Backward and forward, through heat and rain and dirt, he marched.
He kept the others safe, kept the momentum going.
He shouted himself hoarse.
Kali Robinson, 21, a member of the Amherst College chapter of Black Lives Matter, led a small group of protesters Friday evening in a trek from Hadley to Northampton. Armed with cardboard signs, the group — white and Asian college students, two young black men and white parents with their two black boys — marched to combat racism and police brutality. Their number grew to 20 by the time they reached City Hall in Northampton.
From the moment they left Hopkins Academy in Hadley, Robinson was chanting. As they trudged through the chaotic construction on Route 9, they walked in step with the leader’s steady voice.
Robinson skirted the sidewalk, past traffic cones and debris, reading from a list of names: Nathaniel Pickett. Alonzo Smith. Wayne Wheeler.
“These people were struck by police vehicles, shot by police guns, stunned with stun guns,” Robinson shouted. “All they have in common is that no one was held accountable for their deaths.”
Cars sped by, many honking in solidarity. Drivers rolled down their windows and gave the thumbs-up.
Marchers echoed Robinson’s chants, which they’d rehearsed in the parking lot before they began.
“No justice, no peace. No racist police!”
The worst part is the fear, Robinson said.
As a young black man, he fears for himself and for his family. He has nightmares about his brother being killed by gangs and his mother and sister being taken away.
He’s accustomed to being profiled — stopped for no reason at night with his friends by officers circling in unmarked cars — but said he’s often treated differently when they find out he’s a student at Amherst College.
“I’ve had negative interactions with the police myself,” Robinson said. “But it’s funny how it changes when they see I go to Amherst. Class and privilege shield you.”
A group of female black friends helped involve Robinson in Black Lives Matter, which is important to him. Black women, he said, are often overlooked in the movement.
“We forget how much black women have always been a part of protecting black people,” Robinson said.
Robinson’s own motivation is also a simple, protective instinct.
“I just don’t want any more black people to die like this.”
The slate-colored clouds began to spit as the marchers approached the Calvin Coolidge Bridge.
“Hands up, don’t shoot,” they shouted, again and again.
They raised their hands above their heads as the rain pelted them.
A man raced past in an SUV, flipping the group the bird out the window.
“F all of you,” he called.
One of the little boys began to cry, clinging to his father.
“Did he scare you?” the man asked as he clutched his son.
“That guy was a jerk,” the older boy consoled his brother as he wept.
They pushed onward, past houses with rusty bikes in the front yard. Robinson floated back and forth, offering water and monitoring crossing points.
“Justice first, safety second,” someone joked.
Between the marching and the chanting, Robinson thought about the lack of black presence in the protest.
“It’s something I’ve seen a lot of around Amherst,” Robinson said. “Support from allies is always good but it’s disappointing not to have that black space you’re looking for.”
He thought about how he was carrying the group, how it was his job to be their voice.
As they entered Northampton, approaching City Hall — as they will again on Saturday and Sunday evenings — Robinson urged them to be as loud as they could.
They strained their voices, competing with music from the bars, restaurants and a concert on the courthouse lawn.
“BLACK LIVES MATTER! BLACK LIVES MATTER!”
A black man outside a bar scoffed while he smoked a cigarette.
“What about all lives?” The man shouted back.
Robinson repeated the same bit he’d said all night, a civil answer to an uncivil action.
“Some people, when they hear black lives matter, feel the need to respond by saying ‘All lives matter.’ We know all lives matter!”
He walked backward on the crowded sidewalk, voice trembling.
“But there are those who think black lives are a joke. And to that I say:”
Twenty other voices rose to join him, making heads turn throughout the square.
“BLACK LIVES MATTER.”