By Corine Lesnes
Born in San Jose to Ethiopian parents who came to America to pursue education, the young student is constantly fighting against racial prejudices she herself had been the victim.
In two hours, she is scheduled to speak in front of the demonstrators who, as every day, occupy the semi-circular plaza that surrounds the town hall of San Jose, on the edge of Silicon Valley. The speech is not ready, but it does not matter. Helen Kassa is busy handing out food parcels to families who have been left jobless by the coronavirus epidemic. The African American community center where she volunteers receives several hundred applicants per week. Preserves and diaper packages are stacked on the tables, the young volunteers are not idle. Now that racial justice is “trending”, food banks are coming forward before they are even asked: “Is there anything we can do for you?”
Helen, 21, should be preparing for her final exam. She is completing her studies in political science at the nearby Santa Clara University. A private university, a bit bourgeois for a daughter of a political refugee who, at 16, was already the president of the local chapter of the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People). But Santa Clara offered her a scholarship, and since the school is located near her home, she was able to pursue her higher education without ruining her parents’ income. The university has maintained the last courses. Not easy to stay motivated on the umpteenth dissertation on climate change when the revolution calls you. And when the professors pretend to ignore what’s going on outside. “When it came to Covid, it was the only thing that everyone wanted to talk about …”
Explaining “the privilege of being white”
The daughter of Ethiopian emigrants who arrived in the United States before her birth, Helen Kassa “did not have to internalize oppression like the descendants of slaves”. She became aware of the discrimination in third grade when she and her girlfriend were running through sprinkles on a hot day, and she was the only one to be suspended. She constantly had problems at school, but rarely enjoyed the same “merciful treatment as the others.”
It was a private school from which her mother quickly removed her. Not without having explained a thing or two to her about life and skin color. Better not to do anything stupid, “because they won’t see you as a child.” Since then, she has been on guard, her speech has softened.
Helen participated in protest and demonstration in City Hall Plaza in San Jose in 2012, after the murder of Trayvon Martin. At the same location, in 2014 during a protest for Michael Brown, and the list goes on. She still remembers conversations with high school classmates. This friend, daughter of a police officer, who wanted to establish that black universities are “racist” since they favor the admission of African Americans. This boy-friend of distant Irish origins, who also believed that he was the heir of the misery of his ancestors: they had been victims of discrimination when they arrived in the United States! She had tried to explain to him “the privilege of being white,” but not sure he ever understood. According to Helen, students who question her tend to care less about understanding than arguing, to show that they too are in one way or another oppressed. “No one wants to admit his life has been easy.”
At university, it was not easy. The classmates are nice until the time they came to discuss Colin Kaepernick’s taking a knee during the national anthem. They find this gesture inappropriate, saying they just want to watch the game quietly without worrying about politics, let alone discrimination. “And we thought we were in a post-racial era,” she sighs. When one of the student leaders posted a photo of him, almost in safari, with his stuffed Lion King, as he was about to set foot in Africa for the first time, she was annoyed. The comments full of stereotypes made her jump. It took a lot of tenacity but it got there: the student association now has an amendment which prohibits the denigration of foreign cultures on the part of a student leader on social networks.
When she learned of the death of Atlanta jogger, Ahmaud Arbery killed by police in February, Helen ran every day for a week. When she saw the video of George Floyd’s death, it took her a while to react, to formulate what she could “feel more” after these eight years of police brutality. After the depression came hope. For the first time, people recognize that “yes, there is a systemic problem”. Helen no longer has to justify and “fight, just for them to understand.” Even her conservative comrade has stopped arguing that acts of racism are mostly perpetrated by bad apples. And her college friend, the policeman’s daughter, sent her a message, “I got it. Helen thinks of her favorite song, which is about revenge by Beyonce.
The center of gravity has shifted
The country’s center of gravity has shifted. The money is flowing. The national fund opened to pay the bail of the arrested protesters. At the community center of San Jose, businesses are scrambling to participate. “Being Black Lives Matter now is good for business,” says Helen. This is the power that we have. It does not matter what the ulterior motives of the converts are. “If they do it for public relations reasons, it’s horrible. But we need money.” As for her speech in front of the demonstration in San Jose: “I will explain that we must push this revolution forward. ”
This article was first published by Le Monde.