This is a reflection on my June 3rd Moral Monday arrest that I originally posted on my blog and facebook on June 21st.
I tried to capture the experience for my fellow arrestees from my own perspective.
I hope it is clear why we engaged in this civil disobedience.
Why I Engaged in Civil Disobedience at the North Carolina General Assembly Building
A great friend and mentor asked me to write about my experience of getting arrested in the legislative building on Jones Street in Raleigh, NC on June 3, 2013.
I am disappointed in myself that I have not written anything about it until now. However, as I tell everyone I can, the ONLY thing I get more CONSERVATIVE about as I get older is the notion that Everything DOES happen for a reason.
I didn't return for the 6th Wave of Moral Monday on June 10, as I intended, but I did make it to Raleigh on Monday, June 17 with my fiancée Brooke Bissette. We made it up to the Halifax Mall for the final portion of the rally after the heroes with the green bands made their way into the legislative building to petition their state government for grievances through civil disobedience, loud singing and the displaying of (state statute prohibited) "unlawful" placards or signs. It is, however, their (U.S. & NC) Constitutional right to do so (read both constitutions if you don't believe me).
I was disappointed that I was not there to cheer on the heroes this time as so many did last time as I walked in to certain detainment. However, the "alumni" of Moral Monday arrestees were called to the front of the stage at the rally. Brooke greatly urged me to go. So, I went.
We were led in the singing of songs that were familiar to us that have already been arrested to that point.
"Ain't gonna let nobody turn me around...turn me around..."
"Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe we shall overcome someday..."
They were echoes of the civil rights movement that came before us where people gave so much more...which, in turn, was an echo of the abolitionist & suffrage movements that came before that.
It seems odd that in the 21st Century (where our criminal records are documented with laser-scanning technology and computers) that we have to stand again and sing the songs that seemed to have wrapped a good portion of the movement of the good souls to this point....
BUT...
Here we are.
I first heard of "Moral Mondays" just as I heard of HKonJ (Historic Thousands on Jones Street...which started, I should point out, when Democrats controlled all branches of state government). It wasn't a "gimmick" phrase or brand...but it wasn't concrete either.
It wasn't until I attended the 13th Congressional District (North Carolina Democratic Party) Convention as the Former Chair of the Wilson County Democratic Party & a delegate (my parting official position with the party) that HKonJ and Moral Mondays sweetly pierced my heart.
A 92-year-old mother of a Moral Monday arrestee (and the chair of the Franklin County Democratic Party) Armenta Eaton stood up and put forth a resolution for our 13th Congressional District Convention of the North Carolina Democratic Party to support Moral Mondays.
She spoke of her daughter's arrest. She spoke of women, elderly, minorities, children, sickly, poor; working poor...She basically spoke to my heart's core. It is for these people that I have driven myself to work politically and within the community to make things better for all of them...all of us. She spoke to me. She spoke to the convention. She spoke to the state. She made HKonJ and Moral Mondays PERSONAL.
I agreed with her, clapping, with tears in my eyes and became resolute that I would pray on acting in civil disobedience in the legislative building very soon in my life's future.
As I mentioned before, everything happens for a reason.
I didn't go to the May 20 Moral Monday (two days after the convention).
I made sure I was off of work and my calendar was clear for June 3. Brooke went with me and was so supportive and patient with her activist fiancé. She even considered being arrested with me. Her love and support was enough, though.
We made it to the debriefing and training session at a church in Raleigh just after 3pm. The church was FULL!
There was an attempt made by (what I found out later to be) the NAACP legal team to check everyone in, but there were so many folks that were willing to be arrested. This was "Mega Moral Monday," after all.
I found two friends from Wilson (particularly the Wilson branch of the NAACP, of which I have been and are now a member), Charles Cook and Frank Jones. They are both very close to the Rev. Dr. William Barber who has been the rock, the fire and the calming hand on this growing storm of reaction to the regressive policies of the GOP-led North Carolina General Assembly.
I happened to be standing near Charles and Frank when there was a call for prayer. I was honored to place my hand on Frank's shoulder before saying "Amen," and making my way to the back of the church [remember...it was crowded! :-)]
I stood at the back and listened to the testimonies, the prayers and the instructions for those that chose to practice civil disobedience. Strips of green cloth were passed out to those that volunteered to get arrested. Soon after that, instructions were given that a bus was available to take the "heroes" to Halifax Mall. It would return for all that needed a ride. I met up with Brooke, gave her all my possessions (including my cell phone, wallet, "ASA" hat and buttons), and kissed her goodbye.
After grabbing a bottle of water and eating some almonds before going to the restroom, I ventured outside and spoke with some of my fellow green-banders. I spoke at length with Chip Smith, who had been arrested once before in protest of the death penalty in Pennsylvania in 2000 before moving to the Rocky Mount area. He heard I was from Wilson and told me that he plays bridge at the J.C. Harris Cadillac dealership. It was a calming and emboldening conversation.
The impending arrest was becoming more real to me as the bus pulled up to the stop at Halifax Mall. The driver was kind. He smiled. I smiled and said, "Thank you for the ride." He nodded in appreciation of what we were all about to do.
I made my way out on to the Halifax Mall. I was first met by Olivia Neeley from The Wilson Times back home. Frank Jones had told her that some Wilson folks were there and recognized me from the stage. She interviewed me for the article asking me why I was there and why I was about to be arrested. I told her the story of Ms. Eaton's mother and the call within my soul to be there. I told her that I may be a drop in the bucket, but maybe I or the person next to me might be the drop to make it overflow and bring the change needed for this state, and by influence, the nation.
Soon after that, I found Brooke. I stood with her for a time and listened, cheered and clapped. Then I felt the call.
I wandered to where I thought the green-banded volunteers were to go. I ran into Jake Gellar-Goad, a friend and great Eastern Region Organizer for Democracy North Carolina. He introduced me to his friends Evelyn Paul (already a Facebook friend for me) and Michael Schachter from New Bern. We stood together and listened and watched and then moved to gather in line to enter the GA building.
We gathered two by two to walk in.
I noted (at least in my head...I may have said it out loud) that it was kind of like the animals gathering two by two onto the Ark before the Great Flood (which changed the world). [Mental post note: It is also notable that my thought pairs the word Ark with the word in the wonderful phrase: "The Arc of the Moral Universe is long, but it bends Toward Justice."]
When I met with my mentor and friend on July 4 to discuss the possibility of him being arrested for civil disobedience the following Monday, he revealed to me a vision that he had. He said he envisioned a woman standing with him in the "two-by-two" line. He asked her, "Are you scared?" She responded, "I am." He responded, "Me too."
This reminded me that I was paired with a woman whose eyes I could shield with the evening light angle. I did my best to shield her eyes as we walked in together.
When we got to the General Assembly building, she indicated that she needed to go to the restroom. I tried to help her find one and then she found one on her own. I felt tied to her and lost as I waited for her to return. I realized I was scared without her. She was my partner. I waited for her as long as I could and then I realized that it was time.
The Rev. Dr. Barber asked if there were other folks that wore the green strips of cloth. He encouraged us to move closer to the golden doors of the General Assembly.
We went in. We gathered around the fountain. We sang. We prayed. We cheered.
I looked for my partner and I couldn't make her out in the crowd. I knew she was there, though. I felt comfort in the 149 others that were prepared to be arrested with us. I settled in next to a woman I recognized from a video that was made to oppose the North Carolina Amendment One. I sang and prayed next to her. I felt comfort in numbers.
We sang. We prayed. We cheered. We prayed.
Then General Assembly Police Chief Jeff Weaver made the announcement that we had five minutes to disperse or we would all be subject to arrest.
We continued to sing. We continued to pray. We continued to pray.
Then, one by one (after "one minute" and "time's up" warnings from Chief Weaver), we were led to the elevators in small groups by GAPD and Raleigh (Capital) Police. We were then led to the basement (bowels) of the legislative building and gathered in the cafeteria.
It's at this point that I should point out that GAPD Chief Weaver, the GAPD, the RPD, the Wake County EMS, the Wake County Sheriff's Department and the CCBI treated us with the utmost grace and respect that I could have ever imagined. I thank them for doing their jobs and treating all of us protesters with care.
We were there for about two hours (most of us) as we waited for our name to be called to be led into the next room and the next step of processing.
Along the way, I sat beside two older gentleman who both confessed that they are current Democrats, but former Republicans who agreed that the Republican Party left them behind. I also sat near a gentleman named John Arnold, who as it turned out, was detained/arrested by a group that included his son-in-law who is an officer for the Raleigh Police Department (SWAT team too). I, Bruce Arnold and other fellow arrestees agreed that this was the story of the night! They took pictures that were posed greatly and are sure to be great memories for the family.
As we were moved further along in the seats, a group of very lively, happy women led us in singing of old sixties songs. One woman in front of me was trying to remember the name of one female singer in particular. Carole King was noted, but I was trying to remember the singer of the “Big Yellow Taxi” song with her. I kept thinking Joan Collins, but we both remembered Joni Mitchell around the same time.
They loaded us onto inmate transfer buses in groups of 25. Once they got us to the bottom, we walked out into the loading area and we heard chants of "Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!" along with great cheers from the group that remained assembled after a terrible storm was unleashed onto the city.
On the way to the Wake County Detention Center, we stuck our zip tie cuffs out the windows and sang "This Little Light of Mine," along with some other songs that we had sung inside the General Assembly building.
When we got to the detention center, we were ordered on benches, searched one by one and our possessions were placed into our envelopes that were set up at the General Assembly. In lieu of a body cavity search, they had a chair we sat on to determine if we had metal hidden in our bodies. A rolling of our face on a mark on the top of the chair determined if we had metal in our mouths/faces.
After this, it was a waiting game. It was a long waiting game. Our bus arrived at the detention center at around 8:45 or so.
I had great conversations with doctors, pastors, professors, retired individuals (such as Bruce Alexander). I was very grateful for the wisdom and comradery that I received from those that chose to be arrested on the same day as me.
We cheered those that moved into the next room that was the City-County Bureau of Identification (CCBI) when their name was called.
I did not get in to the CCBI room until about ten 'til 4am. We were interviewed about our name, address, occupation, etc. and then our prints and mug shots were taken. My mug shot (attached here on my poster) wasn't taken until 4:15am.
I finally saw the magistrate with those that would be the final four with me just before 5am. Lawrence, Robert, Carlton, thank you for keeping me together in that final hour.
I walked out on my own written promise to appear in court at about 5am. Most of the well-wishers had left. It was a long night for the processing of 151 + people. Those that remained, though, were fellow arrestees, the NAACP NC Conference legal team and Senator Earline Parmon. Senator Parmon was so kind and so proud of all of us. I was quite amazed that she was there at 5am to welcome the final four out.
She is a fine example of a representative that cares about all North Carolinians. Her colleagues have a lot to learn from her!
Having no cell phone and having not set up a ride to get back to Wilson (about an hour away), I set off for downtown Raleigh with the hopes that I could find a pay phone and make a collect call home and get Brooke to come pick me up. I walked about 3 miles towards Raleigh and I came across a BP station. The owner wasn't there yet. I tried my parents' number. They had collect calls blocked. I tried Brooke's Mom's number. She accepted my call. Brooke was there and made plans to come get me.
In the meantime, the News & Observer had been delivered to the store. I opened it up and scanned the headline and read the article about Moral Monday. Then I re-bound the papers and walked to the edge of the parking lot when the owner arrived. Not too long after I had set up the arrival of Brooke to take me home, the owner of the BP kicked me off his property and told me he couldn't have me sitting there like that. It was a slap in the face, but that's life.
Brooke arrived about an hour and a half later and I was on my way home to Wilson with her. I told her about the night and the sights I had seen and the sounds I had heard. I told her about the wisdom of my fellow arrestees and I realized that this was the absolute right time, right place and right action to take. I was grateful to be back in Wilson with Brooke and enjoy a breakfast before I finally slept at 10am. I was home.
On June 17th, on our way to Halifax Mall when we returned to Moral Mondays, I ran into Pastor Lawrence Womack, who was one of the final four released from the Wake County Detention Center on June 3, along with Pastor Robert Hood and Pastor Carlton Eversley and me (Preacher's Kid). The joy I saw on his face and the joy I felt inside were incomparable. I wondered if this was how the "Brothers in Arms" from the Dire Straits song felt when they saw each other alive again.
I introduced him to Brooke and I shook hands with another fellow arrestee from Pastor Womack's county, Pastor Williard Bass. I wished them peace and Godspeed and we passed along with smiles on our faces and love in our hearts.
When we returned to the area across from where they loaded the inmate transfer buses after the rally, I found one aspect to be telling of the whole HKonJ and Moral Monday/Witness Wednesday movement.
You see, there's one aspect of my history that I'm leaving out. My Dad is the Rev. Henry Duval "Greg" Gregory IV. That indicates history just by his name. Our story spans back a few more generations that are peppered with pastors, theologians and servants within the Presbyterian Church (USA) faith.
When Toussaint L'Ouverture was leading the Haitian Revolution that would lead to the independent nation of Haiti, my family was a family of sugar planters on the island of San Domingue.
When Toussaint's right-hand man, General Dessalines, led the violent portion of the revolution, my family was murdered, first with the head of the household being poisoned. The whole family succumbed to death, except for a boy named Caspar Ramsey Gregoire.
He encountered a former family slave in the streets of Port-au-Prince. Instead of killing him, the family slave negotiated his passage on a boat piloted by Captain Jones. Captain Jones delivered Caspar to Philadelphia, where he was taken in by a Presbyterian family. We have been Presbyterian ever since.
As I have argued in a Senior Religious Studies seminar at East Carolina University, "...we are, by debt, pacifists."
It was also telling that I ran into my friend David LaMotte, who told me that he had been arrested the week before. He also informed me that his father was being arrested this time. David and his father come from the Presbyterian Church and I am so proud of both of them for standing in their faith against the cruelness of this GOP-led regressive legislation.
He told me he had never been more proud of his father with a huge, peaceful smile on his face. That rings true.
When I was carried off in a bus, I heard "Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!" Two weeks later, when I returned to support the heroes, we chanted "Thank You! We LOVE You!"
That's the essence. That's the spirit. That's why I was arrested on June 3.
If these NC legislators understood that, we wouldn't be practicing civil disobedience and gumming up the court calendars with our physical petitions of grievance.
UPDATE: Armenta Eaton's 92-year-old mother, Rosa Nell "Rosie" Eaton, decided that she had had enough and was arrested earlier tonight on June 24, 2013.
She is inspiration enough for the continuation of the FORWARD TOGETHER movement (she inspired me!!!)! :-)