When George Floyd was murdered, I was 15 years old and a sophomore in high school. I remember seeing the video and feeling like it confirmed something I already suspected deep down: They just don’t care about us.
“They” being the police, white supremacy, 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 before our eyes.
I was at home when I saw it. I think I first came across it on Snapchat. Not the full video right away, but the news of it. Eventually I saw the whole thing. It made me sick. Here was a man crying out for help, saying he couldn’t breathe, calling out for his mother, and the officer just kept pressing down on his neck.
It was like he didn’t even see George as a person. Like he wasn’t even human. That’s what hurt the most. That someone could look at a Black man suffering and show no remorse. No humanity. No mercy.
At 15, that changes you.
It reminded me of all the times Black people have been brutalized in this country. Not just historically, but constantly. You start to feel like nothing’s ever going to change. Like they’ll just keep doing it over and over and getting away with it.
But something did change. In that moment, the world rose up. I joined the protests because I felt I had to. It wasn’t even a question. If we say we care about one another, if we want justice and change, we have to show up. We have to be the people we’re hoping others will be.
So I went out to protest, not just for George Floyd, but for all of us. Because when Black people come together to fight back, to stand up and say this isn’t right, it gives me hope. Even in all the pain, it showed me that we were united.
Now I’m 20 years old. Five years have passed since that video changed the world, and changed me. And I can say I haven’t seen the same level of police violence in our community since. But I’ve also noticed we’re not protesting as much anymore. Maybe we’re tired. Maybe we’re still healing. I know I am.
Because even though the protests have died down, the fear hasn’t. I still don’t feel safe around police. I don’t trust that if I call for help, they’ll treat me like a person. God forbid if I get pulled over or have to speak to a police officer — I’m thinking about how I move, what I say, how fast I reach for something — because one wrong move could be the end of me just because I’m Black.
That’s what hasn’t changed.
What I hope to see now, five years later, is real unity in our community. Not just when there’s a protest, but in our everyday lives. I want us to have each other’s backs. To support one another, stand by each other, and show up for each other like we did in 2020. We have power when we move as one.
And I want police to stop misusing and abusing their power. I want them to see the humanity in us. To treat us with the same care and respect they’d offer their own families. Because we matter. Our lives matter. We are human.
I’m still healing, but I’m still here. Still showing up. Still believing that we can be better. That this country can be better. That if we keep fighting, we won’t have to keep mourning. Not like this. Not again.
Phalen (PJ) Pounds is currently a student at Augsburg University.