Last Wednesday, I didn’t recognize my city.
I mean, it was Charlotte. Charlotte, North Carolina. The banking capital of the South, home of endless Carolina blue skies, sweet tea, great barbecue and southern accents. Our beautiful city, one that so many of us are proud to call home.
Prior to Wednesday, the issue of racial tensions with police was something I had taken note of, but wasn’t worried about imminently. It was in the back of my mind.
Many of us probably thought the same thing about it: “Oh, that (insert shooting incident) is terrible. We really need to do something about it.” Move on.
The glass house I lived in shattered last Wednesday. I work in Uptown (Charlotte’s downtown) in banking. After the rioting that happened late Tuesday night following Keith Lamont Scott’s murder, murmurs began to circulate that the protests would continue downtown that night. We were told to leave early, go home and get out of the city center.
I remember Uptown that afternoon, storm clouds on the way in. The city had an edgy, foreboding feeling to it. Traffic was packed in more than normal for 4 p.m. on a Wednesday.
My husband and I got home; turned on the TV and set about our routines. We knew that riots had happened late the night before, closer to where Scott lived; but I don’t think either of us knew the depth of what was happening at that point.
We kept an eye on what was happening, and all seemed fine until later in the night when the formerly peaceful protests started growing in numbers.
All of a sudden, protesters started throwing things. Police started forming a barricade, and using tear gas. A CNN reporter was attacked on camera. The Charlotte Hornets’ store was looted, among other small businesses. A civilian was shot by another civilian.
I watched the live feed on Facebook from our local TV station, open-mouthed.
What was happening? This just wasn’t our city. We didn’t have these problems.
The sounds of helicopters was constant overhead. That sound would keep me awake deep into the night. I tried to go to sleep, but kept my phone turned to the live feed, watching.
Would they come marching down to our neighborhood?
We lived a scant three miles from Uptown. A decision we congratulated ourselves on when I took a job there last year, thinking my commute would be great. Now I was second-guessing our decision to be so close to the city center.
These protesters, who were looting, shouting, and carrying weapons were marching less than three miles from our house. 30 minutes of walking in our direction and they’d be here. My children slept peacefully, unaware of anything out of the ordinary.
Unfortunately, I passed another milestone as a young mother that night. I felt raw fear for my children for the first time, fear of the danger of civil unrest, and the fact that it can change instantly.
My glass house shattered, and so should yours. Because this is a real problem our country is facing right now. We cannot continue to ignore it and hope it goes away; it may very well be your backyard next time.
Remember this as you watch our presidential debates.
Think about who would stand up and do the right thing, ask the tough questions, and help us figure out what reforms are needed.
We have a deep history of racial issues in this country; and we will need a true leader to be our guiding light. And one who makes damn sure our children can continue to sleep peacefully through the night.
Crystal Wilson is a social media marketer, blogger and owner of www.topratedbabyproducts.com. She loves all things baby and chocolate, and lives in Charlotte with her family.