and hurting and they give you something green between two pieces of bread. I just fold it up like a pillow and go to sleep on concrete.” It's routine.

A young man who was very close to Freddie Gray is interrupted frequently as he speaks to me by hugs and condolences as well as folks joining in with the bitterness he speaks. “Next time they run up on us, we need to do more than just film them,” he insists as others erupt enthusiastically. “I am not saying we beat them down or beat them to death like they do us,” he clarified, “but we can't just keep sitting back and all we do is film them as they kill us. They have to be stopped.”

Indeed, they must be stopped!

 

 

 

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