152. Riots

A friend posted something on Facebook today that got me thinking. The verdict of white transit officer Mehserle for shooting a black youth in the back was about to be announced and she was anticipating trouble in Oakland tonight.

In the end of April 1992 I finishing up my bachelors degree after transferring back to USC. Rodney King, a black man had been beaten by white police men a year previous and even though a trial was in process it wasn't in the fore front of many Angelenos thoughts. A bunch of us were hanging around the outdoor courtyard in the art department when the verdict that acquitted the white police men of all chargers was announced. My friend Delta, a black woman, turned to me and said, "Girl, get your white ass back to the Valley." I laughed and ignored her warnings.

I had an important on campus meeting that night. A few months earlier a crazy architecture student sprayed an art piece of mine with glue. It was ruined and the only way to gain restitution was to "sue" him in student court. That night, the night the LA Riots began, I had my day in court. We entered the student meeting room late in the afternoon. The agenda was long and they didn't address my item until almost 9 o'clock.  Once the student officers heard my case, they soon found in my favor. The meeting was adjourned.

We walked out of the student center to an eerily empty and quiet campus. We had no idea that anarchy had broken out while we were inside modeling our own form of democracy. In 1992 there were no cell phones or texting. I had no idea what was happening until I saw a palm tree on fire on the 110 freeway. The city streets were practically deserted.

My parents, boyfriend, and roommates had been watching hours of angry people destroying the city on television. Much of the violence just blocks from the USC campus. My love ones had no idea why I wasn't home. Why I hadn't called. If I was OK. On television they watched two videos the media obsessively looped - only adding fuel to the fire. The first started it all - the white officers beating Rodney King. The second - a new video from the early hours of rioting. A video of a white truck driver pulled out of his car by an angry mob and beaten lifeless.

They were all thrilled to know I was alive and well. We spent the next several days watching the violence peak and slowly burn out. It took 6 days. The National Guard was called in to gain control over Los Angeles.  A curfew was imposed to try and quench the violence, looting, and insanity. In the San Fernando Valley, my white ass was very safe. Little of the riots reached the Valley. But it was terrifying watching the lawlessness. Unbelievable.

This was my last week of college. All but one of my finals were cancelled. The one final I did take six days after the violence began had two national guardsmen standing outside protecting the classroom. A few days later my graduation was also marked by many, many national guardsmen assuring that no violence occurred. It was a beautiful and peaceful day.

USC is located in South Central Los Angeles. It was at ground zero for the riots. Buildings were destroyed on all four sides of the campus, but the USC campus was untouched. Why? The national guard did not deploy until several days into the riots. It is something I have thought about for years now. The riots were driven by angry, young men that were lacking in economic and educational opportunities. USC must provide promise and opportunity to the surrounding community for it to have come out unscathed. As I think back today on the time of the riots a knot forms in my stomach. So much of what caused the riots 18 years ago has not been remedied. The bad economy, lack of opportunities, colleges turning away young students eager to learn... a recipe for yet another disaster.