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philando castile

Castile lives on through this powerful work.

The world watched Philando Castile die, but thanks to the work of a new foundation, his legacy lives on.

On July 6, 2016, 32-year-old Castile was driving with his girlfriend and her 4-year-old daughter when they were pulled over by two St. Anthony, Minnesota, police officers. During what should have been a routine traffic stop, officer Jeronimo Yanez fired seven shots into the car, hitting Castile five times. Castile died soon after at a local emergency room.

What made Castile's death especially shocking was the fact that the incident was caught on camera. Diamond Reynolds, Castile's girlfriend, livestreamed the immediate aftermath. Castile informed Yanez that he had a gun, as is the responsible thing to do in that situation. The officer's response was to begin shouting, accusing Castile of reaching for the gun and firing his weapon. It was a horrible injustice made worse when Yanez was acquitted of charges of manslaughter and reckless discharge of a firearm.

Demonstrators march through St. Paul carrying a photo of Castile shortly after his death. Photo by Stephen Maturen/Getty Images.

Castile worked in the cafeteria at St. Paul's J.J. Hill Montessori Magnet School, where he was beloved by children and colleagues. His death inspired a massive fundraiser for those kids.

A number of J.J. Hill elementary students had accrued thousands of dollars in lunch debt. While some qualified for free lunch, many families had incomes just outside the support cutoff. A new YouCaring campaign, Philando Feeds the Children, is working to wipe that debt clean — and then some.

Thanks to extensive public support, what started as a plan to wipe out lunch debt at J.J. Hill soon became a plan to address lunch debt across each of the 56 public schools in St. Paul. As of this writing, the group has raised more than $153,000.

Protestors at a Dallas rally in support of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile. Photo by Laura Buckman/AFP/Getty Images.

The entire concept of a "lunch debt" is pretty ridiculous, but it's happening all around us.

For many students from low-income families, a school lunch might be the only nourishing meal they get each day. In 2016, writer Ashley Ford offered a suggestion to her Twitter followers, writing, "A cool thing you can do today is try to find out which of your local schools have kids with overdue lunch accounts and pay them off." In the months that followed, people donated thousands of dollars to their local school districts, wiping out balances. It was a powerful show of empathy and humanity for a problem that shouldn't exist.

A related issue is something called "lunch-shaming." In Alabama, one student reported being stamped with the words "I need lunch money." A Utah school collected lunches from 40 students who owed a lunch balance and threw them away in 2014. In 2017, New Mexico passed the "Hunger-Free Students' Bill of Rights," aimed at making it easier for parents, teachers, and students to apply for free and discounted lunch programs while reducing the stigma and shaming.

People protest outside the Minnesota governor's mansion in July 2016. Photo by Stephen Maturen/Getty Images.

To support the Philando Feeds the Children program in St. Paul, Minnesota, visit the campaign's YouCaring page. Additionally, if you're interested in helping out at a local level, GoFundMe has its own curated page of lunch debt elimination campaigns.

On Friday, July 14, demonstrators will march more than 20 miles from the NRA headquarters in Fairfax, Virginia, to the Department of Justice in Washington, D.C.

The organizers behind January's much-lauded Women's March are hosting the peaceful, mass-mobilization effort in response to a dangerous, fear-mongering advertisement created by the NRA. The 60-second video seems to be a thinly veiled call to arms against progressive voices (particularly those protesting President Trump and his ilk) and people of color.

Protests erupted in Minnesota after Officer Jeronimo Yanez was acquitted on all counts in the shooting death of Philando Castile. Photo by Stephen Maturen/Getty Images.

Women of all backgrounds and political beliefs deserve to feel safe in their communities, but instead, many are being bullied into silence.

So until equality and justice prevail, they will march.

A statement from the NRA2DOJ Facebook event laid out the impetus for the mass demonstration.

"Recent actions of the NRA demonstrate not only a disregard for the lives of black and brown people in America, but appear to be a direct endorsement of violence against women, our families and our communities for exercising our constitutional right to protest. On July 14th, Women’s March and partners will mobilize a mass demonstration, again grounded in the principles of Kingian nonviolence, to denounce the false and intimidating rhetoric of hatred and send a clear message that our movement will proudly and bravely continue to strive for the respect of the civil and human rights of all people."

A woman holds up a tapestry that says 'BLACK LIVES MATTER' on the steps of the Minnesota State Capitol building. Photo by Stephen Maturen/Getty Images.

This is much bigger than an inflammatory video. Gun violence is a national issue that puts women at considerable risk.

Piecemeal federal and state-level laws do a poor job of keeping guns out of the hands of convicted domestic abusers and stalkers. Federal laws that prohibit domestic abusers from owning guns don't apply to dating partners or those convicted of misdemeanor-level stalking. And even with federal laws in place, officials often don't have the manpower to enforce these laws at the local level. And the laws mean little when people can buy guns from unlicensed private sellers without a background check.

In more than 50% of mass shootings, the shooter killed a family member or current or former spouse or intimate partner, according to research by Everytown for Gun Safety. In 18% of mass shootings, the shooter had been previously charged with domestic violence. These patterns are too clear to ignore.

[rebelmouse-image 19528706 dam="1" original_size="750x390" caption="Ismaiiyl Brinsley, Robert Lewis Dear, and Esteban Santiago are attackers with a history of domestic violence. Photos via Cobb County Sheriff's Office/Getty Images, Handout/Getty Images, and Handout/Getty Images." expand=1]Ismaiiyl Brinsley, Robert Lewis Dear, and Esteban Santiago are attackers with a history of domestic violence. Photos via Cobb County Sheriff's Office/Getty Images, Handout/Getty Images, and Handout/Getty Images.

Women's March hopes this mass mobilization effort will lead the NRA to take the following actions:

Remove the irresponsible video advertisements from the group's social networks.
Apologize for suggesting, encouraging, or inciting violence against communities of color and people who disagree with the Trump administration.
Release a statement defending Philando Castile's Second Amendment rights. Castile — a black concealed carry permit holder with a registered weapon — was shot and killed by Officer Jeronimo Yanez during a traffic stop. Yanez was recently acquitted of all charges, but the NRA has yet to defend Castile's rights or concealed carry privileges, leaving many to wonder if the advocacy group cares about the rights of people of color.

Given the NRA's apparent attitude toward apologies, these demands are a long shot.

Their initial response to an open letter from Women's March was a video titled, "We Don't Apologize for Telling the Truth."

But, ultimately, nothing can stand in the way of women with passion, political might, and persistence. Absolutely nothing.

Photo by Emma McIntyre/Getty Images.

High school classmates of Philando Castile were gutted last week when the police officer who killed him on the side of a suburban Minnesota street was found not guilty.

Protesters gathered in November outside the St. Paul school where Philando Castile worked. Stephen Maturen/Getty Images.

In the week since, several of them have turned their outrage into action, raising over $5,000 for a scholarship in Castile's name.

"We really didn’t ask for it. People just didn’t know what to do with their grief and all of that," says Abby Heuckendorf, who went to school with Castile from fourth grade on and is a member of Central Honors Philando, the group that established the fund.

Heuckendorf and a half-dozen others who grew up with Castile established the scholarship fund shortly after his death in 2016 at the suggestion of Central High School's principal.

The small team settled on the scholarship as a fitting tribute to the memory of their classmate who continued to work in the school district where they grew up as a much-beloved kitchen employee — known to students as "Phil" — for 14 years.

The money raised in the days following the verdict adds to the over $45,000 that Central Honors Philando has raised in Castile's name since the shooting.

"It still feels like losing somebody in your larger family circle," Heukendorf says.

The first scholarship grant was awarded to Marques Watson-Taylor, a 2017 Central graduate who the group selected based on an application that the committee felt accorded with Castile's background and values.

[rebelmouse-image 19527469 dam="1" original_size="582x422" caption="Philando Castile's mother Valerie, left, and sister Allysza with scholarship recipient Marques Watson-Taylor. Photo by Central Honors Philando/Facebook." expand=1]Philando Castile's mother Valerie, left, and sister Allysza with scholarship recipient Marques Watson-Taylor. Photo by Central Honors Philando/Facebook.

The committee has raised over $45,000 since

The group was planning to kick off a fundraising campaign — culminating in an outdoor community event in August — for next year's award when the verdict came down.

"It was like, 'Oh, we’re back to square one,'" says Adrian Perryman, a member of the fundraising group whose older brother was a classmate of Castile's at Central High School in St. Paul.

"This is a way for people to help out in a sort of different way, to grieve as well as give back."
— Adrian Perryman

After a brief statement on Facebook condemning the verdict, donations to Central Honors Philando began pouring in organically — enough within one week to finance next year's scholarship.

The group still plans to hold the fundraising event in August, which will include food, art projects, and performances in memory of Castile's life.

[rebelmouse-image 19527470 dam="1" original_size="700x467" caption="Attendees at last year's fundraising event listen to a musical performance. Photo by Central Honors Philando/Facebook." expand=1]Attendees at last year's fundraising event listen to a musical performance. Photo by Central Honors Philando/Facebook.

In addition to those events, the group will honor individuals who work behind the scenes to support local schools, inspired by Castile's dedication to the district's students.

All proceeds from the event will support the scholarship, with the goal of helping more Central High students take the next step in their education.

"Not everybody wants to protest," Perryman explains. "Not everybody is able to do certain things. Not everybody can camp out at their elected official's office all week and whatnot, so this is a way for people to help out in a sort of different way, to grieve as well as give back."

Devastated but not defeated by his case's resolution, Castile's neighbors may yet get justice by establishing a small semblance of it for the next generation.

A stranger raised his voice and threw a middle finger her way. Patience Zalanga froze.

This was not the first time someone had reacted violently to her presence. And it likely wouldn't be the last.

Zalanga is a badass photographer.

A black woman and long-term resident of St. Paul, Minnesota, Zalanga recently moved to the St. Louis metro area. But when she heard about the shooting of Philando Castile, she hopped in a car and went back home.

Not just to mourn. Not just to protest. But to stand side by side with her community, and celebrate strength in blackness without apology.

Naturally, she brought her camera, too.

All photos by Patience Zalanga, used with permission.

Zalanga has worked as a photographer for the last four years. But she didn't always use her camera for activism.

"It wasn't until two years ago, when Ferguson happened, that I decided to use my camera for ... purposes other than taking head shots," she said.

Zalanga arrived in Ferguson about a week before the grand jury announced their findings. During that first visit, she said, she was too worried for her safety to bring her camera.

"I was really scared that [the police] would confiscate my camera ..." she explained, "I was really worried ... I would be a target."

Eventually, she returned home to Minnesota. But hours after she got home, the grand jury announced they would not indict Officer Darren Wilson in the shooting death of Michael Brown.

Zalanga and her friends were watching it on the news when they decided they should go back. And this time, Zalanga took her camera, too. She wanted to document the real action — the stuff no one was seeing on the news.

Over time, Zalanga has become bolder and more confident about her storytelling.

She's gone from not bringing her camera at all to standing on the front lines of the action to record history.

"When I take pictures, it's so weird, but white men just have this track record of them getting up in my face and being super bold," Zalanga said. "I'm [5 feet 2 inches] ... and I only have a camera, that's the only weapon I have on me. And yet they feel very, very compelled to intimidate me with their bodies, with their language."

The man you read about at the beginning of this piece got upset when Zalanga started taking pictures at an impromptu demonstration at a hair salon. She says he jumped out of his chair and immediately got in her face.

"In that moment, my heart was racing. Everything went in slow motion," she said.

But while the experience felt lonely, Zalanga wasn't alone.

"All of a sudden, I had 10 black people surrounding me," she says. It was the other demonstrators, standing by her side. As always, her community had her back.

Now, Zalanga sees herself as an activist as well as a photographer.

"When I made the decision to start documenting, at first I was doing it for everyone," she said. "But I feel like through my photography ... my style has somewhat changed, and it's definitely more ... centered on black people."

She often shoots in black and white to draw parallels between the contemporary struggles of black Americans and the civil rights movement of the 1960s.

"For me, it's important to shoot in black and white because it really forces you to pay attention to the subject and what's happening."

The photos here were taken in July 2016 during protests outside the Minnesota Governor's Mansion in St. Paul.

While residents and community members were decidedly heartbroken about the death of Philando Castile — "There was a lot of frustration, a lot of rage, and a lot of anger," Zalanga said — events at the mansion have been altogether peaceful.

And for Zalanga, capturing these moments in the movement is more than a passion or a profession — it's a duty to humankind.

She hopes her work will serve as an archive, capturing not just moments of pain and struggle, but celebration and joy. Through her work, Zalanga says she is signal boosting a narrative we all need to hear.

"That's the main reason why I do what I do," she said. "I'm really curious about what pictures are going to be put in history books," she said.

And we can all do our part to pay attention, really listen, and share the stories and images coming out of places where this movement is taking shape every day. History is happening right this minute, and we can all do our part to ensure traditionally underrepresented voices are at the center of it.

A group of NBA players opened the ESPYs with a bold statement about violence.

They called on athletes to use their voices to bring attention to violence.

Professional athletes hold a unique position within our culture.

Their job, in its most basic sense, is to be really, really good at a game. For this, top players make tens if not hundreds of millions of dollars. Sounds pretty good, right? They're also idolized by men, women, and children around the world, giving them another form of currency at their disposal: influence.

Fans swarm Washington Nationals outfielder Bryce Harper for autographs before a game against the Pittsburgh Pirates on July 24, 2015. Photo by Justin K. Aller/Getty Images.

For a long time, athletes were loath to use that influence when it came to anything even remotely political for fear of losing endorsement deals.

In the early '90s, the Democratic Party asked NBA superstar Michael Jordan to to support former Charlotte, North Carolina, Mayor Harvey Gantt in his bid to unseat Sen. Jesse Helms. At the time, Helms was one of the loudest voices in opposition to the proposal of making Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday a national holiday and had a knack for antagonizing black members of Congress by singing "Dixie," a song about longing for the days of slavery, in elevators.

Sounds like a no-brainer, right? Wrong. Jordan, who attended the University of North Carolina, decided not to show support behind Gantt. His reason? "Republicans buy shoes, too."

Jordan wears a pair of his Nike Air Jordan sneakers before a 1995 game against the Orlando Magic. Photo by Allsport USA/Allsport.

This isn't to say all athletes are apolitical in their public appearance. One of the most famous athletes of all time, Muhammad Ali, bucked that trend. For example, Ali protested the Vietnam War by refusing to join after being drafted.

But with an increased focus on police brutality, some stars are becoming more willing to use their social currency to raise awareness.

After the death of Eric Garner, a black man who died in a chokehold performed by a New York City police officer, a number of NBA players wore shirts reading "I Can't Breathe," which were Garner's final words.

LeBron James of the Cleveland Cavaliers wears an "I Can't Breathe" shirt during warmups before his game against the Brooklyn Nets on Dec. 8, 2014. Photo by Al Bello/Getty Images.

Following the shooting of Michael Brown in nearby Ferguson, Missouri, St. Louis Rams stars Tavon Austin, Jared Cook, and Chris Givens entered their Nov. 30, 2014, game against the Oakland Raiders doing a "hands up, don't shoot" pose.

Photo by Dilip Vishwanat/Getty Images.

The WNBA's Minnesota Lynx donned practice shirts honoring the lives of Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, and the five police officers killed in Dallas.

On July 13, 2016, four of the NBA's top players — LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, Carmelo Anthony, and Chris Paul — opened the annual ESPYs award show by calling on their fellow athletes to take action.

“The events of the past week have put a spotlight on the injustice, distrust, and anger that plague so many of us,” Anthony said in reference to the killings of Sterling, Castile, and the Dallas police officers. “The problems are not new, the violence is not new, and the racial divide definitely is not new. But the urgency to create change is at an all-time high.”

“Enough is enough,” Wade added. “Now, as athletes, it is on us to challenge each other to do even more than we already do in our own communities. And the conversation cannot — it cannot — stop as our schedules get busy again. It won’t always be convenient. It won’t. It won’t always be comfortable, but it is necessary.”

NBA players (left to right) Carmelo Anthony, Chris Paul, Dwyane Wade, and LeBron James speak during the 2016 ESPYs. Photo by Kevin Winter/Getty Images.

That same day, Anthony penned an opinion piece at The Guardian titled "We athletes can no longer remain on the sidelines in the struggle for justice."

Why is it important for high-profile athletes to take up the cause? Because they have the power to keep the conversation going.

"What we can do is start [to] bring a continuous awareness and keep this conversation going," Anthony writes. "We can’t keep riding on this merry-go-round where tragedy happens, it’s all over TV and social media, everybody talks about it, then in three and four days it’s over with."

As for the rest of us — those of us who aren't professional athletes — we can help, too.

While it certainly helps to have millions of adoring fans hanging on your every word, most of us don't have that — and that's OK. What we can do is just as important. We, too, can refuse to let these instances of tragedy be forgotten. We, too, can use social media to keep this conversation front-of-mind among our friends and family. We, too, can fight for a world where black men aren't gunned down by police officers and police officers aren't gunned down by a sniper. The world, as it is, is only temporary. It's what we do next that really matters.

The subject of police violence is rocking America once again.

Along with the headlines, along with the confusion, anger, and sadness that comes with another set of violent tragedies comes a lot of numbers: the number of people killed by police, how many of them were unarmed, how many were resisting arrest, how many were black.

But what about their names? The names of these victims can all too easily fade into a blur of statistics, data, and cold facts. But these are people, not numbers, and their lives shouldn't be reduced to the worst thing that ever happened to them.

We shouldn't forget the names. Behind those names were real people. None of them were perfect, and some were deeply troubled, but they were human beings with ambitions, families, quirks, passions, and personality — and that's how their communities and loved ones will always remember them.

If you're feeling lost, here are 11 names we shouldn't forget, all from the first half of 2016:

1. Philando Castile, 34. Killed in Falcon Heights, Minnesota, on July 6.

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2. Alton Sterling, 37. Killed in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, on July 5.

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3. Jay Anderson, 25. Killed in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin, on June 23.

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4. Ollie Lee Brooks, 64. Killed in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on May 28.

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5. Michael Moore, 19. Killed in Mobile, Alabama, on June 13.

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6. Michael Eugene Wilson, 27. Killed in South Florida on May 22.

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7. Lionel Gibson, 21. Killed in Long Beach, California, on May 8.

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8. Kimani Johnson, 18. Killed in Baltimore on April 1.

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9. Jessica Nelson Williams, 29. Killed in San Fransisco on May 19.

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10. Peter Gaines, 35. Killed in Houston on March 12.

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11. David Joseph, 17. Killed in Austin, Texas, on Feb. 8.

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These 11 people make up a small fraction of the police violence in America that overwhelmingly affects black men.

For more information on these incidents, as well as the hundreds of other incidents of police violence that have occurred this year, visit this online database from the Washington Post.