Has America Made Progress Since the LA Riots?

The death of Rodney King gives one pause to reflect on the racial divisions in the country.

Where were you the night Los Angeles started burning?

If you’re like me—too young to have experienced the Detroit riots—news of Rodney King’s death stirs a confusing range of emotions, from sympathy to anger and from sadness to rage.

King became a symbol of America’s racial strife when the beating he suffered at the hands of Los Angeles police was videotaped and broadcast for the world to see. The officers charged in the incident were acquitted, triggering a race riot that killed 53 people, injured more than 2,000 and cost millions of dollars in damages.

I know where I was when the riots broke out. I was delivering Chinese food in my hometown of Windsor. When news broke of the riots, I was driving around the city at night, wondering if the anger would spread to Detroit. One strange moment was delivering an order to two young black men who were watching the riots on television in an apartment in a run down project. I remember wanting so badly to say something to them, but I couldn’t come up with sensible words.

At the time, I was struggling with my own racism. Two years prior, my friend and I had just gone out with two girls from a richer area of town. As they were driving us home from the Tecumseh Corn Fest, we asked that they stop short of our neighborhood so we could get out and walk. We were ashamed of our meager homes in a poor neighborhood. As we neared our homes, there were eight young black men standing on the corner a half block from our home. That’s something you just didn’t see in our neighborhood, which was policed by the Queensmen motorcycle club as much as it was by the police department. Within minutes, my friend was knocked out and my face was beat to a pulp. Turns out, a dispute over a girl the night before resulted in the local neighborhood tough guys beating the hell out of some black teenagers from Detroit. According to neighborhood gossips, this beating took place in the middle of the street, right in front of the police.

By the time Los Angeles riots occurred, I was knee deep in dental bills and just trying not to be jittery when a black man answered the door on a Chinese Food delivery at 2:30 a.m. I knew that fear bred racism. I could feel it in my cracked teeth.

I tried to find ways to get past the incident. Living in the dead center of Windsor’s most notorious neighborhood and knowing the circumstances that led my friends down the wrong paths, I knew my neighborhood was Easy Street compared to most places in Detroit. I could rationalize it a million different ways, but it was a long time before the jitters went away.

I think America’s jitters are going away, too—slowly. I remember when Barack Obama was mentioned as a potential candidate. I thought there was no chance in hell America would elect a black man whose last name rhymed with that of the terrorist behind 9/11. What a surprise. No. It didn’t mean the end of racism in America. But it did mean an African American mom could look at her son, point to the President and say, “You could be President one day.” I’m not sure what that means, but it’s something.

Still, we’re a deeply divided nation. Politically. Economically. Racially.  With so many people fighting tooth and nail to avoid losing their homes and jobs and falling out of the middle class, who has the energy to focus on helping raise the poor’s standard of living and prospects for the future.

So while those jitters have gone away, I’m not sure what progress we’ve made. Seems like we’ve just locked the problems in a box.

And all these years later, I still don’t know what I wanted to say to the guys on the sofa, watching Los Angeles burn on television.