Unpacking a Black Lives Matter Protest in a very Small Missouri Town
A 22-Year-Old Kindergarten Teacher Plans a Black Lives Matter Protest in the Most Unlikely of Places Despite Death Threats and Online Harassment...from Her Mayor
The history of Missouri’s Bootheel is tied up with the Louisiana Purchase. Its past includes a deeply segregationist culture as well as economic devastation from the Great Migration. Its present boasts native son, conservative shock jock Rush Limbaugh. The region is home to Limbaugh’s hometown, Cape Girardeau, the same location where Donald Trump made a now (regionally) famous campaign stumping appearance for then-candidate, and now U.S. Senator, Josh Hawley.
The Bootheel is decidedly southern in culture and Trump-ist in nature. It is the last place you’d expect to see a Black Lives Matter march. But, when Minneapolis police murdered George Floyd, even Cape stood up with its own march in late May. Not two weeks later, locals organized a children’s march for Black Lives. In a state like Missouri and in a region like that, those types of events are headline-grabbing for a reason.
In early July, retired St. Louis journalist Charles Jaco started posting about a young teacher in the Bootheel, in a town called Van Buren (which neighbors Cape), when she announced on Facebook that she was considering doing “something like that” in her town.
Jaco, ever the journalist, got busy posting about the somewhat horrifying harassment that ensued. Horrifying, but certainly at least expected by many of us who are familiar with the nature of social media and the deep and untouched pockets of racism in Missouri.
Exchange between a Southwestern, MO activist and Mayor of Van Buren, MO, Mike Hoerner.
What is particularly galling about the harassment that Abby received was that it was spearheaded by Van Buren’s Mayor, Mike Hoerner.
Jaco kept posting and I kept reading about the young teacher who would go ahead with her bake sale. About two weeks after her demonstration, I reached out to her and she agreed to speak with me.
From Student to Activist to Teacher
Van Winkle’s official fundraiser announcement for the BLM demonstration and fundraiser for the NAACP Legal Defense & Education Fund
When I first heard her voice on our call in late July, I was instantly reminded that she is, indeed, young. She sounded initially halting, even nervous, something I can’t quite blame her for when she became the center of a controversy that she never consciously courted.
Abby told me about her concerns that the controversy detracted from the message.
“I never thought that it was going to turn into the Abby Van Winkle show which is what it’s turned into. That was never what I wanted. But now that it has been, I totally want to use my voice to help.”
We talk a little bit about Van Buren, which has a population of about 800 and is close enough to Southeast Missouri State University (SEMO) that she regularly visited home when she was a student there (she graduated this spring).
Abby lived in Van Buren her entire life until she left to go to college at SEMO. Her entire family--mom, dad, extended family, childhood friends--live there. When we spoke, she was in the midst of teaching a summer reading program for her third year in a row. She’s very much “attached” to Van Buren and considers it to be her home. (She’s now teaching in closeby Puxico.)
I bring up these details because her harassers online were quick to accuse her of being an “outsider” when she announced her protest, someone who wasn’t a real citizen of Van Buren,. That “outsider” comment clearly was still not sitting right with her. “As soon as I had proposed this idea, I was no longer a local. I was a “former resident” is how they referred to me.”
A Van Buren Local shares his thoughts about a local demonstration (screen shot courtesy of Charles Jaco)
Abby, now 22, self-describes as liberal and open-minded. She never really felt like she could be open about her views with anyone but her parents until she got to college. Her dad, she said, leans more towards conservative on some issues, but is, according to his daughter, a very “liberal guy”. He is the owner/editor of Van Buren’s local newspaper and is also a licensed professional counselor. Her mother has been a teacher and high school guidance counselor for her entire career.
Van Winkle started college in the fall of 2016, squarely situated in Trump’s America. She attended her very first protest right after the election in front of the library on the SEMO campus. Passing by, she saw signs that read “Where’s the Love?” and “What Happened to the Melting Pot?” and immediately recognized a friend.
“It was really cool and I think that’s what first sparked ‘Hey...I can do stuff like this.’” That particular rally was, as she says, “the first time that I ever did anything like that.”
When she first got to college, according to her, there was still talk about the 2014 “riots” in Ferguson but it wasn’t a central issue in student culture. “I feel like...it feels like it’s a 50/50 on campus of people who wanted and supported Trump and people who were totally against the thought of that, which surprised me. I thought that I went to college, I thought I’d meet more open-minded people, which I did. But, Missouri is still very conservative, and so even the university, I still feel like some of the students are very conservative.”
Abby focused on other issues while she was enrolled at SEMO, so her activism took a big hiatus during that time.
“There wasn’t really room for extra things and extra stress.”
I asked: Had she ever seen a protest in Van Buren against anything? She said simply “no.”
“The opposers on this issue were calling themselves the patriots, which I found really ironic.”
She was a freshman in high school during the Ferguson uprisings. I told her about my going to college and living in Los Angeles and witnessing the Rodney King police beating. In that moment, we became two generations joined by events that were distanced by time, but not by culture.
We talked about her being a 14-year-old girl in rural Missouri and how she filtered the story of the death of Michael Brown.
“My sister was going to Washington University in St. Louis so we were very much keeping up with what was going on. During one of her finals weeks, some protests came into the library where people were studying. My first thought was, “well, that’s rude, people were trying to study.’”
Van Buren Mayor Mike Horner (RE: Van Winkle’s demonstration)
Abby’s best friend’s father in high school was a highway patrolman who was sent to Ferguson, and her friend was torn and sick with fear. They were told it was a war zone. The police officers, they were also told, were like soldiers, and the “rioters” were doing a bad thing. She never once thought about why or what caused them to “act out like that.”
A person she describes as a mentor--someone Abby looked up to and admired--said that the protesters were “just being a bunch of stupid N-words”, and it was then that Abby said she felt she was going to vomit. What she describes sounds like a sense of betrayal. Still, it was a moment of awakening about racism.
“Oh my god...that’s why they’re doing it. It was that word. That’s why.”
At the time, she told me that she was genuinely fearful that a mob might slowly make their way to her sister’s St. Louis campus. She was afraid for her sibling’s life and safety.
“I remember talking to her about it and she was like “Oh, Abby, no!” And she said something about “I understand why...think about it.” And hearing her say “you have to think about why,” really kind of opened my eyes. She said, ‘I understand.’”
Her sister is now a dentist during an internship at an oral surgery office. Not exactly the poster child for the far left, in other words.
“I wanted to show that not all small towns are full of racists. It embarrassed me.”
I asked her if there were people in her community saying “We need a voice?” and if so, did that inspired her to plan the demonstration. She referenced the May protest in Cape. “I actually came to a protest in Cape and that was beautiful and amazing.”
By her recollection (she and her friends got there early, and left to avoid the heat), 90% of the cars were passing and honking in solidarity, showing support, the police roped off and closed down part of the road and marched with the protesters. The positivity stuck with her.
The next weekend, she was at a flea market with her family and saw what was happening in Eminence. She knew of locals who were caught up by some gaslighting by the local sheriff and saw sentiments online that shocked her.
“Seeing the support for that [gaslighting] in my hometown broke my heart. “You guys don’t get it.” It was then that I was like, “we need to share some information.” I wanted to show that not all small towns are full of racists. It embarrassed me. I’m from Van Buren. Oh, you mean that place where all the people showed up with guns and Trump stuff? I know there are like-minded people in my small town who constantly feel like they have to just look the other way and hold their tongues because they don’t want to ruin their relationships. It just came down to “so what?” So what if we make people mad. So what if we make people uncomfortable. It’s good to be uncomfortable. That’s how you grow. Why not show that Van Buren stands with those who are hurting?”
Then Came the Threats
“I knew I’d be met with some resistance...I was hoping that people would disagree behind our backs and that would be it. I had no idea that my life would be threatened.”
We then started talking about the mayor.
“I made this very first post to show the world that just because we’re from a small town doesn’t mean that we have small minds or small hearts. I made that late one night and the next morning I woke up to a screenshot from a girl that I graduated with that one of the business owners had made a post about me, about how stupid I was. It was a very childish post.” She said this person is probably in his 40s, old enough to be her father.
“He was calling me out for being stupid and then the mayor commented that he wasn’t going to ‘have this’ in Van Buren. He assured me that this wasn’t going to happen, that we weren’t going to have any of ‘this B.S. in our town.’ If you want to do that, then you can just bring ‘those people’ to your house and they can just destroy your house and see how your parents like it.”
Other members of the business community harassed her online. Some of the people she knew. Again, this is when all she’s done by this point is the initial post (shared above); she hadn’t even announced a time or a date yet.
When she told the mayor that he couldn’t stop her because it’s her first amendment right, she unwittingly lit a fuse. “I think that’s what really got them.”
I asked her if that was intimidating.
“To me, more than anything, it was absurd. I had always respected the mayor. One thing I didn’t like was that people were making fun of his writing, his grammar, and spelling, and stuff. That turned into bullying him over that, and I didn’t like that. That was not the problem. The problem was that an elected official was trying to control speech. It had nothing to do with his education level or whatever you want to call that. And bullying someone over that is not [going] to help them see this as a positive. So, I didn’t like that that happened, but it just blew up from there.”
Her life started to turn into a war of cyberbullying and planning.
“The next week, I was glued to Facebook because I was getting message requests. There were all these comments. I was getting phone calls from like-[minded] people who were worried about me. One lady who I met through this said it in the most perfect way, which is ‘The hundred loudest people in Van Buren spoke up against it.’ And basically, that’s what it was. These white men who own businesses and are bullies--and are sexist, obviously--they tried to use fear to control me. And, I think they got more angry whenever that didn’t work.”
This was the two weeks leading up to the July 11th demonstration. She would also use the event to raise funds for the NAACP Legal Defense Fund.
How influential were the haters?
“The thing about Van Buren, it’s a bubble. People don’t leave. They truly don’t understand what’s going on. They hear “Black Lives Matter” and they think ‘burning a city down’. And so I think--like how our president plays on fear to get support from people--I feel like that’s kind of what they were doing.”
What kind of businesses do these people who were verbally abusing her on Facebook own?
“Insurance companies, one guy owns a snow cone business I think...I wouldn’t say they’re extremely wealthy people. The mayor owns a towing business.”
I commended her about commenting on how we need to stop making fun of people’s lack of education. (Abby is clearly massively empathetic.) I wanted to know more about the people who supported her--who were the people who were supporting her on this initial thread BEFORE she announced the action itself.
“Some people who I went to high school with immediately showed support of the idea.” She talks about locals who had moved away who wanted to donate to help. A lot of support came from people who had gotten out of Van Buren “because of the environment.” She was commended by those people who were thrilled to see someone taking a stand in a place where they felt like they had no choice but to leave.
“The biggest support came from my parents.” She was worried their concern for her safety would overshadow her passion for change. That, she assured me, absolutely, did not happen. “I’ve always been a family person and I’ve always had such a good relationship with my parents, but this has strengthened it even more because this has shown me that they have my back no matter what. I know it was extremely hard for them to see their daughter have her life threatened.”
Abby sounds remarkably calm and clear when she starts to explain just how she indirectly learned that someone threatened to shoot her online.
“We were alerted [about the death threat] from something that I hadn’t posted. This was everywhere. And a guy who lives in Van Buren, who does not support Black Lives Matter but knows who I am and supports me and has respect for me and for my parents, he went into her father’s office and said: “Hey, I saw this and I’ve already reported it, but I thought you should know.”
The weekend before the protest, on a thread that included her picture, underneath it, someone commented: “Here’s the idiot SJW who is starting shit and this guy had commented on it ‘Shoot this bitch.’
Her father jumped into gear, and they alerted the local authorities. She tells me law enforcement was “amazing,” and her experience in dealing with them taught her how professional they are. She wanted to make sure she was following all of the guidelines and that “it was completely and totally legal.”
She felt like she had an obligation and a responsibility to plan an action that was extremely positive and wasn’t necessarily rooted in disruption, going so far as to contextualize the language of the protest to calm local nerves. “I wanted to clear up some misconceptions that people have about this movement, and so what we were wanting to do was keep it local. I had lots of people from Cape who offered to gather people, but I wanted to keep it local.”
“We went from calling it a protest to calling it a demonstration to calling it a rally because we were trying to be very compassionate to people who truly are scared and don’t understand and be cognizant of that.”
I asked her if she was resentful that she had to water down her message so much, that she had to be so self-conscious about the very messaging when these kinds of actions and protests are increasingly commonplace in larger metro areas.
“It was more like ‘I am going to do whatever I need to do to make this work’.”
She recalls a conversation with another mentor. This person counseled Abby against even using the phrase “Black Lives Matter” in association with the event. “I remember telling her “we’re already not calling it a protest! By the way, a protest is completely legal and it’s different than a riot.” But I had said “I’m sorry but I can’t do that. That’s what this is about. It’s about clearing up what does “Black Lives Matter” mean?”
“It was better than I ever could have hoped for.”
The protest was held in front of city halls so they didn't have to close the streets. They were originally going to do it at the courthouse, but local law enforcement asked them to gather in front of the city hall because it would be easier to protect the protesters.
She worked very closely with the police chief, who asked her to file an ex parte order against the person who threatened her. If that guy came within three miles of her, the cops could have arrested him. They were aware that there were going to be counter-protesters. (Law enforcement created a space for the counter-protesters to encourage dialogue but prevent violence.)
“What it turned into was that everyone went down to the courthouse to “protect” the World War One memorial there and have a Trump parade.”
Her group of about 40 was hyper local. She did not want a lot of people coming in from out of town. Instead, she asked that locals create a local experience to represent their town and their own voices. The attendees included a very small minority community in Van Buren, and one young man from Elsinore came. Per Abby, some Black folks from Poplar Bluffs came (these are all very much adjoining towns), as well as people from the LGBT community who aren’t necessarily open.
Abby wanted this action to be an opportunity for widespread inclusion. One of the protesters told Abby that they have to hide their identity from their family every day because they would be disowned. “That’s part of this movement, too.”
When it came to the actual gathering itself, Abby puts it simply: “It was better than I ever could have hoped for, honestly.”
“I met some really amazing people. I met some fellow teachers.” She met someone affiliated with local Cape activist (and legit local hero) Renita Green and admits that alone made her a little starstruck.
We talked a little bit about the vociferous counter-protesters.
“I rode in with my parents and my dad escorted us out of town as soon as possible,” and they decided it was best to avoid the shenanigans at the courthouse. “There were definitely more of them than us. I heard that it was pretty crazy as far as the number of people and that it was a big Trump-fest.”
Her parents were understandably distracted with issues related to Abby’s safety. As someone significantly older than she is--and likely close to her parents’ ages--I felt compelled to apologize, too, to say to this young activist how sorry I was that she had to go through that. All she did was gather on a sidewalk with less than 50 people, scratching at the very surface of activism (something she is absolutely in agreement with). For this, she was harassed by the city’s most powerful elected official. For this her life was threatened.
Re: passers by? “I was very surprised. I would say it was probably like 60% of people who went by waved or gave a thumbs up and that was insane to me. It showed me that there were people who wouldn’t necessarily say anything but that were still like-minded and that really gave me hope.”
Were there haters? Yes. But there was a narrow majority of people who drove by who signaled their support of the rally. “I honestly think that the opposers were disappointed that they were not given an opportunity to ‘protect’ their community.”
“Do it Anyway.”
After spending two weeks of her life being equally harassed and supported: How did she feel while it was going on?
“The night before, I could not sleep. The morning of, I was super shaky and just so, so nervous. But as soon as we got there and people showed up to help set up, it was just this very peaceful atmosphere. I felt so happy and excited. It was like “wow this is really happening.”
I told her that it sounds like she had fun.
“It was! It wasn’t supposed to be fun, that’s not what I was concerned about, but it did. It ended up being fun.”
I have to ask her: how would she suggest someone else do this? What would you say, I asked her, to another Abby somewhere else who doesn’t have the support of their family who has a burning desire to use their body and their privilege to signal that change has to happen?
“Do it anyway. Do it anyway. Because something that I have found with this--even though I had people calling for my head--was that I was happier with myself, I was happier with my life. Because it really honestly ignites something inside of you whenever you do something. You don't just talk about something. We can talk and talk and talk like “I support this,” but whenever you really DO something...this gave me a new purpose. I’ve lost friends over this, but I have gained so many people and, honestly, I have found out who I am and I have gained a new respect for myself that I didn’t have before. I feel like I have more control of my life now. To that ‘Abby’--even if you don’t have the support of your family--do it anyway because there are people who support you and you owe it to yourself.”
“I feel like one of the most important things we can do is not back down.”
She disclosed to me a very personal story about the loss of those friendships. For a young woman of her age, those losses are deep, real, and serious. Her speaking out caused fissures that she will likely feel for some time to come, and likely can’t be repaired. Her action gave her the strength to confront these people about their own racism, especially people who didn’t support Abby when she was being harassed online. From my vantage (and I won’t disclose anything else because she asked me not to), the way Abby stood up for herself and defended her actions to these people took courage and clarity that I personally question whether I would have had at 22.
Instead, Abby turned that focus towards people who did support her and is celebrating the gain of new friendships rather than focusing on the losses. (Her wisdom and strength are, frankly, stunning.) Abby feels the wisdom, alliances, friendships, and experiences she’s gained are far more valuable than anything that she’s lost.
I mentioned the HBO Show “We’re Here” as an example of how we can reclaim small towns and make them safer and more inclusive and intersectional for all types of people. My exact question: “What can we do to convert American spaces so that people no longer feel they HAVE to leave? How do we reclaim these spaces?”
Her answer: “I feel like one of the most important things we can do is not back down. I mean, at first, I was thinking, “Do I want to teach in Puxico? Yeah, I do.” She sees her role as being an encouraging and supportive mentor and advocate for children in her community.
“Having my little kindergartners and loving each of them for who they are and helping them know that they can be who they are, and teaching them compassion, and all of these things that we need...that's how you make a change. If we all just pack up and move to bigger cities where we feel more accepted then basically, I feel like that’s just giving up.”
She mentioned a fellow protester who she went to high school with, a young man, who had recently “moved to California because he’s openly gay.”
She’s quick to clarify that leaving is not a form of cowardice. There are, we both agree, people who are not safe in real ways in many of these towns across the U.S. We spend a few minutes discussing the tragedy of that, of feeling forced to leave a place because it isn’t safe to stay. For her, that should not be the only option. People need to have the resources and support necessary so they can choose to stay and fight.
“But, for those of us who can, who feel comfortable enough to stay, I feel like we have to, because, that is how we’re going to...I don’t want to say “reclaim” because that makes it sound like these are the enemies, and they’re not. These people who are on the opposing side, no matter how hateful they are, no matter how ugly they get...we still have to love them and try to understand them, and you know the whole, putting people down. It’s on both sides. I’m not saying that you do what I was doing and you keep your mouth closed when someone says the “n” word around you. No. You call them out for it. But you STAY. Instead of you[r] feeling uncomfortable, you feel comfortable and confident in the fact that you know what’s right. And you find comfort in the fact that you’re not doing anything wrong.”
My last question was directed to those Americans who feel helpless and who don’t know what to do. For people who live in major cities and who resonate with young change agents in rural towns, what can they do from their position to help?
“I feel like something anyone can do no matter where you are is just have those conversations with people.” No, she does not mean yelling at people on social media. She means direct conversations. She means listening.
She said that many of her father’s friends came into his office and he was able to not “convert” them but did clear up misunderstandings.
“One of the reasons that I say that our protest was successful was not how many people were there, was not how much money we made for the NAACP, but the conversations that we made people in the town have. So, no matter where you are, if you can make people have those conversations…’I’m going to listen to you, you’re going to listen to me’. And they’re not always pretty. I’ve had some very not pretty conversations with people. But it really plants that seed. And so no matter where you are, if you have those conversations, if you, if you plant that seed...it’s just going to grow.”
I end by asking her if there’s anything else that we’ve left unsaid.
“The support has definitely overshadowed the ugliness and I’m really truly blessed for that.
“I don’t know that I’ll be organizing another thing like this in Van Buren, but I’ve definitely [awokened] a part of me that I’ve always had but I haven’t really acted on. I want to be more involved even in politics.”
Her dad is supportive of this, clarifying that we need “the best of us” to become politicians. She is going to help with Renita Green’s campaign in Cape.
Her dad is right. We need young activists who represent the next wave of intersectionality and acceptance to advocate for their communities. Local communities deserve diversity, dynamism, and talent. If Abby is an example of the future, if she is an example of the best of us, then let’s listen to her. Stay and fight. Do it anyway. Have the conversations. Listen. Don’t give up.