They’ve gone dark: Afghans who helped the U.S. military, trained as American-style journalists and rode the wave of women heading to higher education are destroying the diplomas, transcripts and résumés that prove how they built civil society in the country that the U.S. has left behind.
Q&A: Youth activist describes protest, arrest over Ferguson case
GSS contributor Reede Goldberg, a senior at the Ethical Culture Fieldston School in New York, interviewed Adam Ettelbrick at his family’s apartment on Manhattan’s Upper West Side two weeks after a photo of Ettelbrick being arrested during a protest appeared in the New York Post. Here is the edited transcript of that interview.
Reede Goldberg: Tell me about how you got involved. How did you make the decision to speak out?
Adam Ettelbrick: There was a walkout planned (in New York) which was a week to the day that the Michael Brown decision came out in Ferguson that (police officer) Darren Wilson was not going to be indicted. And the plan was for students across (the city) to walk out of their classrooms with their hands up. There was also a separate march planned for the kids who had walked out. I had been in communication with a lot of the students who were organizing this, and so (other Fieldston students) and I went down to Union Square. We first marched in a circle … and then (my friends) and I and other people started leading the march.
RG: What did you notice as the protest began?
AE: The first thing I noticed was (how) aggressive the cops were being, because the previous Tuesday we had shut down the West Side Highway and they hadn’t touched us at all, and that seemed like a much bigger deal than shutting down Third Avenue in the middle of the day. We turned up on Third Avenue and 16th Street and we marched up to 17th Street. We (kept) marching and then we (took over) the right-hand side of the street. The cops (were) trying to (set up a) barricade and we jumped over their barricade several times. And they finally said, “You have one more chance or we’ll start making arrests if you don’t get onto the sidewalk.”
RG: Why didn’t you stop?
AE: I didn’t think they were serious because they had made the threat of arrest before … so I was like, “Okay, this is the only threat they have, they’re not gonna just tear gas us out of the blue, so they can threaten to arrest us and they’re not gonna do it.” Also, my (school) adviser is Rachel Ehrlich … has a picture in her office of this activist, saying, “We are not blocking traffic; we are traffic” … that quote rung out in my head because when you talk about traffic on a regular day, it’s something that happens for the normalcy of the day, right?
RG: Can you elaborate? What do you mean by “traffic” and “normalcy?”
AE: We need traffic to move stuff around — that’s how the economy keeps going. And part of what we say is that there will be no normalcy until people aren’t murdered based on the color of their skin.
RG: What happened next?
AE: I turned around to the march, and I shouted, “whose streets?” — which is a common chant — and they replied, “our streets!” Deafeningly. I linked arms with the people next to me, and all of the sudden the cops are like, “That’s it, you’re coming with us.”
RG: And then?
AE: [A police officer] grabbed me out of the link, tackled me onto the ground. And I remember lying there; I was on my hands and knees, and I was looking behind me just thinking, “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” And they handcuffed me. The “whose streets? Our streets!” chant was still going, so I kept chanting. And then—something that I just remembered in the middle of the night the other night—they pulled me onto my knees. I had my hands behind my back, and I started screaming, “Help!” And I don’t know who I was asking to help me, you know? Because normally, you’re like “Oh, God, I need help — the police! Call the police!” Right? But the police were the ones who were hurting me … how helpless you feel when you need help but the people who are supposed to help you are the ones hurting you. That’s a really, really horrible thing to feel. As a white kid, I barely have ever had that feeling.
(The police) dragged me to my feet (and) put me in an arm stress position. I told them I would go with them peacefully, and could they please stop hurting my arm.
RG: So were you arrested? How did you stay in contact with your fellow protesters?
AE: (The police) started walking me back to the van, (my) picture was taken, and a couple of National Lawyers Guild people were asking me for my name.
What we have (among protesters) is this thing called “Jail Support.” Everyone who is involved in organizing is on a network of text messages, and if people are arrested they text their name. Let’s say I was arrested, and you were like, “What’s your name?” and I told you, “Adam Ettlebrick.” You would text, “Adam Ettlebrick just arrested,” and someone would search for me in the system and then people would come and wait outside where I was being held for my release, to give me food and water. So we are supporting the people who are sacrificing things for this movement, which is a pretty cool thing.
They brought me back to the van, they shoved me on the side of the van, took my metal handcuffs off, put plastic zip ties on, and threw me in the van. We drove around for, like, 30 minutes, went to the 13th precinct, but they didn’t have enough room for us. My phone, wallet, and keys were taken. They threw us back in the van and at the 13th precinct (even though there was no room) I was told I would be charged with disobeying a direct order, disorderly conduct, and resisting arrest. I asked, “Why was I charged with resisting arrest?” And they said, “because your arms were linked when we arrested you, which is technically resisting.”
They brought me to central booking, which is the jail downtown, and booked me. (They) took my shoelaces and belt, and put me in a holding cell by myself for about 45 minutes.
RG: How long were you held there? Did you get a chance to call your parents or friends?
AE: About five other guys ended up coming in and we were in there for, like, the next six hours. We were denied our phone calls and rights to see our lawyer by the supervisor, which they can apparently do for up to 24 hours. But it still felt really, really wrong. Anybody who has a basic knowledge of the law thinks, “Oh, when you get arrested, you get your Miranda Rights, your right to see a lawyer, and you get to make a phone call.” None of that happened to any of us, and none of that’s been happening to any of the protesters getting arrested.
RG: A story and photo about your arrest appeared in the second page of the New York Post the day after your arrest. Why do you think your arrest got so much attention?
AE: I think my arrest got so much attention for three reasons, the first of which is just luck. There are lots of photographers out there and they take a lot of pictures and my face could have easily been like this (makes ugly face) as it was a regular face. So I think it was just luck that they happened to take the photograph at that time and that it ended up being a good photo.
I think the second reason is because I was a student … they said I was a man in the photograph, but I’m obviously a (young) guy.
And the third reason, maybe the most important reason, is, I’m white. It’s not every day that you see white kids being dragged away by the police. So it was newsworthy just because of the color of my skin. Which is pretty fucked up…
RG: How has all this impacted your life?
AE: It definitely has impacted my life … in two ways. Mainly, (at) school where people are like, “Look at you! You’re so cool!” And I don’t know how to respond to all of this…
But the arrest has actually been more impactful in the sense that I am afraid now when I see police officers, which is something that most white kids never have to deal with. And it’s important because a lot of kids of color do deal with this. They walk down the street and if they see a police officer, they take their hands out of their pocket. They walk slowly and they don’t seem sketchy or nervous. Most white kids never think about that. So, it has given me new perspective.
When I was in jail I was treated with politeness by the police… but they treated the black guys in the cell with me with such disdain. They were asked what the color of their skin was, they were asked what the color of their hair was, and… if they were a citizen. And while those questions may not seem so bad, the whole thing has a dehumanizing effect.
It struck me (that) there was a disparity between how I was treated and how the people of color who I was in there with (were treated). It was the same thing we’re out there protesting.
RG: Why did you join this protest in the first place?
AE: Social justice for me is the biggest priority. I grew up in a family with two gay moms who were both gay rights lawyers (and) instilled me with this sense of “this is right, and this is wrong, and we’ve got a lot of wrong in our world.” So what influenced me to get involved was (a sense of) universal humanity. These are human beings out here who are being killed with impunity and what are we doing about it?
There’s a lot of apathy, kids who say, “this doesn’t affect me so why should I care?” [But] it does affect them. It affects every single person who lives in this country. Because it is slow genocide, right?
RG: Any final words? What would you say to another student who’s thinking about joining a protest?
AE: I would add two things, and one is to the people who feel like this is not their fight. There is a poem that was written (about) the Holocaust. And it goes, “First they came for Jews and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew. And then they came for the Gypsies and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Gypsy. And then they came for the gays and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a gay. And then they came for me and there was nobody left to speak up for me.”
There are a million ways you can connect. If you have a father, you can understand what it would be like to have them killed by the police, right? And if you have a brother, you can understand what it would be like to find out that (he) had been shot and killed? You have countless relationships. It doesn’t have to be, “Oh, I’m black and so I can understand this because I’m black,” (or) “I’m white, and I can’t understand this because I’m white.” That is not what it’s about … what connects us, what has us get out there and change the world is not separated by the lines of race.
The last thing I would say is that this is a spectacular, spectacular movement. I was on the phone with a friend the other night and I said, “We’re changing the world.” And she says, “Adam, don’t be ridiculous … you can’t know until afterwards if you’re changing the world.”
(But) that’s not true. We’re changing minds. And for anybody who was out there marching, we’ve changed their world. Everybody who sees this and says, ‘I’m gonna stand up’ — we’re changing their world, too.
