The
experience of childhood is such a whimsical experience. Your entire life is filled with very few
responsibilities except for doing homework, the occasional chore or two, or
trying to decide whether you want to play indoors or outdoors. Certainly as a child, you think that the
world is a wonderful place to be in with so much natural beauty, friendly
faces, and safe neighbourhoods. But
every child grows up into an adult at some point, and there is one pivotal moment
in which a person can remember when they witnessed something that completely
shattered their childhood bubble.
For
me, that date was April 29, 1992.
Let's
set the stage here. I was just a few
weeks shy of turning eleven. I was in
the fifth grade, my favourite activity to do was anything Nintendo related, my
favourite subject was language arts, and my favourite television shows at the
time included the entire TGIF line-up on ABC.
Prior
to April 1992, I had this idea that nothing bad could ever happen in the
world. It wasn't because I lived in an
underground bunker and tuned out the world.
It was because I still had that childlike innocence that the world was a
happy place and that nothing could happen that would make it sad. I was too young to really understand what
war was and I didn't quite grasp the concept of what power a natural disaster
had because at that time, we hadn't experienced one.
(Well,
not until six years later when the great ice storm of 1998 hit.)
But
it was on April 29, 1992 that the Rodney King trial concluded, and needless to
say, the verdict that was reached seemed to deliver a shattering blow to my
cocoon of innocence.
For
those of you who may be too young to know who Rodney King was, or what
happened, the short version is this. In
1991, the African-American Rodney King was arrested by a group of white police
officers, who proceeded to beat up the man after they allegedly claimed that he
resisted arrest. Long story short, the
police officers who were involved in the beatings were acquitted of all
charges, which set forth nearly a week long series of racially motivated riots
throughout Los Angeles. By the time the
smoke cleared, it was estimated that 11,000 people were arrested, 2,000 were
injured, and at least 53 people lost their lives. Not to mention the millions of dollars of property damage that
was caused by looting and deliberately set fires.
And
here was I, a soon to be eleven year old kid, watching the whole thing live on
television.
I
should probably mention that in my household, there weren't any major rules on
what we could or couldn't watch on television.
We could basically make our own decisions on what we thought was
entertainment. Just in case anyone is
questioning why two parents would let their ten year old child watch coverage
of deadly rioting on CNN.
I
just found the whole thing to be very sad and frightening, watching the
coverage of the angry people, the fighting, and the fires. I didn't quite understand everything that
had happened with the trial, but I did know that the main argument was that the
attack was racially motivated, and that a lot of people were very angry about
the verdict as they saw it as a failure of justice. What I didn't quite understand was why the people who were the
most angry about the verdict felt the need to destroy the neighbourhoods that
they grew up in. To attack and beat up
people who happened to find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong
time. To disrupt society as much as
possible. What was it all for? Was it to make a stand? Was it to make their voices heard? Or, was it them using the trial as an excuse
to behave badly? I would imagine that
all of those questions played a factor in the 1992 Los Angeles Riots.
And
here we are, twenty-two years later, and it seems as though the world has
learned nothing.
By
now, I'm sure you know all about the riots that began in Ferguson, Missouri on
November 24, 2014. And you know the
story behind the riots.
Eighteen-year-old Michael Brown was fatally shot by police officer
Darren Wilson on the afternoon of August 9, 2014. There was some altercation between the teen and the police
officer before Wilson shot Brown six times.
Where
the anger comes into play is in these known facts. Brown was African-American, and Wilson was white. And Brown was unarmed at the time of the
shooting.
Does
this sound like deja vu to any of you?
Once
again, the jury delivered their verdict, and once more, the police officer was
cleared of any wrongdoing, which caused hundreds in the area to respond by
causing a series of riots. Businesses
were looted and torched, people were arrested, and a series of tear gas
canisters were released on the streets, the haze of the gas illuminating the
SEASON'S GREETINGS signs that decorated city streets.
Now,
there is one major difference between the 1992 Los Angeles Riots, and the 2014
Ferguson Riots. The size of the
location.
I
was absolutely shocked to find out that the city of Ferguson is practically the
same size as my hometown. I mean, we
could practically be sister cities. I
could not even imagine anything like what happened in Ferguson happening
here. To me, it makes absolutely no
sense to destroy your own town to prove a point about injustice. What about those people who lost everything
because of the looting? Did they ask to
become victims of injustice too? Two
wrongs don't make a right.
I
get it. You're angry, and you're pissed
off, and you see nothing but injustice.
And, well, given the facts of the case, I can definitely understand why
you would feel this way. But to take it
out on the community you live in to prove a point is not the way to go, whether
it be in Ferguson, or Los Angeles, or anywhere else where racial tensions have
boiled over.
Ferguson,
Missouri is a community that is hurting right now. There is so much anger and so much pain, and I don't think a lot
of people in that area really know how to get that anger out in a positive
manner. With American Thanksgiving
being tomorrow, I think that everyone should work on coming together and
stopping the violence. Being angry is
one thing. But using that anger as an
excuse for bad behaviour won't change things.
Here's
the frustrating thing about it. I
honestly don't know what the solution is.
And, for the people of Ferguson, Missouri, I don't know if even they
know what the solution is. I guess all
we can do is hope that maybe we have finally learned something from this.
And,
I can imagine that just like I was shocked as a nearly eleven-year-old boy at
the Los Angeles Riots of 1992, many nearly eleven-year-old kids all over North
America had their childhood bubbles popped just two days earlier.
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