I knew I wasn’t going to be comfortable with all phases of
the demonstration, but I went anyway, to the “Millions March” from Washington
Square , winding up at police headquarters in New
York .
I went with a group from Broadway Presbyterian Church, a mostly white, peaceful
lot devoted to the idea of reconciliation.
But the black organizers of the event were calling it a “Day of Anger,”
over the latest wave of police killings of unarmed black men, and the impunity
granted to the police by the justice system.
In the park, one swarthy black man carried a sign with a clenched black
fist and the words “Fuck with me at your peril.”
As we marched up Fifth Avenue ,
we came abreast of a group of young people, mocking the cops with
a chant borrowed from the Vietnam War era.
Then it began “Hey, hey, LBJ..” Now
it was “NYPD, KKK, how many kids have you killed today?” This was aimed at the police who lined the
avenue, looking on impassively from behind the barricades.
