Despite arrest threat from council member, dozens in Philipsburg gather at Black Lives Matter rally
Mary Betts, 21, admitted she felt anxious ahead of Sunday’s Black Lives Matter rally in Philipsburg.
As one of the organizers, she wasn’t sure how to react when council member Sharon Goss told them Friday via social media — “incorrectly,” borough manager Joel Watson added — that they couldn’t meet at the “private” playground near Cold Stream Dam. If they did, Goss told them, according to messages obtained by the Centre Daily Times, they would be arrested for criminal trespass.
But Betts soon learned the playground was public, and the First Amendment protects their right to protest. So they trudged on, as dozens of BLM supporters joined them Sunday near the white fence by Route 322 to peacefully chant, cheer and hold up signs to passing traffic.
“I’m doing this for my black friends in the community, my sister and people I know who come here and who feel the stares and the negative comments under people’s breath,” Betts said. “I want to be able to come back here and feel like I can be in a community that’s inclusive and accepting and loving, and there are a lot of people that are coming out here today to show we can do that.
“But we need to be louder than the hate.”
Betts was joined by fellow organizers Bailey Keith, 22, and Meghan Zelensky, 21 — who graduated from Philipsburg-Osceola and West Branch, respectively. They led chants like, “2-4-6-8. Stop the violence; stop the hate!” And they smiled every time a passing motorist honked in support, from reading signs like, “When hate is loud, love must not be silent” and “End generational racism.”
The protest met some criticism in the community, and rumors spread that busloads of Philadelphia residents might be driven up to the small town that is 98.65% white, according to the latest American Community Survey. Goss even wrote to the organizers, “Leave our town out of your s***.” But as of press time, the rally remained peaceful and local.
“We grew up here, and we’re trying to make our community better,” Betts added. “There’s no one coming from out of town. These are people who live here and who want change here.”
Not everyone wanted the rally to happen at the playground. Watson acknowledged there were some concerns about the venue, if the scale of the event reached the hundreds. But he was adamant that the protesters had every right to be there, contrary to Goss’ statement.
“She’s not a spokesperson for the borough,” Watson said. “She’s entitled to say whatever she wants. But once she mentions she’s a council person, well, she’s not the spokesperson for the borough.
“I’m authorized to speak for the borough because I know what’s going on. If you don’t know what’s going on, you should keep your mouth shut or make clear it’s your personal opinion.”
Goss could not be reached for comment Sunday evening.
About 15 minutes after the rally officially started at 2 p.m., about 23 people had shown up with signs near the white fence. About an hour after that, the crowd nearly doubled to 41. And two hours after the start, the crowd had grown to about 60.
Several children continued to laugh and run through the playground, while the rally limited itself to the fence. Other non-protesters retreated to the shade of one of the pavilions, and one man fished quietly at the dam.
The reason for the rally, the organizers said, wasn’t to cause damage or make children unable to use the slides or swings. They just wanted a public space to make their voices heard.
“If you just read through the comments online from the people that live here, they don’t understand what we’re fighting for,” said Keith, who grew up on Ninth Street. “They think it’s Republican vs. Democrat. We’re fighting for basic human rights for people that should’ve had this a long time ago.”
Added Zelensky: “They just don’t understand the Black Lives Matter movement. They don’t know why saying ‘All Lives Matter’ is disrespectful — because all lives do matter. But all lives won’t matter until black lives matter. That’s the goal of the movement.”
Protests and rallies like the one in Philipsburg have happened all across the nation, even locally from Clearfield to State College. The movement grew May 25 when George Floyd, an African American man in Minneapolis, was killed after a police officer knelt on his neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds, while several officers looked on. That highlighted the realities of institutional racism, and organizers said they hoped Philipsburg would see that incident and realize that it, too, needed to be better.
Just one week ago, for example, a local high school student at Philipsburg-Osceola shared an image of himself that mocked Floyd’s death. In it, he laid on the ground while a second individual knelt on his neck. The photo was captioned, “I can still breath(e). I’m not dead, something is off here.”
So the protesters stood Sunday, amid signs of “End small-town racism,” with the hope someone might read their signs — or hear their message — and understand, like most communities in the U.S., that change is needed.
And, until that change, the protesters said they had no intention to stop.
“I’ve realized living in a few places how small-minded our community is,” said Zelensky, who now lives in Philadelphia but still calls this area home. “And it’s almost scary some of the stuff you see on social media, honestly. And when I came home, I felt like I wasn’t doing enough. It just didn’t feel like enough.”
“And now,” she added, early in the rally, “there are 40 people there standing. We weren’t expecting this. We were hoping for this — but this is breath-taking.”
