January 2023
‘No justice, no peace!’ So it is shouted in the streets of Memphis, New York, LA, DC and other big cities. Another black man has been beaten by the police, to death this time. I remember the Rodney King beating in the 90s and the subsequent volatile riots when the police officers who assaulted him were set free. I remember Michael Brown who was unarmed and gunned down by the police in 2014 a mere 25 minutes from my house. ‘No justice, no peace!’ it sounded every night then too. I remember George Floyd who cried out for his mother in his last breath as the police squeezed the last air out of his body in 2020. ‘No justice, no peace!’ it roared across the globe.

Tyre Nichols was his name. He was a father, a son, a skateboarder and an artist, a photographer. I lasted 51 seconds into the video of his demise at the hands of the police, and then turned it off. I couldn’t watch it. I then called my boys. I am a researcher in a lectorate dedicated to pursuing and promoting social justice in the arts. But I am a mother first, a mother of three American black sons. I am a mother to each of the young people who come to me with their stories, at least I approach them from a mother’s heart. I see them, I hear them, I feel them. And I try to fight for them in the arts, through the arts, with the arts, to make this world a little more peaceful for them.

Ironically, I didn’t hear about Tyre Nichols in the U.S. right away, because I was focused on the protests against climate subsidies for fossil fuels in the Netherlands. I was hearing stories of how peaceful protesters were being treated by the police. ‘No justice, no peace!’ it sounded in The Hague. A researcher colleague shared in the news how 20 years ago they had submitted studies about the cost of fossil fuels, studies that apparently disappear in somebody’s desk. And so, I am not just caught up in the passion of the protesters, whatever their causes may be, but I am also caught up in how we got here and what role we play.

In the US the talk quickly resorts to the ‘rotten apple’ theory as it pertains to this particular police unit. But these police officers who once took an oath to protect and serve did not end up here out of the blue. What kind of environments have we created and have they been exposed to that somewhere they got the message that they could act in such an inhumane way? What kind of environment have we created where additional police members stand by and watch and don’t interfere as their colleagues beat somebody to death? How many more studies do we need to help us understand? How many more studies do we execute that disappear in someone’s desk? Who do we want to be as a society, locally, nationally, globally? What does it take, and what are we willing to do?

As I close the conversation with my oldest son I am sadly reminded that once again we have to have this conversation where we try to make sense of the world and try to comfort each other about being in it. As an artist I have encouraged him to use his art to make a contribution to this world, to channel his anger and frustration that way. Help us to see the alternatives that we need. I remember how dancers displayed our collective frustration and anger in their Clown and Crump dancing after the Rodney King beating. I remember the art murals in Ferguson after the death of Michael Brown. These artistic expressions serve as medicine, bring some type of balm, but is it enough? Right now I am at a loss for what can help, disrupt, heal, or re-align us with our humanity. How many of our efforts will disappear in somebody’s desk? Tyre Nichols took pictures of sunsets. What could be more peaceful than that, you would think? Yet, here we are still seeking for justice and peace. As words fall short, all I can offer silence, silence to reflect, go within, regroup and try again.