They Pointed Guns at Us, but That's Not Why I'm Angry

I had a gun pointed in my direction today, but that’s not what I am angry about.

Let me tell you a story that happened to me today (Monday, August 5th).

On Saturday, August 3rd, a 19-year old black man, De’Von Bailey, was shot and killed by police in my city, Colorado Springs. There was a vigil held the next day and a protest the following day (today). I joined this protest because it centered around demanding accountability for police shootings and overall brutality.

Picture of De'Von Bailey

The police say that De’Von reached for an alleged weapon in his waistband. A witness said that he simply ran away without brandishing a weapon. You can read more about this whole situation here.

Why is there a difference in stories? Truth is complicated, but I do know one truth:

Too many black men, and people of color in general, have been needlessly killed, and accountability rarely takes place. The protest I attended wasn’t just about De’Von. It was also about:

Eric Garner

Tamir Rice

Philando Castile

And So. Many. More.

Violence is never the answer, but in our country it is too often the case that men and women are served violence by the same folks tasked to Protect and Serve.

Let me clear. This post is *not* saying that all police officers are violent and racist. But there are too many instances of police officers who carry out acts of violence and racism and are never held accountable. Instead, they are time and again protected by a badge.

This was why I protested. I was there to use whatever privilege I have to make sure the voices that needed to be heard were heard. I marched, I chanted, and I bore witness to the justified anger and sadness of a community. I was not there to protest the police, but I want to make sure that ‘police brutality’ is no longer a phrase I have to say.

It was at this protest, in front of the Police Operations Center in Colorado Springs that I feared for my life.

The beginning of the protest centered around chanting, yelling, and pleading for justice in front of this building. Behind locked doors, a large group of police officers were gathered while we mourned, vented, and attempted to be heard. The officers were silent and did not move.

After a time, they retreated into the building, out of sight of us protestors. We moved away from the building towards the sidewalk. We quieted down a bit, but still people chanted, spoke up, and mourned for lives lost to police violence.

It was during this time that two White men on motorcycles pulled up across the street.

The two men got off their motorcycles, looked at each other, and then quickly crossed the street, approaching us. I think I am a fairly good judge of human behavior and body language, and what I witnessed was two men aggressively making their way towards protestors. I was too far away from the men to hear what they said, but whatever they said caused a reaction from the crowd.

I started to move quickly towards the two men, hoping to keep tensions at bay. I was ready to put my body between them and us.

Before I reached the men, there was an altercation with another protestor and the two motorcyclists pulled out handguns, pointing them directly at the crowd.

Maybe 20-30 seconds had passed from the time the two men parked to when they pulled out their guns. It happened so fast…

When I saw the guns, my only thought was ‘I could die today’.

Since the officers had earlier retreated further into the building, I assumed they had not witnessed the men approaching and pulling out guns. I quickly ran back to the police building with intention to inform the officers of the situation. When I turned, I saw that the room behind the locked doors was again filled with police officers. I quickly stated, ‘They have a gun!’ urging the officers to act.

When they didn’t respond, I kept trying to explain very loudly and very quickly the urgency of the situation. They told me (and 5-7 others) to back away from the doors.

The officers didn’t move.

Honestly, that was a chilling moment. We had two guns pointed in our direction just outside a police building filled with police officers, and the officers stood without acting for what seemed to me like an eternity.

About a minute elapsed before the officers finally exited the building. I held the door for them as they ran out, giving descriptions of the guys as they passed me.

The two men who pulled guns and pointed them at a crowd of mourning, peaceful protestors were arrested alive and well. Let me repeat, these two white men are alive and in custody.

And this is why I am mad. Not that my life was threatened, but that De’Von Bailey was not given the same chance as these two men.

I easily could have been a victim of a shooting today. Two men were prepared to do harm and pointed guns at us. Take a look at their picture:

I am glad these men were arrested without harm. I wish no harm to come upon anyone, which is why I am angry that people keep getting shot by police. It’s why I am angry that another black man’s name was chanted in protest. It’s why I am angry that my community is mourning, and that we are not the only community to do so.

De’Von Bailey allegedly *might* have had a gun. The police say that he reached towards his waistband, so at least one officer shot him. The two men pictured above undoubtedly had guns drawn and pointed at innocent people.

What is the difference here? Why was one man fatally shot while two others were arrested unharmed? I’ll let you speculate.

We don’t know the full story about De’Von Bailey, and we are hearing two different narratives of it. We want to know the truth. We demand the truth.

De’Von Bailey should be alive today. I almost wasn’t.