WHEREWERE YOU?24th NOVEMBER, 2014

24th NOVEMBER 2014

WHERE WERE YOU ON 24TH NOVEMBER, 2014?

IN LOVING MEMORY OF MICHAEL BROWN

In 2010, one hundred and sixty two thousand federal cases went to trial.

Eleven did not.

This case is one of the 0.00068% that did not go to trial.

The fact that this case did not go to trial is sending out the message that black people are second class citizens – that a white police offcer can shoot a black man with impunity.

I was disgusted. I was disgusted that he was free.I was disgusted that people were supporting him. I was disgusted to be an American.

I turned away from my creative ecstasy in frustration. They were killing people at Ferguson.

I stopped writing for the whole day.

I went to work a comedy show. A fucking comedy show. The world was told to stay woke, and I convinced myself that it was appropriate to try and sleep. It’s too easy to get tired in an instance, not remembering that people shouldn’t be forced to live unrested: to be told to have sweet dreams when one eye must always sit open. Today, I’m awake.

My two housemates and I were sitting at the table in the morning having breakfast. I went on Tumblr and my dashboard was literally on fre with the news about Ferguson and the non-indictment. ‘You need to see this,’ I told my housemates. For the next hour the three of us sat there, quietly, each of us staring at her own computer screen, shocked and outraged as we followed the events unfolding in Ferguson.At lunch we sat at the table again and we spoke about Ferguson.At dinner we sat at the table again and we spoke about institutional racism, about the incomprehensible hatred some people feel towards other people just because of the colour of their skin, and we spoke about injustice, about the powerful and privileged getting away with murder over and over again, about the same groups of people being victimised over and over again, trying to imagine what it must feel like.We couldn’t. The three of us are white.The death of a young black boy and the gross injustice suffered by him and his family made us incredibly angry and sad. However, at the end of the day, we had the possibility to shut down our computers and go out for drinks in town and laugh with our friends and dance, and not be afraid. We had that possibility. And we know that so many others don’t.I am privileged.I cannot imagine what it feels like to lose your son and see his murderer get away with it just because he is white and in a position of power, and your son was not.I cannot imagine what it feels like to be systematically disadvantaged, to be systematically denied chances and opportunities, to be systematically dehumanised, by a system that perpetuates institutional racism.I cannot imagine what it feels like to have people hate you and fear you on account of the colour of your skin.I think if there is one lesson we should all learn from this terrible tragedy and so many others like it, it is this: if you are white and have not suffered systematic oppression and injustice of this kind, you are privileged. Even if you as an individual are not racist, you, merely by virtue of existing within a certain societal power structure, are implicated in oppression. This has nothing to do with your individual intentions: yet this is the way it is. The only way not to become part of the problem, then, is to actively stand up against racism and injustice. Stand up against it in your art, in your poetry, in the stories you tell your friends. Call out bigotry when you see it. Never question the validity of the feelings of a person who feels discriminated against or oppressed. You cannot undo your privilege, but you can use it in a way that is constructive towards building a better and fairer society.I think the thing that got to me the most were the tweets some people were posting about the protesters burning the American fag. ‘These animals burning the American fag should be executed live on television’, one of them said. It made me sick to my stomach that some people value a fag - a fucking  flag  - more than the lives of actual human beings.Later I read that, during the hearing, Darren Wilson had said of Michael Brown: ‘it look[ed] like a demon’. It. Not he. A demon. This is sickening and bone-chilling on a level words cannot describe. And it needs to fucking end.

Channel 202. I sat on the same couch in the same position in front of the same TV I had when the Zimmerman verdict was announced. Channel 202. I heard the words 'grand jury' and 'lack of evidence' and 'not indict' and I sobbed and screamed at my television, mostly in a show of rage. A futile fake-it-til-you-make-it effort to feel abhorrence or disgust. I felt only an overwhelming and all-consuming lack of surprise.

When I heard – my heart was heavy as I looked at my younger sister and fancé, wondering if this would ever stop being completely unsurprising.

It’s  Monday, November Twenty-Fourth. The time is  eight-ffteen P.M.  Central  Standard Time.  I’m at home. I’m  nervously  gripping  the  arm of  my  favorite  chair. My wife, who happens to be white, is  on the couch next to me. This is the moment that we’ve both been anticipating, and dreading, and agonizing over.  She  pulls  up a live  video  feed  of the presser on  CNN’s website. We’re  huddled  together,  watching on her small iPhone screen.  Saint Louis County Prosecuting  Attorney,  Robert McCulloch  walks out in front of the cameras  and takes his place  at the lectern. He begins to speak. He drones on and on,  rehashing the “facts” of the case, seemingly justifying the announcement to come;  bad-mouthing the  unarmed  victim, Michael Brown, as well as some  witnesses,  and  the  members of  Brown’s community  as a whole;  even  lecturing us  all  on  the evils of social media. He talks about everything  other  than that which we  are  so eagerly  waiting  to hear,  sidestepping the  very  question for which we are all so anxious to know the answer—had  the grand jury indicted  Offcer Darren Wilson for  Brown’s death?  The self-justifying press conference continues, so does the demonization of  Mike  Brown. Still, there is  no answer. Things go on like this  for about  eight  more agonizing  minutes. Finally, at about  eight-twenty-four  P.M.  Central Standard Time, a full  nine  minutes after the presser began, McCulloch,  at last,  addresses the question for which we are all so anxious to know the answer—had the grand jury indicted  Wilson for  the  fatal  shooting of Mike Brown?  The answer, of course,  is 'no.'  According to McCulloch,  the  grand jury  determined  that  'no  probable cause  exists to fle any charge against Offcer Wilson', and,  thus, they’d  returned  something called a  'no-true bill'  on each of the fve indictments.    He  goes on to  say  some other stuff,  too,  continuing to drone on-and-on,  but,  at this point,  I’m no longer listening. I am no longer hearing. I’m  far too busy  feeling.  I’m feeling shock.  This is the decision I expected. This is the decision I knew was coming, especially, once McCulloch  stepped up to that podium and  started spewing his nonsense. But knowing something,  intellectually, and feeling the impact of that something when it actually  occurs, are two completely  separate things.  I’m also feeling anger.  I’m shaking,  I  mean,  visibly  shaking.  There is no such thing as 'justice'. For me, for people who look like me,  justice  doesn’t exist.  My outrage renders me speechless. Tears stream  down my face. Tears of anger. Tears of  sadness.  Yes, sadness.  Despair.  A  feeling of helplessness. Damn  McCullough for this feeling.  McCullough, the supposed prosecutor, who, in this case, seems much more like a defence attorney. And damn the grand jury. Damn them for their decision. They may have been  given improper instructions. They may have  even  been  given incorrect case law in which to work. But damn them anyway. Damn them,  too,  for this feeling. And damn Darren Wilson. Damn him for murdering that young man  in cold blood.  Damn him for his lies.  Damn him  for his sickening  lack of remorse.    Damn him to hell  for this feeling. But most of all, damn the  system,  this racist fucking  system,  that routinely allows  white  men with guns to  kill  unarmed  black people  and get away with it.  People  who  look like me.  People  who look like my children.  Most of all, though, I’m feeling fear. I’m  chilled to the bone by a  cold realization—the realization that, in this country, people who look just like me, and just like my kids, can be gunned down in the streets with impunity, and the gunmen  can do so without any fear  of  reprisal or repercussion.  All they need  do is identify the victim as a criminal and a thug. All they have to do is tell us why he or she 'deserved it'.  This  is the very meaning of  fear. And, at this moment, with this grand jury decision, I am  absolutely  terrifed.  It’s Monday, November Twenty-Fourth.  The time is  about  eight-forty  P.M.  Central Standard Time.  I’m at home. I’m sitting in my  favorite  chair.  My wife is next to me on the couch.  The self-justifying press conference is  fnally  over. The question,  the question for which we are all so anxious to know the answer—had  the grand jury indicted white  police  offcer,  Darren Wilson,  for  the fatal shooting death of  unarmed  black  teen, Michael Brown?  That question has been answered  once and for all. There will be no indictment. There will be  no reckoning for Darren Wilson. There will be  no justice for Michael Brown,  or his family.    A larger question’s been answered  too.  Do black lives matter? Do my children and I, do  people who  look  like my children and I, in this  society,  do  our lives  really  matter?  Indeed, that question, too, has  been answered  once and for all,  and, unfortunately,  society’s  answer,  as it has always been,  is,  resoundingly, infuriatingly, depressingly  and frighteningly, 'no'. 

It was 2:09am GMT when I heard Michael Brown's killer would not be indicted. I was watching the last episode of Season 3 of Homeland on Netfix. I knew because BBC News app on my phone sent me the 'breaking news' notifcation and I clicked on it. The App wasn't particularly helpful at giving me info so I took to Twitter to fnd more about the verdict. Initial feelings? Disgust and disappointment. Disgusted that someone could lie about what happened and get away with it and disappointment in the US.

I found out that night. I couldn't believe it, I'd seen it coming but God, I didn't want to believe it.

Funny – just last week I heard one of them, my drum major, calling a guy the n word in the lunch line. It was horrible. They were focusing this on them, trying to make me and everyone else wanting justice seem like the bad people. They didn't even care that a person died or that people will continue to be murdered. No. Instead they focused on portraying me and my friend as racist for saying 'white'. Jesus Christ, I have never seen a race want to be oppressed so badly. And a point they made was that I'm not black, so why am I worried about it? Well, I'm Mexican, and while I may face racism on a different level than black people, both races know what it's like to be stripped of their rights. I've known what it was like since I was 4 and I swear when I heard the news I felt a pain I have never before felt. It's disgusting, really. How can we continue to trust such a corrupt government? It's scary to live in a nation based off white supremacy. I'm still angry about it, only now I'm more scared. You never know who or what is next. If a white man can get away with murder in this country, he can get away with anything.

I was waiting. They said it would be announced in a few minutes and my news app was refreshing so slowly. Then fnally I saw it: no indictment for Darren Wilson. No justice for Michael Brown. My heart sank and my anger ignited at the thought of our justice system ignoring the faws it has. My heart sank for the Brown family and for so many other families that suffer due to the acceptance of a broken and exclusionary system.

I was watching the news with my father, and he doesn't know English but he knew what the verdict was when he saw my face. He cried with me and said it was stupid to come to this country thinking his kids would be safe. 'Porque machetes y palos ahora son pistolas, y la policía se queda la policía.' Because machetes and sticks are guns now, and the police are still the police.

When I frst heard that Wilson wasn't going to be charged with anything, I was speechless. Then I began to cry when I realised the message the decision sent to black people: that our lives don't matter.

I found out right after getting up. I saw an American friend's Facebook status, which just said, 'Jesus.'

and I didn't quite realise what it was about until I checked the news and saw the verdict. Yeah, Jesus.

I found out how most people might have found out, and it was through social media. I'm so thankful for our generation of social media – I don't care that people always shit on us, but without us being masters of technology I wouldn't have known what was going on in Ferguson since the news wasn't broadcasting it. My reaction was mostly fear: I became afraid of the society I live in. I became afraid of being a minority, and I became afraid for what the future might bring, living in the U.S.

The frst time I heard about what was going on in Ferguson, it was after the the rioting had begun. I was a week behind on the news, and was too busy. When I heard about it I couldn't believe it. I immediately went online, and looked it up on CNN, Huffngton Post, even Reddit, trying to fgure out what had happened and WHY everyone was rioting in the streets. I watched videos with horror and wondered, why did this happen? Why did any of it happen? Will it end?

What I'm most struck by is my capacity for hope. Somewhere inside me there burns a fame, lit for a world where colour won't really matter. Where my blackness will be celebrated and not demonised. Whether I'll see it in my lifetime is something I debate with myself constantly. I must've been asleep when it was announced. As soon as I woke up I reached for my iPad to check for the result and the reactions. America was true to form. America failed yet again. America spat in the face of humanity, as it has done time and time again since the arrival of the 'pilgrims'. Darren Wilson walked free, pockets heavy with fnancial security from his paid leave. Inevitably, I felt the rage rise to my head. I thought of Michael Brown, innocent, dead, and cold in the ground. I thought of Trayvon Martin, innocent, dead and cold in the ground: and of all my brothers and sisters who have been murdered in cold blood for no legitimate reason. The struggle, the relentless battle that black people have fought with quiet anger and immeasurable strength since our ancestors were forcibly removed to America leaves me stunned. I have aligned myself with the fact that part of my life will have to contain all these emotions and I will still have to continue to fght in any capacity to further the cause of my kin across the world. I will fght 'til my dying breath. At this moment, though, I am exhausted.

I was making dinner in the kitchen with MSNBC on. When I looked up, I glanced at their breaking news banner that said Darren Wilson wouldn't be indicted.

I simply said, 'Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. Once, just once, would've been nice.'

I was online in the morning when I saw various articles about the verdict. Looking through the information I could fnd, I was unsurprised it was what it was. I was livid and despairing. It's so wrong. I could only think: 'How can this be the world that I live in?'

It happened in the morning. I didn't check the news until after my frst class, but that's not how I found out anyway. I was about to go for lunch with my friend – I found him outside Subway. The frst thing he said to me was, 'Whites are trash.' I didn't ask why, because it happens. I just shrugged it off until later, fguring it was standard. He explained what had happened to me over coffee – the indictment, or lack of – and all I had to say in return? 'I'm disgusted, but I'm not surprised.'

It had been such a busy week that I almost forgot about the grand jury in Ferguson. I had just moved back in with my mother who has MS, helping her unpack, working my low-wage paying job and looking for a new one.

When it all happened at frst, when the news broke that a young black boy had been shot I wasn’t at all surprised, especially since it was in St. Lewis. But reading up on it I found myself appalled at it all. How he was shot from 35ft away, how the multiple eyewitness reports went unheard, how the forensic team didn’t take pictures, all of it. I felt sick that this is what has become of this country of ours.

I heard about the Grand Jury while I was with my stepdad and told me what had happened. I felt my heart sink to the pit of my stomach, not because of the verdict, but because I knew what was going to come. More violence and more unrest for the black community in Ferguson, more militarization of the police force, more tear gas, fash bombs, rubber bullets, all of it. I feared for the people in that town.As of right now, I still feel that fear. I wish, to the bottom of my soul, that I could go down there and stand side by side with the protesters.As of right now, a quote comes to mind:'To the people of Ferguson. If you choose protest, we are with you. If you choose Revolution, we are with you. Just be safe.'.

I heard that Darren Wilson had not been indicted whilst listening to the World Service radio in the early hours of the morning. My reaction was to wonder what the phrase 'grand jury' actually meant. Not being cognisant with American law I am ignorant of the specifc terminology, but there seemed to be something that didn’t add up. The evidence that has been presented through various media channels in the UK would suggest that a serious crime had taken place; under American law I don’t know whether it would stand as manslaughter, murder or assassination … but a serious crime nonetheless in which a man was killed. Hearing that a 'grand jury' was not going to throw the book at the person who had taken that life was confusing … and troubling. It widens the gaps between Law and Justice, Black and White, Rich and Poor; and that is not conducive to a civilised and healthy society.

I got home from school on November 25th, 2014. I remember getting on my phone and seeing a post from a now ex-friend on Facebook, saying something like 'How do the people in Ferguson have time to protest all day instead of going to jobs? Oh wait.' I was almost sick. And I started getting more and more angry and sad. I am 17 years old. And my future is already flled with racism and injustice.

I was staying up super late procrastinating starting my Physics lab write-up, I saw the Tumblr posts frst. The Facebook statuses only began fooding my phone the next morning.

I'm in the US military. I was in the barracks when the indictment was announced – I'd been waiting anxiously all day, checking news outlets at every break in work, checking my phone to make sure I hadn't received a text about then. Then as soon as I got home, as I was hitting refresh on a BBC page about it, my roommate told me about it. Her voice was quiet and calm. We were both too shocked to voice the outrage inside us. Texts asking me whether sailors are allowed to protest came just a little later.

It was Tuesday morning in Australia; I was at work that day. I had looked at the news before work, and I knew the verdict was going to be announced in a few hours. Some co-workers were checking the news periodically too. By 12:30 pm it still hadn't been announced, so we went to lunch. We came back laughing and chatting, sharing jokes, passing food around. We were still giggling when my friend pulled up the news. 'Guys, Darren Wilson isn't being indicted.''Are you serious?''Yeah.' She looked defeated.An older colleague said, 'I can't say I was expecting anything different.'My friend replied, 'Yeah, I'm angry. And sad. But not surprised.'I couldn't disagree with them about not being surprised. I wished I could.

I was sitting at home with my family watching the televised event. I was with my two aunts, one from out of town, and my cousin. I felt like this is what I expected, this white man was going to be free like many others after executing a young black boy. This was a child that had yet to experience life, and this boy died with his hands up like many of us young black boys are taught to do at such a tender young age. I then looked at my 17, almost 18 year old cousin, and felt fear. He was suppose to be going out that night, but all I wanted was for him to stay inside. It could be him! The next one killed. This case was another validation that it was OK to kill a young black male.

I stayed up until 2am in London to hear the decision, so I was already pissed that the dude started 15 minutes late. Before the end of the frst minute, I knew exactly what was coming. I hung my head in shame for the next 45 minutes at my home country and my father's hometown.

I have the BBC app on my phone and had been following the news all day that the decision would be released. I heard a buzz on my phone, jumped off my bed and excitedly read the line. Until my eyes fell on the words 'not indicted'. From standing, I sunk to my knees, eyes glued to something I hoped was false.

I think it was on the news, either on TV or on Tumblr. Maybe both. I didn't really notice and I can't remember when I heard about it frst but it made me feel sick. 2 black men are killed every week by police in the US, I guess that's why I didn't notice. If anything, the fact that it happens ALL THE TIME ought to make us even more aware that something is fucked. But I didn't notice at frst, even if it made me sick.

I watched the announcement live. I knew what the result would be, they made it obvious with the 'preparations' and the way they listed excuses before announcing it. I was very upset, but not surprised. It was mind blowing, but at the same time not shocking. I felt both those things at one time. As a black person you get used to not being treated like a person. I've reached the point where I just look for the least anti-black person I can fnd. And I realize how very sad that is.

My girlfriend and I were on FaceTime, watching the live stream. As McCulloch spoke, I was legitimately convinced that he was the defence lawyer. I heard the words 'not indicted' and I slammed the laptop shut. We cried. The anger grew the more I learned about the case.

I knew he wasn't going to be indicted. When it was made offcial, I could truly see that they don't care about the lives of black people. Over any other thing it did to me, it mostly hurt me that things like this still happen in an 'equal' society.

I was watching the announcement live on TV. As the prosecutor started talking, I was flled with disgust. I knew what was going to happen. He was trying to manipulate us to agree with the decision. And then he said that there was no indictment. I cried. I watched my friends go out and protest, and wished that I was brave enough to do so. But I realized that my colored life meant nothing to authorities, and I wasn't ready to die because some racist cop wanted to make an example of me.

My friends and I were all just in the living room when I saw a live stream of the verdict so we put it on and waited for it to happen. It wasn't a huge surprise that there was no indictment, it's pretty representative of the system that the world lives in – not just the US, but this hierarchy of 'race' exists all around the world. Anyway, when the verdict came through none of us were surprised but it was horrible, especially being a kid growing up in Hackney (before the gentrifcation).

I'd seen this discrimination, albeit not to the same extent as in America, perpetrated against friends and family. In fact, after 7/7 my grandparents friends house got raided at 3am and they dragged his wife out of bed and down the stairs, before searching the whole house and then leaving without charging. But yeah, when the verdict came through we weren't surprised but we were still pretty upset so we started looking around if there were gonna be any protests or just something we can do (fying over to Ferguson was a real suggestion) which is when we found the protest page, and joined it straight away.

I've been to a few protests in my relatively short life time (million man march against the Iraq war, ALL the Palestine protests this summer, Occupy and so on and so forth) and I can say that I feel like this one probably had the biggest impact out of all of them. It showed that you don't need a massive amount of people to be seen and heard.

The spontaneity of how we moved through London was so amazing. Imagine how many people on the sidewalk flmed and shared it? This protest has set the bar for all future protests in the UK.

I followed this case since it became public. He was unarmed and his hands were up. Easy case. Open and shut. As time went on I knew it was more than that. If this verdict came back not guilty, it would be chaos. I sat and watched as time ticked to the announcement of the verdict. Then it happened. And I sat. And stared. And prayed that what I thought would happen, didn't. I saw the post being put up live on Tumblr. Rubber bullets, tear gas, riot gear, unlawful arrests. Violence. Always violence.

My parents called me two days before it happened and said that if I was driving to Kansas City to see my friend over Thanksgiving break, I should be careful and consider not going, 'just in case they protest'- as if they already knew. I had hope, I really did, and when I woke up and read my news app and saw the pictures, I was not surprised, no. As a minority, I see this as a show of just how much those in power can get away with today – so long as the victim isn't white. And I'm scared.

I am at work, checking out the Tumblr posts. It's 3pm. I came across lots of posts with this same issue from so many Tumblr users. I couldn't understand what it was about since I don't watch the news (had to Google it). This news is not shocking at all.

Happens all the time. A white guy shoots a black guy, walks out declared as innocent. Sickening world where humans are not valued as humans but the colour of our skins certifes our worthiness.

That Monday night, I fell asleep from working all day. I didn’t want to hear the verdict because growing up black in this country you KNOW the verdict by now, but you want to give 'the land of the free' the beneft of the doubt.

When I fnally woke up, I found out through my parents and brother. Their actions were nonchalant, but their voices quivered in anger and trailed off in a tone of 'I knew it'. I didn’t feel anything when I frst heard the verdict. I didn’t want to. I am so sick and tired of being sad and angry. I did things to take my mind off of it.

But a day after the verdict, I rose up ‘cause these are my people being MURDERED because of the enactment of martial law and pure hatred of a certain race. Then, I thought about the devastation that weighed down his mother and loved ones.

Eventually, rage and worry, for my brother and 5 year old cousin, brought me to tears and then to the pen where I wrote poems. I also signed petitions and I am committed to raising awareness about our shady government and the industry of racism.

I was in a computer lab where people were practicing English. Someone next to me was taking a test online and was making little noises when she got things wrong. I saw a mention, on Facebook somewhere, and opened up a linked article. She made that noise again, a sad noise, and I thought she was making it because she was angry too. I thought everyone was paying attention to this.

I had just gotten home from the movies – the movie was good. I went upstairs to use the bathroom, and came down to my dad staring open-mouthed at the TV. CNN was on, and the bottom of the screen said 'No Indictment'. My heart absolutely sank, and I wanted to hear more and less at the same time. It's hard to say I was surprised, though.

I was making dinner for me and my longterm boyfriend. We live in California so the news came around 6 or 7. All day I was anxious, I mean I have been for the past week. I truly felt like there was no hope of justice. My boyfriend comes in and he asks where my phone is, if the announcement has been made. It was, and we both sunk. All I could think about is praying to god (or whoever is up there) that our future children won't be next.

Since childhood, it's been a long-term goal of mine to move to the States. The night of the verdict, I was dreaming about getting off a bus in New York and fnally achieving my goal.

Then I woke up, checked the news and, all of a sudden, my childhood dream didn't seem so shiny and good any more.

What do you do when that happens? Jesus, I'm a 16 year old girl and even I know right from wrong. I didn't know what to do besides make sure everyone knew. I felt helpless, so I went on Twitter and retweeted almost everything I saw to spread awareness. I guess I was even more disgusted when white girls from my school began attacking me. It seemed that the term 'white people' offended them.

I was downstairs watching The Voice with my mother and sister. The ruling was something I considered important, so I let myself be down there. It wasn't easy. I spent much of the time feeling incredibly awkward as we waited to fnd out the decision. I was the only one of us who had actually done research on Ferguson.

Things got even more awkward when my mother and sister, both pacifsts, said that they thought Wilson had done the right thing. It made me feel sick, not to mention incredibly isolated and alone. When they announced the ruling, I was not surprised. I saw it coming. But I was angry. I am eighteen years old. I am the same age as Michael Brown.

And the truth is that someone my age – barely a legal adult – died. He should not have died. He should not have been left on the street for hours in broad daylight. Wilson murdered him. We cannot choose who lives and who dies. Now our eyes are opening. We are ready.

I was lying in bed when I found out. I saw a post on Tumblr, but it didn't click until the foodgates opened and everyone started posting about it. My frst instinct was to yell. My second instinct was to run. I got out of bed and paced around, angrily and without purpose. I didn't want to read the ignorance that would surely surface on Facebook. I tried talking to my family about it, but I was met with a wall of ignorance, so I got back in bed, and I sat with myself in silent anger and sadness.

I was lying in bed, waiting for the verdict. I was talking to my best friend, and both of us were refreshing the news. My phone wouldn't load, but I heard 'NO INDICTMENT IN FERGUSON CASE' from the TV in my living room.

My hands were shaking. I was so angry. My friend and I texted each other back and forth for a few minutes, ranting about how messed up it was, and then I went and cried in the shower.

When I got home from school I turned on the TV and changed the channel to CNN. And then to BBC. And our local news station. Everywhere they were talking about Ferguson. I couldn't believe it. How are you able to shoot a boy who was unarmed and had his arms up? Why would you? I feel like this is pure injustice. I'm so frustrated and keep sucking in any information I can get. I am still incredibly shocked. I really hope that this is not the end of this story.

I had been following the story closely all day. I had been waiting on that damn grand jury to hurry up and indict him. Despite the indicators, like the state of emergency, I was hopeful. I should not have been. It has been two days. I am still furious.

I woke up, stretched, lit a cigarette. I walked out into the hall, mostly naked and stumbling in the dark. The tv was on but I wasn't listening until "Ferguson" rang out like a siren. I placed myself on the couch by Mom.

We have family not far, in East Missouri and other towns across the river. I shivered. This wasn't mob, but the beginnings of war. I wondered why the police didn't use tear gas on Mr. Brown like they did so easily on the crowd.

I found out about Darren Wilson being found innocent while I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed. Everyone had made posts about it, people were indifferent, enraged, happy, it was really confusing. I didn't know how to feel about it at frst, but then I thought about the fact the Mike Brown is not the only one. Mike Brown's story is a common one and thats when I started to get really mad. Even though the whole world was watching, there was still corruption and a lack of true justice.

Shamefully, my frst thought was, 'Well, that kind of thing doesn't happen here in the UK' which is, if understandable, callous, short-sighted and arrogant. And as I thought about that, I realised that this sort of thing has happened here. Jean Charles De Menezes. So I posted Chris Woods' song, Hollow Point, on my blog, which is a somewhat pathetic contribution, but the only coherent thought I had.

As an aspiring lawyer, waking up to the news and learning about how blatant injustice exists in what some call the 'frst world' made me question a few things: who is going to help change the system, and how? I don't have answers, but I know that the onus is on my generation to end the injustice.

I had just come home from an open mic event. I hadn't heard about the verdict until a suite-mate mentioned that Obama would be commenting on the case at 10pm on CNN. We sat there for about 2 hours listening and watching. I had this feeling inside. I had to get up and do SOMETHING. I wanted to protest but didn't know if anyone else would join me...within 30 mins I had joined a group of about 100 people and we all marched to the Richmond Police Station. Hands up, don't shoot.

I had just gotten out of my Bio midterm. It was harder then I was expecting and goddamn I was trying not to be upset, trying to stay positive, telling myself that the world would still spin if failed.

And then I checked my phone and I saw it and felt a stone settle in my stomach. And I didn't cry because I wasn't surprised. But I could help thinking that the world should have stopped for this.

It was 3:00pm, I was just getting in the car after school. It was 36 degrees Celsius – I'd just had P.E. I was hot and sweating. In that moment I hated living in Australia.

I sat down and my mum was looking angry. I asked her what was up and she replied 'He got off. The Ferguson cop got off.'

She had just heard it on the car radio. The worst part was that I wasn't even surprised, and in that moment I didn't want to live in the world anymore.

1. Monday evening: curled up with a cup of chai, scrolling through Facebook, fltering through the attack of "10 Unknown Facts About Me!" statuses when I fnd a friend's response: "I'm done." Refresh, and a food of statuses, updates, and stories about the decision come to life; Tumblr fguratively explodes with #ferguson.

2. The chai turns cold. I am frighteningly aware of how lucky and stupid I am; it makes me sick with shock and anger. Injustice: I have no words. Uzo Aduba's status undoes me.

I literally wouldn't have found out if it wasn't for Tumblr. Suddenly my dash was all Ferguson and I was like, 'this can't be good'. It wasn't. I was disgusted, but unsurprised. And now I'm just scared, for black people and this world in general.

I had signed up to receive a text when the

outcome was announced. I was in the shower when my phone vibrated. I read it and immediately started

crying. When I got out of the shower, I could here people chanting, 'Black lives matter!' outside. I got dressed and ran outside to join them.

I found out via Tumblr. My dash was alight with outrage. I was proud that those I followed, cared, and 'got it', but so, so angry that this exists as a thing 'to get'. I decided to largely keep quiet online, but went to the US Embassy protest in London with a couple of societies from my university. It's all just so sad, that we have to fght for this, as a white person it's a sharp wakeup call to the system I'm complicit in all too easily.

I'm in the UK so when I woke up I saw the news on my phone. I sat for a while and read about it, trying to fgure out how it was possible to come up with that verdict, but I came up with nothing that could justify it. In school no one was talking about it. It was mentioned on the news but the magnitude of what had happened didn't come across at all. I am horrifed at the whole situation to be honest. It's disgusting, why haven't we learned anything from history, for fuck's sake?

It was a very busy day for me between classes and homework so I wasn't online much, but I happened to be scrolling Twitter and saw a few angry but vague tweets. I had a hunch so I quickly googled 'Ferguson' and in an instant it felt like the foor beneath me had vanished. I turned to my boyfriend, expecting him to be as upset as I was, but he grimaced and shrugged and said, 'I'm really not surprised.'

When I went to dinner, one of the TVs in the cafeteria had CNN on, which was covering the grand jury's failure to indict Darren Wilson.

I had woken up from a nap only minutes earlier, but any grogginess I had was totally replaced with rage and anger. And then I felt great sadness, because I knew what this meant for millions of people.

Finding out what happened just descended into a blur of fghting with people I know. I didn't even have the energy to want to explain to him why it was unfair, but I felt cornered by them in their insistence that it was a just result. I gave up and went home. I don't really want to talk about it anymore.

Standing on the stage behind the podium a small, round man spoke to the crowd with fervor but also had some forced reservations about the words he was spouting from his gullet.'We fnd this man to be guilty of no crime and therefore he is not to stand trial for any charge brought against him.'The gallery inside the courtroom groaned and rolled their eyes. The mass of people outside of the courtroom wept, collapsing one by one until all that remained of the mass of protestors was a weeping, heaving mass of human beings broken down to nothing.'Justice is served, or not. Depending on your political beliefs and also your ethics and also all of this is meaningless,' said the news anchor just before the camera cut away from her putting a gun to her head.It was the future but a lot of people still lived as if it were in the distant past. Glorifying murderers and people who discriminated against anything and everything they could; they were known as white people. They had brought this on themselves. It started by kidnapping entire villages and then forcing them to work for free with terrible treatment as slaves. It continued then as ‘Hero Cop (white) shoots and murders unarmed (black) teenager’. It was utter horse shit and people were growing increasingly tired of all that bullshit.Myself included. Why is it that cops get called heroes for shooting unarmed, underage, black boys? Yet a black woman fres a warning shot (AS IN; NOT AT ANYONE) to escape her abusive husband and she gets 25 years without parole. Are you serious?Are you not seeing the wild, rampant, institutionalized injustice in this country? It is called American racism and it is SO real you don’t see it because IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN HERE.So I think our best plan of action here is we all go buy guns and shoot a cop. There are more of us who are angry than there are cops who are guilty. See a cop? Shoot a cop. Simple as that. It wouldn’t be too different from what they’ve been doing to our sons, bothers, friends, husbands, and boyfriends since this shit stain of a country came to be. Or maybe we can turn the table and start a movement and fnally say that all of this is bullshit and we’re fed up. Either way all of this is fucking terrible and I’m tired of being embarrassed by my country, my government, and the people who are supposed to protect us. Who will protect us from them?

I woke up in the morning and checked Twitter to fnd this news. It literally broke my heart. I felt angry, but more and more helpless. What made it worse is these white people acting like it was well deserved. It was at that point that I lost the little respect I had for white people.

I no longer have any faith in white institutions. White universities, white unions, white police systems – screw them all. We will self-organise and we will need to fx everything ourselves.

The frst time I heard anything about Ferguson or Michael Brown was almost a month ago, it surprises me that it’s only been that long and there’s already a steady decrease in the amount of visibility Ferguson is getting now. When the news of Darren Wilson’s non-indictment broke, I frst saw it on Tumblr, which is always the quickest and the angriest to react.

I was on a bus going to attend a lecture, and after a tense ffteen minutes of worrying if I was going to pop a blood vessel from the sheer anger coursing through me, I calmed down; I went to my lecture. I got on another bus and I came home. I did not pop a vessel, I didn’t start a protest and by the time I got home, the story had, in fact, faded into the background of news stories we’re all exposed to on a daily basis.

That kind of apathy provides a telling commentary to racial crimes, wherein an eighteen year old can be murdered in cold blood and still not leave a lasting impression. I only remembered it once I went online and saw the incredibly vicious smear campaign mainstream media and the authorities themselves seemed determined to lead to vilify a dead teenager to let a white police offcer remain free.

The racial logic behind things which are supposed to be neutral which makes things like law enforcement, whose entire business of existence depends on fairness, become unfair. Michael Brown was not the frst nor will he be the last unless we continue with our anger and see through the racist blinds that mainstream media and the authorities would have us look through.

What did I feel when I heard? Despair. Emptiness. But more than anything else, a tragic sense of 'business as usual.' That a young man with his whole life to experience had it ripped from him and there is not even the facade of justice meant that, somehow, this was a new low. That for all of our vaunted progress as a society, we are still those half-formed children pointing fngers at those who are different from us.

The Ferguson riots are making us look bad - because it should never have come to this. Because the grand jury should never have failed to indite Darren Wilson. Because it should never have taken over 100 days for this case to reach a court.

Because the police and corporate media should never have lied to us. Because the national guard should never have been deployed against the people. Because the police should never have violated the constitutional right to assemble and speak. Because the community of Ferguson should never have needed to assemble and speak.

Because Mike Brown’s murdered should have been arrested. Because Mike Brown’s body should never have been left out in the streets. Because Mike Brown should never have been murdered.

Because the discrimination that allows a mostly white police force for a black town should never have been legal. Because racist lending policies and redlining that helped create the skewed racial demographics of towns like Ferguson should never have existed.

Because it never should have taken so long to pass the Civil Rights Act. Because it should never have taken that much longer to actually (begrudgingly) enforce it. Because Jim Crow laws should never have been in effect.

Because it should never have taken a war and an constitutional to end most forms of slavery. Because slavery should never have happened.

But it did. And we, as a nation, are proving, again and again, that the murder of Black children in our streets is not only acceptable, but intentional. We are a people who, when confronted with the grief, and anger, and fear of a people who have been subjected to almost 500 years of systemic terrorism, see only senseless violence. And that is no mistake, because mistakes repeated often enough become decisions. So every non-Black person who is not actively fghting for the lives of Black people is complicit in the death of Mike Brown. Darren Wilson may have pulled the trigger, but we steadied the gun.

It was around 3am. I had just heard the verdict on the television - listening in from all the way across the pond. Little drops of hints fall and shattered like a bomb. It became more and more clear that the verdict was going to go in favour of the police offcer who killed Mike Brown.

My sadness was void, instead flled by an inherent cynical expectation of that this was more of the same. As moods dim across the web of friends and activists I know who stayed up to hear the verdict. We all sunk into a depressive and somber state, that nothing ever changes and instead gets more and more entrenched everyday. Until a split second, when I realised that I and others have been dealing with this every day of our lives - now of all times was not the time to stop.

In fact, if there was anyone who could at least mark this incident, from all the way across the Atlantic Ocean, in solidarity and in disgust, it would be the young black activists around me that have continued to fght in which ever way they can, despite their work or family commitments, despite personal problems and the daily drudgery of living in this country. We had to shake off the mist of sombre mood that had began to set on us and stand up in solidarity.

Write about how you found out Darren Wilson was not indicted on 24th November 2014.

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