A portrait of George Floyd hangs on a streetlight as law enforcement officers oversee a confrontation with a group of demonstrators on May 27, 2020, in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
Stephen Maturen/Getty
“What do you think the chances are that our home will be destroyed tonight?”
As we calculated the specific risks associated with our block in the neighborhood where the police killed George Floyd—the gas station nearby, the small businesses across the alley, and the intersection of major commercial routes—it was the day before the fifth night of unrest. Listening to my husband and me engage in a technical debate about probabilities felt surreal. I recognized it was time to act; we needed to evacuate our two young children.
I reached out to the other three families on our street that I had been communicating with via text. By nightfall—before the highways leading in and out of the city were closed and before the City of Minneapolis warned residents to secure their dumpsters and soak them in water to prevent arson—we all agreed to move our children to a safer location.
A cyclist passes by a burned building after a night of protests and chaos on May 29, 2020, in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
Scott Olson/Getty
Before I made this decision, I grappled with whether it was right for me, as a white woman with white children, to leave. I was concerned about the ethical implications and how it might be perceived. It wasn’t until I began writing this that I realized: all of the other children were black. The priority was their safety. Soon after, our City Council member confirmed our choice. “I’m advising vulnerable populations to evacuate the Lake Street corridor,” she tweeted, “This area will not be safe for children and elders.” Protecting children is a universal responsibility for all adults, regardless of their race.