Latest news with #DarnellaFrazier
Fast Company
23-06-2025
- Politics
- Fast Company
George Floyd to ICE raids: How smartphones are used to fight for justice
It has been five years since May 25, 2020, when George Floyd gasped for air beneath the knee of a Minneapolis police officer at the corner of 38th Street and Chicago Avenue. Five years since 17-year-old Darnella Frazier stood outside Cup Foods, raised her phone, and bore witness to nine minutes and 29 seconds that would galvanize a global movement against racial injustice. Frazier's video didn't just show what happened. It insisted the world stop and see. Today, that legacy continues in the hands of a different community, facing different threats but wielding the same tools. Across the United States, Latino organizers are raising their phones, not to go viral but to go on record. They livestream Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids, film family separations and document protests outside detention centers. Their footage is not merely content. It is evidence, warning—and resistance. Here in Los Angeles where I teach journalism, for example, several images have seared themselves into public memory. One viral video shows a shackled father stepping into a white, unmarked van as his daughter sobs behind the camera, pleading with him not to sign any official documents. He turns, gestures for her to calm down, and blows her a kiss. In another video, filmed across town, Los Angeles Police Department officers on horseback charge into crowds of peaceful protesters, swinging wooden batons with chilling precision. In Spokane, Washington, residents form a spontaneous human chain around their neighbors mid-raid, their bodies and cameras erecting a barricade of defiance. In San Diego, a video shows white allies yelling 'Shame!' as they chase a car full of National Guard troops from their neighborhood. The impact of smartphone witnessing has been immediate and unmistakable—visceral at street level, seismic in statehouses. On the ground, the videos helped inspire a ' No Kings' movement, which organized protests in all 50 states on June 14, 2025. Lawmakers are intensifying their focus on immigration policy as well. As the Trump administration escalates enforcement, Democratic-led states are expanding laws that limit cooperation with federal agents. On June 12, the House Oversight Committee questioned Democratic governors about these measures, with Republican lawmakers citing public safety concerns. The hearing underscored deep divisions between federal and state approaches to immigration enforcement. The legacy of Black witnessing What's unfolding now is not new—it is newly visible. As my research shows, Latino organizers are drawing from a playbook that was sharpened in 2020 and rooted in a much older lineage of Black media survival strategies that were forged under extreme oppression. In my 2020 book Bearing Witness While Black: African Americans, Smartphones and the New Protest Journalism, I document how Black Americans have used media—slave narratives, pamphlets, newspapers, radio and now smartphones—to fight for justice. From Frederick Douglass to Ida B. Wells to Darnella Frazier, Black witnesses have long used journalism as a tool for survival and transformation. Latino mobile journalists are building on that blueprint in 2025, filming state power in moments of overreach, archiving injustice in real time, and expanding the impact of this radical tradition. Their work also echoes the spatial tactics of Black resistance. Just as enslaved Black people once mapped escape routes during slavery and Jim Crow, Latino communities today are engaging in digital cartography to chart ICE-free zones, mutual aid hubs and sanctuary spaces. The People Over Papers map channels the logic of the Black maroons —communities of self-liberated Africans who escaped plantations to track patrols, share intelligence and build networks of survival. Now, the hideouts are digital. The maps are crowdsourced. The danger remains. Likewise, the Stop ICE Raids Alerts Network revives a civil rights-era tactic. In the 1960s, organizers used wide area telephone service lines and radio to circulate safety updates. Black DJs cloaked dispatches in traffic and weather reports—'congestion on the south side' signaled police blockades; 'storm warnings' meant violence ahead. Today, the medium is WhatsApp. The signal is encrypted. But the message—protect each other—has not changed. Layered across both systems is the DNA of the ' Negro Motorist Green Book,' the guide that once helped Black travelers navigate Jim Crow America by identifying safe towns, gas stations, and lodging. People Over Papers and Stop ICE Raids are digital descendants of that legacy. Where the Green Book used printed pages, today's tools use digital pins. But the mission remains: survival through shared knowledge, protection through mapped resistance. Dangerous necessity Five years after George Floyd's death, the power of visual evidence remains undeniable. Black witnessing laid the groundwork. In 2025, that tradition continues through the lens of Latino mobile journalists, who draw clear parallels between their own community's experiences and those of Black Americans. Their footage exposes powerful echoes: ICE raids and overpolicing, border cages and city jails, a door kicked in at dawn and a knee on a neck. Like Black Americans before them, Latino communities are using smartphones to protect, to document and to respond. In cities such as Chicago, Los Angeles, and El Paso, whispers of 'ICE is in the neighborhood' now flash across Telegram, WhatsApp, and Instagram. For undocumented families, pressing record can mean risking retaliation or arrest. But many keep filming—because what goes unrecorded can be erased. What they capture are not isolated incidents. They are part of a broader, shared struggle against state violence. And as long as the cameras keep rolling, the stories keep surfacing—illuminated by the glow of smartphone screens that refuse to look away.
Los Angeles Times
18-06-2025
- Politics
- Los Angeles Times
Firsthand footage of ICE raids is both witness and resistance
It has been five years since May 25, 2020, when George Floyd gasped for air beneath the knee of a Minneapolis police officer on the corner of 38th Street and Chicago Avenue. Five years since 17-year-old Darnella Frazier stood on the curb outside Cup Foods, raised her phone, and bore witness to nine minutes and 29 seconds that would galvanize a global movement against racial inequality. Frazier's video didn't just show what happened. It insisted the world stop and see. Today, that legacy lives on in the hands of a different community, facing different threats but wielding the same tools. Across the United States, Latino organizers are lifting their phones not to go viral but to go on record. They are livestreaming Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids, filming family separations, documenting protests outside detention centers. Their footage is not content. It is evidence. It is warning. It is resistance. Here in Los Angeles, where I teach journalism, several images have seared themselves into public memory. One viral video shows a shackled father stepping into a white, unmarked van — his daughter sobbing behind the camera, pleading with him not to sign any official documents. He turns, gestures for her to calm down, then blows her a kiss. Across town, LAPD officers on horseback charged at peaceful protesters. In Spokane, Wash., residents formed a spontaneous human chain around their undocumented neighbors mid-raid, their bodies and cameras forming a barricade of defiance. In San Diego, white allies yelled 'Shame!' as they chased a car of uniformed National Guard troops out of their neighborhood. The impact of smartphone witnessing has been both immediate and unmistakable — visceral at street level, seismic in statehouses. On the ground, the videos have fueled the 'No Kings' movement, which organized protests in all 50 states last weekend. Legislators are responding too — with sparks flying in the halls of the Capitol. As President Trump ramps up immigration enforcement, Democratic-led states are digging in, tightening state laws that limit cooperation with federal agents. Local TV news coverage has incorporated witnesses' smartphone video, helping it reach a wider audience. What's unfolding now is not new — it is newly visible. Latino organizers are drawing from a playbook sharpened in 2020, one rooted in a longer lineage of Black media survival strategies forged during slavery and Jim Crow. In 2020, I wrote about how Black Americans have used various media formats to fight for racial and economic equality — from slave narratives to smartphones. I argued that Frederick Douglass and Ida B. Wells were doing the same work as Darnella Frazier: using journalism as a tool for witnessing and activism. In 2025, Latinos who are filming the state in moments of overreach — archiving injustice in real time — are adapting, extending and carrying forward Black witnesses' work. Moreover, Latinos are using smartphones for digital cartography much as Black people mapped freedom during the eras of slavery and Jim Crow. The People Over Papers map, for example, reflects an older lineage: the resistance tactics of Black Maroons — enslaved Africans who fled to swamps and borderlands, forming secret networks to evade capture and warn others. These early communities shared intelligence, tracked patrols and mapped out covert paths to safety. People Over Papers channels that same logic — only now the hideouts are ICE-free zones, mutual aid hubs and sanctuary spaces. The map is crowdsourced. The borders are digital. The danger is still very real. Likewise, the Stop ICE Raids Alerts Network revives a civil-rights-era blueprint. During the 1960s, activists used Wide Area Telephone Service lines and radio to share protest routes, police activity and safety updates. Black DJs often masked dispatches as traffic or weather reports — 'congestion on the south side' meant police roadblocks, 'storm warnings' signaled incoming violence. Today, that infrastructure lives again through WhatsApp chains, encrypted group texts and story posts. The platforms have changed. The mission has not. Layered across both systems is the DNA of 'The Negro Motorist Green Book,' the guide that once helped Black travelers navigate Jim Crow America by identifying safe towns, gas stations and lodging. People Over Papers and Stop ICE Raids are digital descendants of that legacy: survival through shared knowledge, protection through mapped resistance. The Latino community's use of smartphones in this moment is not for spectacle. It's for self-defense. In cities like Chicago, Los Angeles and El Paso, what begins as a whisper — 'ICE is in the neighborhood' — now races through Telegram, WhatsApp and Instagram. A knock becomes a livestream. A raid becomes a receipt. A video becomes a shield. For undocumented families, the risk is real. To film is to expose oneself. To go live is to become a target. But many do it anyway. Because silence can be fatal. Because invisibility protects no one. Because if the story is not captured, it can be denied. Five years after Floyd's final breath, the burden of proof still falls heaviest on the most vulnerable. America demands footage before outrage. Tape before reform. Visual confirmation before compassion. And still, justice is never guaranteed. But 2020 taught us that smartphones, in the right hands, can fracture the status quo. In 2025, that lesson is echoing again, this time through the lens of Latino mobile journalists. Their footage is unflinching. Urgent. Righteous. It connects the dots: between ICE raids and over-policing, between a border cage and a city jail, between a knee on a neck and a door kicked in at dawn. These are not isolated events. They are chapters in the same story of government repression. And because the cameras are still rolling — and people are still recording — those stories are being told anew. Five years ago, we were forced to see the unbearable. Now, we are being shown the undeniable. Allissa V. Richardson, an associate professor of journalism and communication at USC, is the author of 'Bearing Witness While Black: African Americans, Smartphones, and the New Protest #Journalism.' This article was produced in partnership with the Conversation.
Yahoo
27-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Darnella Frazier 5 years after George Floyd's murder: ‘We did not forget'
The Brief Darnella Frazier was at the site of the encounter where Derek Chauvin killed George Floyd, recording the video that later sparked worldwide protest and efforts for police reform. On the five-year anniversary of his death, she has taken to social media to say his legacy has not been forgotten. Minneapolis officials say they continue to work toward police reform in Minneapolis, despite uncertainty at the federal level. (FOX 9) - Five years after George Floyd was murdered by former Minneapolis Police Officer Derek Chauvin, the woman who filmed the video that showed the majority of the encounter – that led to subsequent protests throughout the city in the following days – says in a new social media post that she has not forgotten the encounter, and has no plans to stay silent. Darnella Frazier post On May 25, 2020, Darnella Frazier recorded a portion of the encounter between Floyd and Chauvin, during which Floyd is pinned under Chauvin's knee for a little more than 9 minutes - later determined to be a contributing factor in his death. Frazier later testified during Chauvin's trial. In a social media post, Frazier is recalling the legacy of Floyd since the fateful encounter. "Just imagine how he'd feel knowing he's still remembered and his name is still being honored, his story is still being told, his pictures are still being displayed, and his memorial is still a powerful memory," the post says in part. Describing the scene she saw while recording, Frazier went on to address the aftermath in the day and years that followed. "We did not forget about what happened to you. We crowded the streets behind you. We did not forget your cry's. We marched and demanded justice for you. We did not forget how your life was taken from you," the post says, before concluding that she will "never be silent." Several events were held leading up to the anniversary of Floyd's death, including a festival featuring food vendors and music at George Floyd Square, that ended with a vigil and prayer. What's next Created to institute systemic police reforms in the aftermath of Floyd's death, the Department of Justice filed a motion last week to dismiss the federal consent decree against the City of Minneapolis Mayor Frey said the city will move forward with policing reform regardless of what is decided at the federal level, Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O'Hara has also expressed the department is committed to change. The city also has a separate consent decree agreement with the State of Minnesota.
