The Heroes of Our Society

A personal essay by Kayla Larsen

"Let's join the fight to bring peace back to America. Let's stand up for what is right, even if it's hard."

Racism
As a young adult, I went on a date with a man who we will call Matt. Matt came and picked me up at my apartment, waiting outside for me to come them opening the door for me like a perfect gentleman. His car was freshly cleaned, but a long deep crack ran through the windshield, like the long deep void in my life at the time. A void which would not be filled for years by “finding myself”. We went to Cabela’s, a hunting and fishing store, walking around and talking the entire time. His stories mirrored some in my own life and it would be remiss to say I wasn’t thinking about a second date. After sitting in the parking lot eating our dinner, he brought up politics, the worst idea possible. He acknowledged a Black Lives Matter silent protest down the street from our apartments, saying “It makes me want to put on the KKK uniform and burn a cross in their yard.” 

I didn’t know how I felt about racism until this very moment, so I thank Matt for helping me to find myself and my voice. Needless to say, he didn’t get a second date.

My own reckoning with race began as a young child when I attended Sacrament meeting and my family befriended the only African American family in our ward. I did not know what race was at the time, I only wondered why the children did not look like their mother, who was Caucasian. I did not care that they did not have the same skin color as me, I just knew that they were my friends.

I did not grow up in a predominantly “white” area, so I have learned to appreciate each race and the different things they bring to society. The more I learned, the more complicated race became. I used to believe we needed to be colorblind, but now I have realized that accepting and cherishing our own races and heritages is the only option. Everything is not so “black and white”, each race brings something new to the table.

My Own Hero
As a police officer’s daughter, I grew up looking 

at my father as a hero. As I have entered my adult life, that has not changed. He is still 7 feet tall and made of steel in my mind. Watching him in his dress blues and full gear have been some of the proudest moments of my life.  In the year 2020, I witnessed the havoc wreaked by extremist groups over race. This divided the country more so than before. I have always respected Martin Luther King Jr. and his sense of peace. King persuaded his fellow citizens to stand up for themselves peacefully and to abide by the law, but these current demonstrations were the opposite of peaceful. 

Watching bottles of urine, spit, and trash being thrown at my hero was horrifying. It destroyed our whole family and friends. I laid in bed awake until I heard the sound of his footsteps walking down the hall at night. I listened to my Mom’s breath catching every time she turned on the news. I watched my Sister’s face fall with the anti-police rhetoric plastered all over social media. How could we come to a place in society where disregarding those risking their lives for us becomes commonplace? How are they now the underdogs fighting to stay alive?

 
William Holmes Walker
I may be blissfully ignorant or just naïve, but I always root for the underdog. Maybe that is why I have always felt a special connection to my early pioneer heritage. It’s partially my love for history and temple work, partially about finding my place in this world. For our Pioneer Trek reenactment as youth, we were asked to choose one of our ancestors to take along the trail with us. As a 14-year-old, I didn’t know very much about this, so I turned to my Mother, as usual. She helped me find and research pioneer ancestors on both sides of my family. I read William Holmes Walker’s journals and I knew he was the ancestor to take with me. Reading his experiences joining the early church, traveling to Missouri, his father being wounded at Hans Mill, and meeting with the Prophet Joseph were all surreal. He said, “In the spring of 1832, my father joined, the Mormons. They, in that day was represented as the lowest and most degraded people on the face of the earth in every point of view.” He sacrificed so much back then so I could have the freedom to practice my religion today. Thank you, William.

I studied his life for weeks and then on our Stake trek, I felt like a real pioneer traveling throughout the mountains, over rocky trails, wishing away my soreness. We sat out in a huge field, separated from each other for an hour to talk to God, write in our journals and organize our thoughts. When I tell you it was incredible, and I still distinctly feel what I experienced that day, it is an understatement. Looking back in my journal, I promised myself that day to prioritize the Lord and His plan for me. Obviously, that hasn’t always happened. I have made more mistakes than I can count, but I do not regret a single thing because I learned a new lesson every time. George Bernhard Shaw said, “A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing.”

Knowing that my own pioneer ancestors were threatened has made me feel sympathy for those African Americans with slavery in America. But it is no excuse for certain African Americans oppressing the police officers, the heroes of our society.  If we could only think about the impact of our actions BEFORE we do something we will regret, we could change history. Let's join the fight to bring peace back to America. Let's stand up for what is right, even if it's hard to. Let's join together to back the blue who are watching our backs. Next time you want to throw things at someone because you do not believe in the same things they do, remember they are human too. They have families, mothers and fathers, children, brothers and sisters, and friends who are all worried about their safety. The underdogs deserve a chance too. 

Image Credit:

Black Police Officer's Perspective

Blue Lives Matter

Pioneer Trek