How does he feel about you not only protesting but being super visible and vocal on the front line?

CS: I’m Black, but I’m a girl and a non-threatening one. The way I see it, I’m at less risk than he is. My dad is a strong and powerful human, but he’s a six-foot man, and I worry far more about him as a Black man in the world that I do about him as a policeman on the job. After meeting the criteria of his NYPD promotional exam, he was passed over three times in favor of white officers. No one wants to take on the NYPD. He’s very frustrated and annoyed he can’t really take part, and he worries about me making myself a target. You can face department charges if you attend protests or marches, you have to be very careful not to present yourself as anti-cop.

JM: So you see risk as varying by degrees, based on different traits of individuals in the Black community, and putting yourself on the line because your own perceived risk is lower. That’s a big responsibility to take on. How have the movement and the protests affected you socially? Is there any tension between you and friends, or your community?

CS: My high school experience was very diverse, lots of Black kids, Spanish and white, (there were only about five Asians.) But Rock Hill (a hamlet outside Monticello) is middle class. Most of my friends were white and ended up going to good schools.

People I know have said, ‘Fuck Black Lives Matter, they’re all terrorists,’ and, ‘Just wait until we get into a militarized state.’ The mother of a white male (now former) friend of mine, made it clear she disapproved of me protesting. She said, ‘I don’t think your father would be very happy with you.’ I told her he was well aware. I thought she’d always been so pleasant to me, but now I remember little comments. Once, we threw a party, and someone rented a stripper pole to dance. She looked at me and said, ‘Who’s going to be our little Black stripper?’ After the protests, my friend said, ‘Isn’t it a little extreme to lose friends over politics?’ I said, ‘It’s not politics, it’s human rights.’

JM: Why do you think you’ve made such an impression as a local advocate of BLM?

CS: I saw another woman at a march who was also vocal and on the front lines. She was passionate, she was great, but she looked and sounded more like what people stereotypically see as an angry Black woman, and the reporters all came to talk to me. I grew up within a system of white privilege that makes me less threatening to a white media. I know that makes me an outsider to traditionally Black American culture.

It sounds funny to say, but I’ve always wanted to be a part of it. They’re so joyous, and they’re loud, they’re laughing, there’s a community bond I don’t have. But because of my education and where I grew up, I can speak up, and people take me seriously. It’s very easy to blame the Black community for their circumstances and supposedly self-inflicted issues. We need white journalists to listen in order to get the message out because otherwise, Black stories aren’t accepted in mainstream media!

JM: Once you have the platform and people are listening, what’s important to you to leave behind? What’s the most crucial thing you might want your old classmates, or their parents, to hear?

CS: I want people to understand their privilege exists. They may have been oppressed for other various reasons, poverty, or as members of the LQBTQ community, but the Black struggle is just not something they’ve experienced. Most people in a privileged position don’t want to disrupt their comfortable lives, but you have to give that up. The older generation of the Black community is accustomed to the system; they say, ‘Your life is not worth it. If you get pulled over, just do as you’re told, whatever you’re supposed to do to survive.’ But if you’re Black, you’ll be criminalized anyway, and then what? We need to keep protesting to get people to listen. It’s time to stand up, not stand down.