Hands Up!

Every night at bedtime I tell my three-year-old to put his hands up as I slide his pajama top over his scrawny little arms.  He smiles and gives me a big hug.  I love these little moments but ever since my recent trip to Ferguson, MO I have to pause because those words “hands up” remind me of  Mike Brown, who allegedly put his hands up just before he was shot at least six times by a police officer.  I can’t stop thinking about the crowds of people I heard shouting, “hands up, don’t shoot” on the streets of Ferguson and I can’t stop thinking about how I felt on my trip there.

In Ferguson, MO there is an energy I cannot describe.  It is electric.  There is this greater sense of purpose.  The people on the streets feel like they are changing the world.  And they are.  Even the President has taken notice and the rallies are making the rest of the country examine the difficult issues of race and class in a new and different way.  I love that my job allows me to be a witness to history and what was happening in Ferguson that day really felt like history in the making.

While I loved the atmosphere in Ferguson during the day, I was scared when darkness fell.  I had seen the masses of police ready in their riot gear and could not help but notice the burned out buildings from the previous looting.  I was told over and over again – it gets dangerous after dark.  I am not sure if it was all of the warnings I received or the fact that I was clearly the only white woman in the crowd but for the first time in my life I felt totally unsafe.  As night came and crowds swamped our camera location I felt alone.  I am not sure if this was because deep down subconsciously I have the same preconceived notions that the police officer in this case may have had.  Or if it was because I was a woman.  Or because CNN had hired four security guards to protect the anchor and I was nowhere near any of them.  Or because others on our team had gas masks at the ready.  Or maybe because my phone was dying and I felt all alone. But when a firecracker went off I assumed it was a gun and I jumped.  I started to pray that I would just make it home to my two children alive. In all my years in the news business covering everything from the 9/11 attacks to Hurricane Katrina I have never felt scared – until 10pm in Ferguson, MO.

There was no real violence on the street that night.  There were no real gunshots and no tear gas.  We put on an amazing TV show.  Cameramen from other networks looked after me.  The people rallied late into the night.  They were passionate and excited.  They were changing the world.  I want to believe that I am colorblind and I hope to raise my children that way but I know that this country has a long ways to go towards genuine equality because of what I saw in Ferguson and because I know that my son raising his hands will never have the same result it did for Mike Brown.  Let’s hope that changes because of what is happening in Ferguson, MO.