A Voice Within

The pit in my stomach was almost too hard to bear, and my leg shaking at 190mph wasn’t helping my cause either. It was finally May 31, the day I had been anticipating since the start of the month. I was half an hour away from my first Black Lives Matter protest. The noise coming from the protest only increased the void sitting in my stomach. Signs were the only things I could see as we approached. The amount of colors I was seeing made it almost agitating to my eyes. Police officers crowded the outside with their riot gear and hands across their chests, It scared me honestly. There were so many emotions running through my mind, but there was one that I couldn’t seem to let go of; sadness. It hurt me to see that a community’s life has become a part of politics. Due to the fact that I’m black as well, it pained me when I realized that this protest is to be given the right to live without being afraid of a police officer. This would also explain why I’m scared near the police. 

The actual protest didn’t start for another few minutes, so I waited a bit, socialized with people I’ve never met, and took a few photos. While I was waiting, it felt like the officers that stood just beyond the streets were staring me down, their pupils burning into my figure, ready to pounce if I slip up. The stiffness in my body as I stood next to my mom was so intense it grabbed her attention, leading her to grip onto my shoulder and whisper close to my ear,

“Don’t let it get to you, focus on the objective,” she said. Her voice crisp, it sent shivers running down my spine. Her words stuck with me, repeating in my mind ever so often. Before I knew it, we were marching. I didn’t realize how many people were actually here until we turned a corner, and it looked like there could’ve been over 1,000 people. I wanted to cry right then and there, but I held back and we continued on. The further we got, it seemed like more people were joining us. People walking on the sidewalks joined, people inside of stores, getting out of cars, and joining us. It sent tingles throughout my body. 

At this point I was yelling at the top of my lungs, straining my voice so it reaches its highest frequency. For a change, I felt included and I felt needed. For so long, I hid behind screens watching what happened. I felt like I was creating a change, I was creating steps forward in equality. Damn, it felt good. I felt like I was making a difference and being able to help move the world in a new direction. With all the incidents that sprung up, it was so devastating, the feeling of being worthless in a time of great need was really hard to bear with, and then the feeling was gone.  

We finally reached the police station and we waited for everyone to surround it. The next thing I knew, everyone there was on one knee with one of their fists in the air as their lips were shut. I sat in the middle of the stairs leading to the station, on both of my knees with my hands over my head. This was not just for George Floyd, this was for Breonna Taylor, Stephon Clark, Eric Garner, Manuel Elijah Ellis, Sandra Bland, and many more. We will not forget those gone unlawfully. 

Kayla Sarcomo, Grade 9

Personal Narrative/Memoir

Creative Writing Major