ferguson protests

This year on Tumblr:
  • Flappy Bird
  • Oscar Selfie
  • Frozen
  • Denny’s tumblr
  • Tumblr virus
  • Girl gets hit with shovel
  • Kim K: Hollywood
  • I’m in me mum’s car
  • Dashcon’s ball pit
  • None of My Business Kermit
  • Orange Is The New Black
  • Parks and Rec
  • Kid on crack
  • It’s a metaphor
  • I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now
  • Skeleton War
  • Guardians of the Galaxy
  • Malala Yousafzai
  • Robin Williams
  • Ferguson Protests
  • #blacklivesmatter
  • Steal the look
  • Taylor Swift’s new album
  • I crave that mineral
  • The last meme of 2014

Young man had sign saying, “free hugs”, at a Portland Ferguson rally. This cop took him up on the offer.

This child is moved to tears from being shown kindness by a cop. That means that this boy did not expect to be shown this simple kindness by someone that has sworn to protect and serve him. Someone that he is supposed to trust. 

Meet Me in Ferguson
Derrick Rice
Meet Me in Ferguson

This is a song I wrote in solidarity with the protesters in Ferguson, Missouri. 

Meet Me In Ferguson

Hands up don’t shoot stand your ground
we are strong and we are proud
grab my hand, let’s make a stand
we shall not be moved 

Black lives matter, yes they do
stand up proud and know it’s true
no matter what they might tell you
black lives matter, yes they do

So please won’t you
meet me in Ferguson
where we shall overcome

March with me take back our home
we won’t budge and we won’t moan
let freedom ring, sing it proud
we shall not be moved

Trayvon’s here and Michael Brown
Leelah Alcorn stuck around
don’t forget their suffering
we will not forget you

Trans lives matter, yes they do
no matter what they might tell you
you’re valid for just being you
trans lives matter yes they do

We will stand and we will fight
they won’t deny us of our rights
meet us there on the frontline
we shall not be moved

There’s a storm coming, Mr. Wayne" 
Is not a line written for a movie, 
It is written for those broken and battered souls going against a war on terrorism, a war on racism
Gassing souls of the innocent because of the color of their skin 
Tell me, when did extra melanin determine if you were human or not?
We all have graveyards growing inside of us,
but that poor girl you maced, those rubber bullets scraping against a young family’s skin and the police brutality being used for reaping the innocent, made a cemetery grow within their bones. 
Don’t you dare tell me racism isn’t alive and well 
Don’t you dare tell me these people in swat team armor hiding behind masks and guns aren’t cowards 
Don’t you dare tell me the innocent souls being reaped from this earth deserve it, 

don’t you dare say light skinned people are the real ones getting attacked 
open your eyes 
and realize if you think what’s happening is a gift from God, 
I’ll be standing there, fighting those pigs, supporting the rebels 
& screaming, 
“Fuck that.” 
— 

For Ferguson

m.n.

youtube

Ferguson protesters branded ‘enemy forces’ before National Guard arrived – report

You Can’t Deny the Success of #BlackLivesMatter

By Ashley Nicole Black

Last December, in Chicago, I took the elevator down from teaching a class to find the lobby full of students anxiously staring out the window. I walked forward to leave, and the security guard grabbed me by the arm. She was an elderly black woman, and it was the first time I’d seen her working security in that building. But she still looked at me with a kind of intimacy as she begged me, “Please don’t go out there, they’re protesting out there.” I apologized to her - I felt like I was betraying her as I stepped outside. She kept all the black students safely inside. I didn’t stop to ask her whom she she feared more – the protestors or the police – because her answer seemed obvious… 

This week, in downtown Los Angeles, I came upon another protest. The participants were mainly black and Hispanic. Most carried a cardboard sign in the shape of a coffin with the name of someone who had been killed in officer-involved violence. Most heart-breaking were two, very young girls carrying signs that said “Justice for my Daddy.” The police calmly cleared the way for the protesters to continue down the street, some nodding along to the drum beat, passersby watched, some joined in the chanting…and not a single person asked why they were protesting.

I’ve been thinking back to that December night in Chicago, when I was too shocked to answer the guy who asked, “What’s the point of this?” But I have an answer now: The protest I saw five months later in Los Angeles. That was the point.

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