History Repeats Itself: Just Read, Just Breathe (152)

And it Begins Again, Will We Ever Learn?

There is a lot going on in the country right now.

Covid-19 being overshadowed by civil unrest, is just one of them. In cities across America, people are crowded in the streets protesting. The National Guard has been deployed in 13 states so far. Stores are being looted. Fires started. Crowds destroying government buildings and statues, destroying public property, ruining people's livelihoods.

It sounds like the L.A. Riots in which I was caught in, back in 1992. Scariest night of my life. The reason unfortunately, has not yet been truly addressed, and we are still trapped in the same senseless vortex.

Here is the story of that night, back in 1992. It rings true of last night, and the nights to come, that will echo the unrest, that is rumbling and the action that is reverberating.

We Didn't Start the Fire (UCLA application essay 1994)

The Tincture of Unrest 
The gravel hurt the bottom of my bare feet as I walked to the edge of the roof. The smell was acrid, it stung my nose, almost as much as the sharp gravel did the bottom of feet. This particular apartment building, located off  Hollywood Boulevard, was tall enough so that a panoramic view of Los Angeles could be seen from the rooftop and higher floored residences.

My friend, lived several floors down so in order to witness the chaos, we had to run up several flights of stairs. We arrived at dusk, already short of breath. As the darkness took over, there was a stillness surrounded by an audible mayhem. Sirens wailed. Looking across the street, every roof top was covered with onlookers. Some in chairs, some standing- but all gazing onto the surreal.

The usually smoggy skies of Hollywood were sheathed in a layer of black smoke. I stood at the edge dumbfounded, gazing in each direction, only to see more ebony vapor tufting into the air. It was hard to breath, I felt dizzy, so I sat down, dangling my feet over the edge. Then I began counting the building fires around me. Turning my head to see a 360. My friends and I, generally a boisterous, upbeat group, were mulled into a silence. The only sound, crackling and sirens.

Los Angeles has a hum to it. An energy that vibrates, even in the wee hours of the morning. But, this evening, just as the sun stealthily disappeared, the night sky didn't lose its hue. The golden chroma around each fire, seemed to combine into one large complexion of despair. I started to cough, but stayed put awhile longer, because the mesmerizing glow was enticing. I had never heard so many sirens. I had never seen such a colorful Los Angeles sky.

April 29, 1992. I had worked all day, in San Juan Capistrano, but at 4:00 decided to head up to Los Angeles to help my friend move. She was moving back to Orange County. I hadn't seen the news, so naively, I ventured to Los Angeles on this tumultuous day.

I got on the 5 freeway and as I passed through Orange County everything was normal, nothing triggered an alarm. I was listening to the radio, I remember the song, "Burning Down the House" by Talking Heads. I was singing along and as the song ended a news break began, "Fires have broken out across Los Angeles as unrest bubbles over, after the Rodney King verdict was handed down today."

The DJ was saying how the song was very appropriate for the day and next up was "We Didn't Start the Fire by Billy Joel." I knew of the Rodney King case, everyone in California did, but I didn't remember the verdict was coming on this day. I looked around, didn't see any smoke or fire, so I continued on my way. But, as soon as I crossed from Orange County to LA County, I started to see some smoke, one or two plumes here- a few over there. But, I was almost to my friends house in West Hollywood, so I decided to keep going.

I drove a few more miles and exited the freeway into a quickly darkening West Los Angeles. This was before cell phones- and pulling over in that part of town, to use a payphone would not be advisable. I could hear my mothers voice "NEVER get off the freeway in unfamiliar territory."

So I traveled the distance and when I arrived at my friends apartment building, I was a bit nervous, but until I sat down before the TV, I didn't have a clue how dangerous things actually were. How travelling on this day to this city, was probably not a smart idea.

We watched the news for what seemed hours, before the danger started to creep nearer to our location. There was no Internet, no devices, no Twitter. Our eyes was the local news. Our senses our nose. Our connection, the fact we were in the border of the chaos. We had no idea how close.

Eventually helicopters were above us and they started to show fires a block away. Several in fact and they seemed to be moving inward closer to us. So we looked at each other and without saying a word, jumped up and made our way to the stairwell.

We ran to the roof. The gravel hurt the bottom of my bare feet as I walked to the edge of the roof. The smell was acrid, it stung my nose almost as much as the sharp gravel, did the bottom of feet. This particular apartment building, located off Hollywood Boulevard was tall enough so that a panoramic view of Los Angeles, could be seen from the rooftop and higher floored residences. I had parked on the street in front of her building, at the time I thought that's lucky, there was never any street parking near her apartment.

But, looking down at that moment- it struck me- as I kicked my feet against the wall, I looked down to see my Jetta, safe and sound. I wondered if it would make it through the night. If this building would make it through the night.

My car made it through the night, the apartment building we slept in made it- we however went on an adventure most of the night and almost didn't.

Curfew, What Curfew?
It was about 8:30 PM April 29, 1992 when a county wide curfew was implemented.

But, we were curious. There were more fires than firefighters could handle and as such many just were left to burn. One of our group that night was a volunteer firefighter and he wanted to see if he could help in any way.

We as, 20 somethings, basically feeling we were invincible, decided to tag along. So we piled in his car, a brand new BMW and drove around Hollywood to just observe the discord and dissension, or so we thought. Privilege? He had it in spades, we had it, we were middle class. Hindsight- what a stupid fool I was for putting myself in a situation I did not belong.

We didn't get, but a few blocks, before we saw a house fire, not an apartment fire. A women was standing in the street yelling for help. We pulled over and our friend, the volunteer firefighter, jumped out to help. It was about 30 seconds later, before we even got out of the car, that we saw him run into the burning house. We got out of the car and approached the distrait woman, helping her sit on the curb near our car. We all stared at the house in disbelief.

A few moments later, out came our friend with a cat in his arms. He walked over and handed the woman her cat then said we should go and see who else we can help.

The woman thanked us and several neighbors came out to help her. As we drove around the area, nothing was more palpable, than the heavy weight of smoke and fear. We saw groups gathered on street corners, the looks on their faces, as we drove past, told us they would be part of the anarchy soon.

Looking back, not only was it ridiculously ignorant to drive around during this situation of civil unrest- but in a brand new BMW, well that made us even a bigger target. Hindsight, like I said. In the moment the adrenaline takes over common sense.

But we again felt like we were invincible. We hit a road block and the police scolded us and told us to go home.

We didn't listen though, until we began to see looting. Not of just mom and pop shops, but chain grocery stores. Parking lots full of people pushing bulging carts of food and supplies quickly to their cars. At first it looked like shoppers, but then employees were running out of the store too and this is when it hit us- large scale robbery was all around us, arson was all around us and we needed to go home and be safe.

This adventure, was the least memorable of the next 24 hours, however.

Midtown Containment
We woke up a bit late on April 30, 1992, one of the longest days of my life.

It was 11:00 AM and we had to be out of Los Angeles by 5:00 PM before the curfew was in full force. We had to load the truck and get on PCH. The freeways around Hollywood were shut down and the only route open, to travel south to Orange County was on Pacific Coast Highway. We were on the road by 4:00 and the streets were nearly empty, until we reached the coast. Then traffic was at a stand still.

It looked like a Loony Tunes cartoon- cars were driving on the sidewalks, cutting each other off, fender benders every where. We were a caravan of two cars and a moving truck in between them. On the back seat of my Jetta, were two large television sets and a computer, stereo and other appliances. This made me nervous as we were two females, in a traffic jam, in the not so nice part of Los Angeles. The streets were crowded and all eyes were on the traffic jam. The desperate attempt to escape the mayhem.

It was about three hours into our journey and we were inching our way south towards Orange County. It was getting dark and more people had gathered on the streets. You could feel the rage, it made my hair stand up on my arms and neck.

We rolled up the windows and looked forward trying desperately not to make eye contact with the crowd. The heckling started slowly- but quickly became loud and directed very much at the cars bumper to bumper, unable to escape the wrath. Several young men walked up to our car, "Hey, looks like some nice TV's you got here, they might look real nice in my house." We kept looking forward.

Then they tapped on the window "Hey, ladies, how much for your TV's?" They laughed and then tried to open the door. "Knock, knock- let us in." one taunted. Then from behind them we heard a voice, "Leave them alone, now get outta here." An older man walked up to the car and said, "You two need to get out of here, things are getting bad." We smiled and said thank you through the window, but we couldn't get out of there- as we were stuck in gridlock traffic, but we changed lanes to the inside, so we could move away from the curb.

Florence and Normandie
Traffic didn't lessen for another two hours when we finally reached Florence and Normandie, where earlier in the day- a truck driver had been beaten and killed. This was when we finally saw police officers and military patrolling the streets.

But when we stopped at a red light- a group of people ran across the street and threw molotov cocktails into a few store fronts. The stores erupted into flame and several police officers ran over to our car and said "drive, drive and don't stop at any lights." Just get out of Los Angeles county. This we did.

We were rerouted around PCH a few times due to riots and fires- but eventually made it back to Orange County. We saw fire, looting, even a few carjackings. Gun fire was everywhere and every shot rang in our ears, reminding us we should have stayed put for a few more days.

I have never been more afraid in my entire life. Our gas tank was on empty and we ran out of gas as we crossed over into Orange County. Our friends, in the other car in our caravan, returned with a gas can, about half an hour later and filled our tank. What should have taken 90 minutes to travel- took us 8 1/2 hours to traverse.

We were stupid. We had no business trying to travel in the middle of the situation.

Ice Cream and Balloons
It was not until we had fuel and we made it to a local grocery store that we had a chance to eat, go to the bathroom, call home and make sense of what we had seen.

The grocery store, we entered was full of people, shopping with a sense of calm. They had no idea what was happening ten minutes up the road. There was a community fair in the parking lot and children were walking around with balloons and ice cream cones. I just sat on the hood of my car watching them. This serene juxtaposition of riot versus residential.

This family haven versus the chaos of civil and social unrest. I had spent over 8 hours watching as people's rage destroyed livelihood and security. Where they felt they had no other voice than to deface, ravish and sabotage the 'establishment.' To injure and kill anyone they felt was not on their side. It happened because of hatred and prejudice. It lingered because of a single verdict that made it clear that some people, can get away with heinous actions. It ended only after the National Guard and local police made their presence known everywhere.

This was before Facebook and You Tube videos. Before Twitter and Instagram. It took awhile for news to disseminate and squelch the violence. However, even today the underlying inequality and prejudice persists.

I look back on these two days that I spent within the LA Riots, they have come to be called, with an understanding that me and my friends were lucky, we had a guardian angel looking over us because so many times we were in the line of fire, gunshots rang out around my car many times. Fires were started as we sat at red lights.

Anger was directed at us because we appeared to be part of the cause. I wish I could say everything is good now- we learned from our mistakes- but these moments of rebellion and strife are bubbling up in many places.

If we do not stop to reflect on the cause of anxiety, discontent and tension more such events are going to take place. Past meets present in way like no other in this rebellion. We can't just talk about the causes and effects, we need to focus on the why, the societal inequalities, the isolation and disenfranchisement and be open to understand our relationship to them.

Yesterday, Today (May 31, 2020)

I was reading Twitter, just seeing whats happening out their- and there are several hashtags with a city name like #protestmaintown. The posts I read were from twenty-somethings, looking for ways to participate, just because there is something to participate in. Sounded familiar.

I won't name the cities, but lets just say there are a lot of them. Each with people sharing strategies on to how to loot and steer clear of the police. Where the news camera's are etc. It was a bit jarring to read some of the posts. During 1992 we didn't have this communication, but if we had, I bet it would have sounded much like it does today.

There are people out there protesting the treatment of minorities and the hatred and racism within our country. There are people who have been mistreated, who have been afraid their whole lives. People who have lost family members, friends, community leaders. They are telling their stories, loudly.

There are people who feel they do not have a voice and that violence is their megaphone. Unfortunately, they have yet another reason, to shout from the rooftops about injustice and prejudice.

Yet, like in 1992, there are also bored individuals, who feel liberated from their homes and want to do something- and causing more civil unrest seems fun. I kid you not, read some of the Tweets. So now we have crowds of people, all with different agenda's, out on the streets.

Police are scared, National Guardsman are at the ready. I hope they do not do anything more to fuel the flames. But inevitably, I fear, they will.

Another cycle of nonverbal communication. Action over discussion. An opportunity for some, who should not be adding to the chaos- to get on TV, to feel apart of something, they don't really understand. Interviews with these individuals on the news, proves my point.

I am a witness of such events. I have never been mistreated for my race, but I have been for my sex, my gender, my disability. I am ignorant of their cause, for I have never experienced what they experience. I am sad, outraged. I want to change things, make people listen.

I just don't know a better way to try, other than to write. Words are powerful. They hold so much strength and they are my only way to express myself right now. This time, I think I will avoid the action and just read, just breathe.