by Mary E. Campagna
“Forward together. Not one step back!” was the chant of Roanoke’s version of the International Women’s March Saturday. A sea of pink, fuzzy, two-eared caps and handmade signs filled Elmwood Park.
When the adults reached a lull in the chant, small children ages five to 12 took over with tremendous zeal.
Brenda Hale, president of the Roanoke Branch of the NAACP, spoke eloquently about the need to move beyond complacency; to fight for our rights. “How can we respect a man, a president, that loves rapists, womanizers, draft dodgers, tax dodgers, and degrading disabled people?” Hale asked the audience.
After speeches by Hale, Delegate Sam Rasoul and others – an estimated three thousand concerned citizens poured into the streets with signs saying everything from “Stop Islamaphobia” to “Save the Planet for our Kids!” There were throngs of women of all ages, children and, surprisingly, a significant number of men.
Yet, the numbers of African-Americans marching seemed extremely low; perhaps one percent of the crowd. After the marchers began to dissipate, a reporter from the Tribune found two African-Americans sitting on a downtown bench and asked them why they had chosen not to participate in the march. Their answers were eye-opening.
“We (Blacks) know that no matter how many marches and speeches {there are} nothing will be done for us,” said Shawntee Sims of NW Roanoke. “America wasn’t and isn’t for us.”
“My priority is putting food on the table,” said Steve Banks, a recent immigrant to Roanoke from Ohio. “It’s an everyday struggle and not just for me. There are a lot of poor and homeless people here; people stay in their groups and stick to their own.”
When I asked what some of the marchers could do to really make a difference going forward, Sims and Banks both said that people should get to know their neighbors; the ones across town. It’s really about re-defining who your neighbors are.
Banks was warned by friends not to even try to visit the Raleigh Court section of town; he would not be welcomed there. He told a reporter that he felt uncomfortable visiting such forbidden neighborhoods, even though someone had recently invited him to attend a church there on Grandin Avenue.
“Many churches have let the Black people down by encouraging us to be victims of the power structure; even Black churches,” said Sims. “For us it was one step forward (when Obama got elected) and a hundred steps back with the election of Trump. Every time we thought we were close, we were dropped 100 years back.”
“… Things are changing in our country right now,” said Hale from the lectern in the park. “We have a new president and a new agenda, and we have to be ready!”
But like many of Roanoke’s disenfranchised, Sims and Banks are concentrating on building basic survival skills, which don’t necessarily involve writing to their U.S. Congressmen about various laws that may or may not be challenged during the Trump Administration.
Banks said he must focus on his family’s immediate needs as he tries to fit in somewhere within the Roanoke Community.
“Seems like Black people feel like the little people,” Banks said. “I would say to all those marchers: open your eyes; pay it forward because you never know what someone else is going through.”
