Journal Entry: June 1 SoHo, NYC

Written & Photo By: Eugene Kuo

June 1, 2020 SoHo/NYC

This is a great American novel.  Against a backdrop of the coronavirus pandemic, the killing of a black man by a white officer in Minneapolis sparks protests that become violent across the country. The president hides and throws virtual bombs on Twitter. What the f—k.

I watched CNN for an hour. The helicopters and sirens echoing through downtown Manhattan made it hard to concentrate on anything else. On screen, Washington burned. A bonfire and a restroom near the White House lit the screen. A reporter took off his gas mask to report the scene. He put it back on when the police fired tear gas towards them and the crowd began to ignite.

In New York, cops pushed against a crowd near Union Square. Chris Cuomo spoke in the voice of his brother, urging us to consider what we saw and not be quick to jump to a narrative. He pointed out the lack of black faces in D.C. and said that while anyone can protest racial justice and be outraged there were also actors at play who came to seed chaos. 

Who would have thought that in a time of two major crises playing out in America the voice of calm would come from two brothers in NY. One the voice of pandemic response. One the voice encouraging us to think about what is going on and to follow the chain of why. Why are people looting? Why are people protesting? Why was the police officer responsible for murdering a black man relieved from duty but not charged? Trevor Noah, in an 18 minute post on IG TV, mused on the same theme, pointing to a series of events: blacks dying disproportionately from the coronavirus to Arbery to Cooper to Floyd to this.

Yesterday morning I had the same conversation with A——. She said she’s not for looting. I said no one is for looting. But I get it. Trevor helped me dig into it. Memes on Reddit point out how black lives have been looted for hundreds of years. I have the conversation again with B——. He’s trying to make sense of it. We all are, I tell him I’ve been emotionally exhausted. We all are.

I go to bed at 11. The images on screen and the wild camera movements have made me nauseated. I’m feeling sick and for a moment I wonder if I could have caught the virus on my day out. I chalk it up to allergies. I was late with my medicine today.

At 1am I am awake. There are voices outside. Helicopters. Sirens. My phone has lit up with neighborhood alerts from Citizen. Nearby incident. Protesters at Greene Street & Broome Street. Nearby incident. Protesters on the road at 115 Greene Street. Nearby incident. Protesters on the road at Broadway & Broome Street. 900 feet away. Report of vehicle fire at 32 Grand. 900 feet away. Report of shots fired at 60 Greene Street. 609 feet away. Report of restaurant fire at Thompson Street & Prince Street. Nearby incident. Report of group armed with hammers at Spring Street & Wooster Street. Nearby incident. Commercial burglary at Spring Street & Mercer Street. Nearby incident. Protesters on the road at 92 Greene Street. Nearby incident. Protesters on the road at Spring Street & Wooster Street. Nearby incident. Protesters on the road at Greene Street & Broome Street.

A neighbor texts me to tell me he’s moved a package that has been delivered to me to the landing so it can’t be seen by looters passing by. He’s cleaned up the garbage in front of the building to prevent anyone from igniting it.

The helicopters and sirens and voices continue. On Friday, a coworker joked about everyone mowing their lawn at the same time like it was a competition. She had to close her windows to muffle the sound. I leave my window open. The helicopters come. The helicopters go. Voices ebb and flow. Sirens punctuate the night like periods. Or ellipses. A quick dot dot dot signaling more to come.

I fall into an uneasy dream. It feels like a dream I’ve had before but it begins this night with the threat of violence and coronavirus. I am outside. I am on the other side of SoHo trying to come home, but it’s not the SoHo I know. Streetlights are out and between the pools of light lie ominous spaces. There are figures that I seek to avoid. I don’t have a mask.

At 4am I wake to a police bullhorn. The metallic voice tells people to disperse or they will be arrested. The command sounds like it’s right outside my window but I see nothing when I look outside. The voices fade. The night ebbs. A helicopter comes to survey the area. The sound of its blades beating the sky mixes with the song of birds. It’s morning in America. I’m not sure what that means.

5:18 am.

About:

Eugene Kuo is an established UX/Product Designer and Photographer who currently resides in SoHo, NY. In 2012, he founded Glimpse, a video capturing and editing app, available on the App Store: https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/glimpse-video-storytelling/id969793701?mt=8