United States of America eSeries: This is America: One year later. Where's the change?

USA TODAY: Reflecting on what has changed since George Floyd's murder

Tuesday, May 25

A makeshift memorial for George Floyd including a mural cards and flowers on June 1, 2020 his seen near the spot where he died while in police custody in Minneapolis, Minn.

Reflecting on what has changed since George Floyd's murder

On the first anniversary of George Floyd's murder, the nation is reflecting on what's changed for people of color in the last year.

OPINION

It's been a year since I first learned the name George Floyd.

Like the rest of the world, I watched his final moments in abject horror. As people chanted his last words during mass protests, I became a race and diversity reporter here at USA TODAY. I watched the video over and over again as I covered the trial of Derek Chauvin, who was convicted of murder last month.

Activists and journalists have called this past year a racial reckoning, our Selma moment.

I learned on Thursday that the theme of the Floyd family's events celebrating his life and legacy is "One Year, What's Changed?" For some people, especially young people of color like myself, it feels like the answer is "not much."

The deaths of Black and brown folks at the hands of police are still regularly making headlines. As the country begins to emerge from the pandemic which is still disproportionately impacting people of color, I don't really feel safer stepping back into the world.

I'm N'dea Yancey-Bragg and you're reading "This is America," a newsletter centered on race, identity and how they shape our lives.

But first, race and justice news we're watching

•	Ronald Greene was shackled, ordered facedown by Louisiana troopers in deadly arrest, new body cam video shows
•	One year after George Floyd's death, two-thirds of workers want their companies to speak out against racism
•	107 years old and asking Congress for justice: Tulsa race massacre survivors testify
•	A teacher hangs a BLM flag at a school named for a Confederate general. Now she's under investigation.
•	George Floyd's murder generated tears, outrage, commitment — and lots of soulful art
•	'A public lynching': Bernice King, Keisha Lance Bottoms, Nick Cannon, Julian Castro and other Americans reflect on George Floyd's murder
•	'On our own terms': How scholars of color are correcting the narrative of national tragedies
•	After George Floyd, other American families whose loved ones were killed by police battle for justice

If you feel like nothing has changed, you're not totally wrong

Floyd's death launched unprecedented support for the Black Lives Matter movement. Some of that support is already slipping away.

Black Americans and white Americans now express very different views than they did a year ago: 75% of Black people express trust in Black Lives Matter compared to just 42% of white people. The Black Lives Matter organization is facing scrutiny over its leadership, lack of financial transparency and even resentment from families who feel left out.

The divide on policing is widening too: 77% of white people but just 42% of Black people trust local police.

Although some cities have banned police chokeholds and no-knock warrants or reduced police budgets, it still feels like every day my colleagues and I are reporting about a Black person who has been killed or mistreated by police. Police officers have killed hundreds of Americans since Floyd was killed and the victim's families are still fighting for justice.

Meanwhile, the city of Minneapolis, where Floyd took his last breath, still hasn't explained why their officers broke the rules and fired on nonviolent protesters last year or identified any officers who were disciplined. And the country is still waiting to see if Congress will pass the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act.

Black Americans have had plenty of 'George Floyd' moments

Maybe another reason it feels like nothing has changed is because this is not our country's first "racial reckoning."

I was first learning to drive (and first learning to worry about what could happen to me if I was pulled over) when 17-year-old Trayvon Martin was shot and killed in 2012. Two years later, Michael Brown , 18, was killed and protests erupted in Ferguson, MO. I had just graduated high school. So had he.

For the first anniversary of Floyd's death, I worked with two of my incredibly talented colleagues, Christine Fernando and Deborah Berry, on a story that highlighted other moments like the death of Martin and Brown that reminded Black Americans how vulnerable we are.

Deborah said the story idea was inspired by her conversations with civil rights leaders over the years who talked about how pivotal the death of Emmett Till was for them. The question we posed to people across the country was simple, "What was your George Floyd moment?"

I posed the same question to Deb. For her, it was the 1997 assault of Abner Louima, a Haitian immigrant in her hometown of Brooklyn.

"I couldn't understand the brutality of it. I couldn't grasp what could make you hate someone that much. I still can't. It still makes me cringe. It still makes me angry," she told me. "There have been many other moments since then, but that one will always remind me of how much hate still exist, particularly for people of color."

Christine, who has done excellent reporting from Chicago on the death of Adam Toledo, perfectly captured what's so heartbreaking about the answers we heard:

"Every time I speak with someone about their "George Floyd" moment, what breaks my heart is how young they are when it comes," she told me. "And it makes me realize my own privilege. As a Sri Lankan American woman, racism has affected me throughout my life and made lasting, painful marks on my childhood. But while I don't want to minimize my own experiences and those of my community, for me personally, the racism I faced early on didn't feel as visceral, as hinged on something as simple as survival."

When I tried to think of my own "George Floyd moment," I thought about what Nicholas Gibbs told me when I interviewed him for our story. Although he cited the Rodney King riots as a formative memory, Nicholas said it's not really about one moment, it's "more like a slow burn." A series of little moments and messages quietly communicate to you over the years that your life doesn't matter and that's not likely to change anytime soon.

"It's like a leaky faucet," he explained. "Like a slow drip and then all of a sudden you look up and your sink is full."

That's exactly how I feel. Like I'm only 24 and I'm somehow already exhausted from the myriad of ways people of color experience systemic racism. I can only imagine how tired the people who have been fighting for change longer than I've been alive must be.

For many of us, Floyd's death is not the first moment of this kind and it's certainly not going to be the last. Today, I plan to take some time to remember the man behind the movement and try to stay optimistic that change is going to come in part because of him.

This is America is a weekly take on current events from a rotating panel of USA TODAY Network journalists with diverse backgrounds and viewpoints. If you're seeing this newsletter online or someone forwarded it to you, you can subscribe here. If you have feedback for us, we'd love for you to drop it here.