Chapter 7
Healing begins where the wound was made.
—Alice Walker
IN THE LAST FOUR MONTHS OF 2015, I met several women who would become very important in my life. It started in September when I was contacted and asked to go to Chicago to meet Hillary Clinton. I suppose she had heard about us mothers and our fledgling group of activists. I was excited to meet her because everyone knew she was running for president on the Democratic ticket against Bernie Sanders. I felt so blessed that she was asking me to meet with her.
It still astounded me that I was getting calls from people like her who traveled in much different circles than I could ever imagine. I was learning that along with this activism there are some highs, some successes, and many more lows. Trying to effect change is never easy and never fast—that’s what I was learning. Getting that morsel of success from the state of New York took a lot of work by a lot of people. And even that still didn’t guarantee anything, but it was a start. You take those wins where you can get them, I was learning.
There were lots of those ups and downs, and that roller coaster of emotions was just something that you had to get used to. I think that’s why many people who get involved with being active in the community give up after a little while. It’s just too hard and too defeating to keep hearing “no.” I’m from Brooklyn, and I was raised to stand tough when things got difficult. I had no intention of giving up at this point. Granted, in the beginning there were some moments when I allowed those thoughts to dance around in my head, especially as I stood out in the rain or snow trying to hand information to people who didn’t want it.
Yet I didn’t give up. One thing that I figured out was that just because we heard “no” didn’t mean it was always going to be like that. It just meant “no” for the moment. A lot of people, maybe even Cynthia and the others at NAN, probably thought I would say, “OK, this is enough for me,” and I would go away, stop pressing for change, stop using whatever platform I had to call folks out when they were talking foolish. I wasn’t about to do that, and I think when people kept seeing me show up at events and saw me on TV or in the newspaper whenever there was an announcement related to police violence or brutality, it kept reminding people that I was still there. I was not going anywhere. Since neither of my sons could be there, this was my responsibility, and I was taking it very seriously.
Yes, I might be a quiet grandmother without a big bank account or high-powered friends, but one of those factors was definitely changing. I was meeting some important people, and they were listening to me. To me! I felt like with each new meeting, I was connecting with someone who might be able to help. I could just imagine what Eric and even Emery would have thought of me at the Prince concert, or meeting JAY-Z or Hillary. They would have been very excited about that.
On September 29, I was flown to Chicago, and there were maybe twelve other mothers there. They brought us together in a private room at a Black-owned restaurant in the heart of the city. As we gathered and sat down, we all looked at each other with stunned expressions. I had met most of the mothers, but there were a couple whom I didn’t know, so we made our introductions. There wasn’t a whole lot of talk, though. It was almost like we were reverent. I think they were surprised to be there too. Just yesterday, I was in my living room talking to my husband, and today I was meeting Hillary Clinton. If I thought about it too much, it was just a lot to process, and I wanted to stay focused. I wanted to hear what she had to say.
Then the door swung open, and there she was. Hillary Clinton came in with a couple of people from her team and greeted us immediately. There was no press and no grandstanding. She talked to us about her mission and her ideas, and it was very heartfelt. She said that she had seen each of us in the press and was aware of what we were trying to do. She found our causes very noble and very necessary. She thought we might be able to help each other.
She talked to us as a mother, a protector, someone who wanted the best for future generations. That’s what we were all there for. Of course, we wanted justice for the deaths of our children and would never stop fighting for that, but the fact was that they were gone, and we couldn’t do anything to bring them back. What we were doing was for all of the others in harm’s way, those who felt threatened and intimidated and treated as less than they deserved. That was the big picture for all of us. If we could turn our tragedies into something that helped another innocent person, regardless of race, then, as mothers, that’s what we knew in our hearts was right.
Hillary proposed that we join her campaign in 2016, as we were able, and talk to people at her events. That would give us more exposure and a chance to talk to more people about our mission. I was impressed that she had reached out to us, because none of the other candidates did that and she didn’t have to, but she did. During that meeting she really listened to us. She focused on each one of the mothers and talked to us directly as individuals, taking notes herself on a small pad.
It gave me a new insight into what a politician could be. I’d already met and worked with several at the state and even national level trying to get a fair trial for my son, so I was somewhat familiar with how they operated. I know they were all doing their jobs, but I also knew there is a lot of deal making and agreements of this for that in order to get things done. I just didn’t feel like some politicians I had met were in it for the right reasons. It felt like they wanted something, whether it was to be in the limelight or to get attention for their legislation so that they could take credit, or to be associated with a “mother” to help soften their image and make them more relatable.
Some people think that just because I’m not very vocal, I might not be in tune with things that are going on or that people are taking advantage of me. Believe me, as a mother who has raised many children, especially through those teen years, I know how to read people, and I know what is going on even if someone doesn’t tell me about it. And just because I don’t say everything that I’m thinking all the time, the way some folks do, that doesn’t mean I’m not aware. Believe me, Gwen Carr is woke!
After meeting so many different people on this journey, I’ve become a pretty good judge of character, and to me, Hillary came across as very sincere and very understanding about the situations and struggles that we had endured. I think the thing that really clicked was that she understood that our maternal instincts are what pushed us to continue, what gave us the strength to keep going and work nonstop to get justice for our loved ones. She had true empathy and compassion, and I can tell you that’s not easy to find or easy to convey, especially from someone in a position of power. She didn’t talk down to us, and she wasn’t dismissive or anything like that. She truly listened, and that felt good.
As we left that meeting, she asked us to think about joining her in her mission to change the country for the better. It felt like a good collaboration between the potential first female president of the country and a group of women who were being collectively referred to as “The Mothers of the Movement,” which referred to the Black Lives Matter movement that was becoming more mainstream after so many Black deaths at the hands of law enforcement. Hillary stressed that it was up to each of us individually to decide whether this was right for us and whether we felt comfortable supporting her.
I left that meeting and went home once again feeling energized and encouraged. I had gone from marching down the street in the hot sun to meeting with the woman who was running for president of the United States. It was kind of unbelievable that these types of opportunities continued to come up. Each time I received an invitation like that I was honored by it.
Cynthia Davis was proud of how far I’d come. She told me, “My first impression of you was a person who had just lost a son. You looked like a brokenhearted mother.” She said that she respected the fact that while I was angry about what happened to my son, I wasn’t bitter or negative toward people, and I always focused on nonviolent solutions. She said that, as many years as she had been working in the community, she was surprised at how well I was handling not only Eric’s death but all that had happened since then, the good and the bad.
Cynthia taught me that it is OK to disrupt the status quo and shake up business as usual; in fact, she encouraged it. She took me out every Tuesday and Thursday to protest and raise awareness, and I did it because I could see the big picture. I never expected it to get this big, like meeting Hillary, but I hoped that I was making a difference. During those first protests, it was sometimes just Cynthia and me, and she was always patient and encouraging. We stuck with it, and soon others were joining, and our group got bigger each day. That’s where the momentum started, and this meeting gave me the feeling that things were going to a whole new level. Cynthia kept reminding me that people really respond to me and she could tell I was reaching them with my story. That encouragement helped to keep me going.
Fresh off the meeting with Hillary Clinton, I attended my second Congressional Black Caucus forum, and I met many people who became very important to me and my mission. During the conference, I was at the criminal justice seminar headed by Congresswoman Maxine Waters. I was there with Ben, and at the end of the event Congresswoman Waters introduced me to the attendees. There was a woman sitting behind us, and after the presentation she came up, introduced herself, and gave us her condolences. Then she handed me a card that read “Why Tommy?” and it had her name on it—Nadine “Nadia” Fischer. She is CEO of the Why Tommy Initiative, and she is an advocate for the wrongfully convicted and a supporter of LGBT rights.
After the convention, I was helping raise money for the Million Man March that was coming up. So I sent Nadia Fischer an email and asked her whether she would like to donate so that I could get a group of mothers together to attend the march. I wanted to organize transportation and to make it easier for them to attend. I had learned from Cynthia that getting people to show up was the first step of activism. And the best way to do that is to make it as easy as possible. That way, you remove one roadblock. One of the first things someone will say is that they don’t have a way to get there. If you remove that issue from the equation, how can they say no?
I contacted a lot of people and requested their support with time, a monetary donation, or both. I was learning fast that once you ask for money, people are often quick to shut you out or they go dark, totally ignoring you. Some people were kind enough to say either that they would or that they were not in a position to do so, but many just did not respond. However, Nadia was one of the gracious people who donated, and that meant a lot to me. She even knew someone in Washington, DC, whom she convinced to help drive us around once we were in the city. That really impressed me.
I knew that she had her own foundation, and I was trying to get the Eric Garner Foundation off the ground but found it difficult to manage. With all of my other growing responsibilities, it was just too much. So, I called her, and we talked for more than an hour. We really hit it off, and I could tell that she knew what she was doing and that she was good at it. I asked her whether she would consider being the executive director of what is now called the ERIC Foundation—Eliminating Racism and Inequality Collectively. She agreed to help temporarily, but her main focus was on public relations, and she offered to be my publicist because that was how she thought she could best help get the word out about Eric and the foundation. We talked a little about strategy and how she could help, and how maybe I could help her. I told her that the biggest event I had was the annual commemoration on the anniversary of Eric’s death. I told her what it was like and how much work it had been for me to arrange. She said she could definitely help with that and would be willing to handle the next one if everything worked out between us.
That December, I was contacted about a secret project in New Orleans. I wasn’t given a lot of information at first, and I was apprehensive. Since my time in the public eye, I’d had my share of strange phone calls and random people either saying things that weren’t very nice or trying to get me involved with some type of event that didn’t seem right for me. The fact that I was getting more requests each day made it difficult for me to feel like I was properly vetting them. I certainly didn’t want to let any important, crucial opportunities slip by, but I also did not want to get derailed by an event that was not a good fit. That is not as easy as it sounds because when someone wants you to do something, they make it sound as exciting as they can. That’s why I was glad that Nadia was coming on board to help me. I needed it.
For this secret project, after I said that I needed more information in order to make a decision, I was told that Beyoncé wanted me and some of the other mothers for a project in New Orleans. I later found out that she was filming a short movie that would go along with her Lemonade album and that she wanted us in the video. We weren’t told much at all—just to show up and the production people would do the rest. The only thing they asked was that we bring a large photo of the child who had been taken from us. When I got there, I found out that Sybrina Fulton, Wanda Johnson, and Lezley McSpadden were also going to be in the project. We are in a couple of scenes of the video, and it’s very powerful. The most impactful scene is where we are each shown, individually, sitting in an antique chair and holding our child’s photo in front of us.
It was exciting on a pure fantasy level because we had our own trailers and makeup people and wardrobe. It felt nice to be treated like that, and we enjoyed the experience. It was also interesting to see how it all came together with the filming and staging and everything that was involved. I had already met Beyoncé at the Prince concert, so it was exciting to see her again. The most important thing of all was that she was using her incredible star power to shine a light on what we were doing and what we had gone through. The video was released a couple of months later, but we were under strict orders not to mention it to anyone because it was one of her secret projects, and part of the appeal was the element of surprise. I was very appreciative of the opportunity and the exposure, so not talking about it was not an issue for me. That was my specialty.
It was nice to get that star treatment and be made to feel like we were important, even though it was temporary. Of course, I didn’t take it too seriously or let it go to my head because I was so grateful just to have that opportunity. I think that’s why a lot of people relate to me and the other mothers; they can see that it’s not about us. It’s almost like childbirth all over again. We are using our bodies as a vessel to deliver the message of our children. It’s not about us—it’s about them.
During childbirth, what everyone sees, the visual image, is a woman with a baby inside. While her health is of concern, the focus is on the child growing inside her. When that child is born, there is even more attention on the little one. As mothers, we are important, of course, but we all know that we are sacrificing ourselves for our children. That’s what we do. We sacrifice our time, our emotions, and our bodies.
Making appearances and doing things like the Beyoncé video reminded me that I was the messenger, but the message was my son and how he was no longer able to speak for himself. When Eric was a baby and couldn’t yet speak, I spoke for him. I interpreted what he was thinking and feeling and translated that for everyone else. He was a part of me, and I understood every essence of him. I knew that I’d always be there for him to support and protect him as best I could.
Being in the public eye and getting so much attention could be a distraction if I allowed that to happen. It would be easy to get caught up in meeting the celebrities and feeling like it was all about me. I think it’s natural for people to internalize that attention, and I know it’s easy to let it get out of control. I’ve seen others who have lost their way, forgetting their true mission because they enjoyed the spotlight a little too much. They forgot the whole reason why it began in the first place. Of course, I never judged them or took that away from them; I just knew that I needed to stay focused and grounded.
Another concern I had was that I was deserting my family. My whole life is them and being with everyone. Leaving them to take trips to Chicago and New Orleans and Washington, DC, became more and more frequent. Ben was retired and joined me occasionally, but usually he stayed home. He understood what I had to do. He had always been supportive, but still I worried that maybe this was taking over my life.
While Eric’s death at the hands police will always be important to me, I did have to think about everyone else too. Isn’t that just like a mother? No matter what we are called to do, we worry that we aren’t doing enough, or that we are doing too much. I guess that’s just part of God’s plan. It’s up to us to hold it down, especially in the Black community with the high number of fatherless homes.
So that did concern me. I wanted to make sure I continued to spend time with Ben and Ellisha and my grandchildren. My schedule was getting busier by the day, and I had to come up with some kind of plan. Bringing Nadia aboard would definitely help, but was it enough?
While there were plenty of people willing to give advice about what is involved with activism, one size does not fit all. I was learning that I had to find my own way and decide what worked best for me. I would take advice and guidance from others, but if something didn’t feel like it was working, or I didn’t feel good about what I was doing, then I knew that wasn’t for me. That’s where I started learning to trust my instincts as a woman and a mother. I did the same when the children were little. I took advice from others, I observed what worked for them, and then I did things the way that fit best for me and my situation.
I suppose with activism there are guides and programs that you can follow, but for me I found that because my situation was so unique, there really were no rules. My situation was different from the other mothers too, because of the videos that were viewed millions and millions of times. Eric’s death was so visual and impactful that people felt that they had a connection with it and him. We had all been spectators in his death, and I realized that it was so much bigger than me or my family.
There was no way I could control it; I could just try to be the best messenger and representative of my son that I could be. I don’t think that is in any activism rulebook. It can’t be because it’s such an individual journey. With all the requests for my time and energy, I wanted to be smart about it and try to make the most impact possible.
This music video was an amazing opportunity, and I knew that with Beyoncé, it would make a big splash and likely stir up a lot of controversy and conversation. Plus, it was going to reach a lot of young people, not only those who felt victimized but hopefully also those who were considering going into the field of law enforcement. I tried to emphasize during every interview that I was not at all against the police, and never advocated disobedience or violence toward them.
However, I did hope that anyone considering going into that line of work, that young generation just coming up, was doing it for the right reasons. I don’t think people go into law enforcement with bad intent at all—exactly the opposite. But hearing the stories I’d heard, somewhere along the way things sometimes went sideways and bad decisions were made. When you’re in that line of work, bad decisions can cost people their lives. That’s what I wanted to get across, and I wasn’t sure everyone understood that.
With the Black Lives Matter movement and other civil rights initiatives, people often go to the extreme and think that we are saying other people don’t matter. It is just the opposite. I would never be a part of a message like that. We are saying that all people matter but not all people are getting the same treatment and respect. If you don’t see how others are treated and don’t know about it, it’s probably natural to think that everyone is treated fairly and equally. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.
The videos that Ramsey and Taisha took really put that front and center, and people got to see with their own eyes what things can be like for some people. That level of awareness and education is so crucial to getting any kind of change. People first need to understand the issues, and then they can help come up with a solution.
So, if me being in a music video or doing another interview on TV would help do that, then that’s what I was going to do, and I was going to do it the best way for me. I might not dress perfectly or say just the right things, but I was determined to get my point across and let people know that some of the treatment people have to deal with is not acceptable.
At the end of 2015, I took stock of all that happened to me that year. There had been lots of disappointments, but also some small victories. There had been a lot of press and media events. Some went very well, and others were just a mess. Folks were not organized or there were other issues coming up or I felt the questions were not on point. I realized that going into the new year, I wanted to learn from any mistakes I’d made and build on the momentum I’d had. I was putting all my energy into this mission, this new vocation, this new lifestyle, and I wanted to be smart about it.
I took out a piece of paper and wrote down some of the ups and downs of 2015. I had learned long ago that it helped me to lay everything out on the table and then deal with it, the good and the bad. So I listed the highs—like the special grand jury prosecutor and the amazing fellowship at the cookout celebration in Eric’s honor. Another highlight was meeting so many other mothers who were dealing with similar situations. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it did help to talk and share with them. It was like we all spoke the same sad language, the language of loss.
I didn’t even write down any of the low points. There was no need to dwell on the negative. I knew what I had to do.