What George Floyd's death taught me about America

When George Floyd was murdered, I was 15 years old and in the second year in the high school. I remember that I saw the video and had the feeling that it confirmed something that I already suspected deep inside: they just don't take care of us.

“You” are the police, the white dominance, the system – America itself in many ways. It was a visual representation of how black men are treated in this country, how our lives are devalued right in front of our eyes.

I was at home when I saw it. I think I came across Snapchat first. Not the full video immediately, but the news about it. Finally I saw the whole thing. It made me sick. Here was a man who called for help and said he couldn't breathe, called for his mother, and the officer just pressed on his neck again and again.

It was as if he hadn't even seen George as a person. As if he weren't even human. The hurt the most. That someone could see a black man and show no regrets. No humanity. No mercy.

At 15 that changes.

It reminded me of all the times when blacks were brutalized in this country. Not just historical, but constantly. They begin that nothing will change. As if they were just doing it over and over again and getting away with it.

But something changed. At that moment the world rose. I joined the protests because I had the feeling that I had to. It wasn't even a question. If we say that we take care of each other, we have to appear if we want justice and change. We have to be the people we hope that they will be others.

So I went out to protest, not only for George Floyd, but for all of us. Because when black people come together to defend themselves, get up and say that this is not correct, I have hope. Even with all the pain, it showed me that we were united.

Now I'm 20 years old. Five years have passed since this video that has changed the world and has changed me. And I can say that I have not seen the same level of police force in our community since then. But I also noticed that we don't protest as much anymore. Maybe we're tired. Maybe we still heal. I know I'm.

Because although the protests have expired, fear is not. I still don't feel safe in the police. I do not trust you to treat me like a person when I call for help. God preserve when I am being run over or talk to a police officer – I think about how I move, what I say, how quickly I grab something – because a wrong step could be the end of myself just because I am black.

That hasn't changed.

What I can see five years later is the real unit in our community. Not only if there is a protest, but in our daily life. I want us to have the other's back. To support each other, they stand together and show each other as in 2020. We have power when we move as one.

And I want the police to stop abusing and abusing their power. I want you to see humanity in us. In order to treat us with the same care and the same respect, they would offer their own families. Because we are important. Our life is important. We are human.

I'm still healing, but I'm still here. Still appear. I still think we can be better. That this country can be better. If we continue to fight, we don't have to mourn. Not like that. Not again.

Phalen (PJ) Pounds is currently a student at Augsburg University.

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