March on Washington: What racial equality means through the eyes of Columbus 13-year-old
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WASHINGTON — Elyjah Johnson stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial on Friday afternoon, sweaty, dazed and awed. He squinted through the glare of the sun to make out the figure of Martin Luther King III beyond the Jumbotron.
“If we choose community,” King said, “50 years from now, people will say that we were able to redeem the soul of America and began to fulfill the promise of democracy by systematically eliminating systematic racism and exploitation.”
Elyjah, a 13-year-old from the Northeast Side, looked back at the sea of black, brown and white faces dotting the National Mall, all the way to the Washington Monument, at the “Get Your Knee Off Our Neck” Commitment March.
The chanting from the crowd — calling for equality and an end to police brutality — reverberated in his ears.
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Hours after the crowds at the march had dissipated, Elyjah sat in the corner of a room at the Ivy City Hotel, which he shared with his mom and two other Columbus-based protesters, and scrolled through TikTok.
Days earlier, Elyjah said his reason for tagging along to the march with his mom, Heather Johnson, was because he was certain the coronavirus would force his middle school to cancel its annual eighth-grade trip to D.C. next spring.
“It’s a little bit bigger than that now,” he said.
'I don’t want them to end up as hashtags': Heather takes to the streets
Elyjah’s mom knew she had to go to D.C.
The minute the 32-year-old heard the Rev. Al Sharpton announce that there would be a march in Washington on the 57th anniversary of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech, she booked the hotel room, a few miles from the center of the capital.
Heather felt compelled to become involved in Columbus’ protest scene after George Floyd’s death at the hands of police in Minneapolis. She said she was watching a Facebook livestream of a demonstration on East Livingston Avenue and Lockborne Road in late May when she saw a protester beaten by Columbus police.
“I can still picture it in my mind, you know?” Heather said. “And with Trayvon Martin I sent money, with Freddie Gray I sent money … I felt guilty about only sending money.”
So Heather decided to take to the streets this summer.
It’s where she met the protesters who eventually gave the Johnsons a ride to D.C. in a packed Prius, and with whom she shared a common goal: complete abolition of police in Columbus and across the country.
The protests have changed her. She found a full-time position as a community advocate with the Columbus nonprofit group Halt Violence, leaving her previous job at a Chase Bank call center. She also volunteered to register people in the community to vote. And she starts classes at Ohio State University in September through a community health worker program.
The mother of five knows firsthand how the effects of police brutality can impact a family. She was only 9 years old, she said, when she watched her oldest brother, Demetrius, beaten by a white police officer in front of the McGuffey Market in North Linden.
“I remember running down the street, screaming for help,” she said.
Heather’s kids — Elyjah, Elyzah, 11, Elyias, 8, Antwan Jr., 3, and Antonio, 2 — are her biggest priority in life.
“I don’t want them to end up as hashtags,” she told The Dispatch.
How often does Heather worry about the likelihood of her kids becoming victims of police brutality?
“All the time,” she said. “Better question is when do I not worry about it? ”
Big dreams for Columbus teen
Elyjah is an enthusiastic kid.
Before making the trek to D.C., he had only been out of Ohio once, when he was 2 and taken to visit family members in Mississippi. But this would be a trip he would remember.
On Thursday night before the march, Elyjah begged his mom to check out the scene at the White House, where protesters, residents and curious passersby were gathered for a dance party at Lafayette Square.
“I’m not tired, I’m a different breed,” Elyjah said, goading Heather into catching a second wind after mother and son had spent the afternoon at the International Spy Museum.
“EJ, you need to chill,” his mom said.
But Elyjah won out.
Elyjah has ambitions to become a criminal prosecutor. It’s something he’s been saying since the third grade, ever since he started avidly watching “Law & Order: SVU.”
“These days everyone wants to be a YouTuber or streamer, but not all of them are gonna make it,” he said.
And as far as Elyjah’s dream to become a prosecutor goes?
“It’s not a question of whether or not it’s going to happen,” he said. “I’m gonna do it.”
Most days this summer, Elyjah has spliced anime videos on TikTok — his favorite anime is “Dragon Ball Z” — or goofed off with his siblings and friends. He tries not to take life too seriously.
But he spent Thursday night streaming the scene at Lafayette Square to his Instagram page.
“My friends were like, ‘Where in the world is this?’” he said.
After his mom and a few other protesters walked toward the South Lawn entrance of the White House, attendees from the Republican National Convention were seen leaving. Protesters with #BlackLivesMatter jeered at the maskless crowd.
“It feels like we're on a reality TV show,” Elyjah said to his mom as fireworks lit up the sky behind them, marking the end of the convention and President Donald Trump’s acceptance to become the Republican Party’s 2020 presidential nominee.
What's equality? 'We're all just one herd' in the 'animal kingdom'
On Friday, as Heather stood on the steps on the Lincoln Memorial to watch Sharpton speak, she called her grandmother and put her on speakerphone.
“You know she was here 57 years ago, when Dr. King made his speech,” Heather explained. But when she called her grandmother, who is now 88 years-old, she told Heather to hang up and videotape it for her.
She said her grandparents believe that this moment in time is more dangerous than the civil rights movement during the 1960s. They are worried — along with the rest of her extended family — about Heather’s decision to join the protest movement.
But they still support her.
The unity during Friday’s speeches and march reminded Heather of her favorite MLK Jr. quote: “It’s always the right time to do the right thing.”
“It would’ve been easy to stay home,” she said. “But this was the gas I needed for me to come back to Columbus and protest.”
At dinner, later on Friday, Elyjah was fighting exhaustion.
“I’m tired, I wanna go back to the hotel,” he announced to the table.
His mom shook her head, then asked him what he really thought about the day.
Elyjah paused for a moment.
“I think we’re gonna get true equality,” he said. “You know, it’s like if we’re in the animal kingdom. We’re all just one herd, using each other to survive. There ain’t no ‘You’re better than me’ or ‘I’m better than you.’ That’s what equality means.”
A couple of hours later, back at the hotel, Elyjah was still thinking about Martin Luther King III’s speech. He said, at times, he felt humiliated listening to MLK Jr.’s son, still fighting for the same injustices his father died for.
“It just makes you think: What in the world did we do to deserve this treatment?” he said.
Heather gazed down at her son, who had resumed watching YouTube videos on his phone.
She was thinking about her run-in with Jacob Blake’s father, who attended the march despite the fact his son was shot in the back seven times by a police officer in Kenosha just a few days before.
Heather had asked for a picture with Jacob Blake Sr. and was over the moon that he agreed.
“That man coming here while his son lies in the hospital paralyzed makes me think,” she said, thinking of her own children. “How do you keep pushing when your reason to live is no longer there?”
cdoyle@dispatch.com
This article originally appeared on The Columbus Dispatch: March on Washington: Racial equality through the eyes of Columbus teen
