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Protesters march through downtown Louisville on June 5.

It's May 30. From a perch several stories above downtown Louisville, Kentucky, a cacophony of sirens and chants engulf my apartment in the night. Protesters take over the main drag of the city, Broadway, crying out for justice for a woman killed in her bed by police officers in a no-knock raid in March. The sound of her name, Breonna Taylor, rises above the occasional gunshots and flash-bangs, which can be heard in intermittent, alternating blasts.

By 10:30 p.m. the cops have surrounded my building with more than a dozen cruisers. I peer over the edge of the railing and see a handful of officers walking into the complex.

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I pick up the phone and call Shelby Brown, a colleague whose quick-draw news reflexes are matched only by the steadiness of her hand on the wheel -- and her work in social justice outside of the newsroom. No editor assigned this job to us. We're just two journalists doing what we know how to do, rushing toward the news as it crashes into the scene around us.

The view of a protest from my apartment building.

"Get a pen and take this down," I say, tying my boots with the phone pressed between my shoulder and chin.

I give her my Social Security number and date of birth, and we set a call-back time and follow-up protocols. I grab a Sharpie and scribble an emergency phone number on my arm. Shelby whips out her laptop. Within moments, she's pulled together multiple screens that feed her live information about police and protest activity -- from Twitter, video livestreams, police scanners and news sites. She recites what's happening to me with clinical calm, directing my next steps as I cram cash, ID and a camera into a shoulder bag.

My day job is to write about technology, stress testing and critically evaluating the latest software, apps and services. But today, my years spent covering protests and politics for news publications snap into focus again and instinct takes over. Just like before, I have all the tech tools I need to record a piece of civil rights history. This time it's different, though. This time it's happening right outside my front door.

It's 2014 all over again, with the rise of social media once more offering everyone the chance to be a citizen journalist, just as it did amid the protests following the death of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. Social media has changed the way people protest, as well as how we document instances of racial injustice at the hands of institutions of power. Even so, four years later a Pew survey would find US newsrooms were still less racially diverse than most other industries, with 77% of reporters, editors, photographers and videographers identifying as non-Hispanic whites.

Shelby and I decided to cover the protests on social media not as part of a mainstream news organization, but for our own record -- to bear witness and become a part of the powerful corrective force composed of thousands of voices around the world, clamoring for racial justice and police reform as the fight literally hits our backyard.

Waves of protesters -- about half of whom appear to be young people of color, recording with their phones -- flood into the streets around my apartment building. I answer their calls as quickly as Shelby answers mine, each of us knowing a moment has arrived from which none of us are exempt.

Over the next week, Shelby and I work in tandem over the phone, paying close attention to the rhythm of each evening's political actions in Louisville. The ground control to my Major Tom, the Ned to my Peter Parker, Shelby stays in my ear navigating as I take to the streets to document police actions and protesting voices. From her home outside the city, she monitors police scanner activity and helicopter flight patterns. She shares updates from Gov. Andy Beshear and Mayor Greg Fischer. She tells me she's checking three screens' worth of local news and live streams.

On May 31, nearly an hour before the sunset curfew, a line of officers in riot gear advance on the peaceful assembly and begin firing round after round of pepper balls and flash bangs directly at the crowd, who scatter into alleys. Still rolling tape, a local NPR reporter and I are among the last shoes on the street, some 15 paces from the police. We're surrounded by noxious fumes. A flash bang whizzes past both of our heads as we dart to avoid it.

Shelby is sending me location updates when the police start firing pepper balls. By this time, the police had previously shot two Louisville journalists intentionally with pepper balls in a separate incident. I jump a couple of feet into the air to avoid being hit as one sails past my legs.

The Louisville Police Department would later claim their charging of the crowd was a necessary measure because they saw a protester with a leaf-blower, a device activists regularly bring to peaceful protests to disperse tear gas. They claimed the assembly was unlawful because the man holding the leaf-blower had somehow loaded bleach into the appliance.

When reporters asked about the leaf blower at a press conference later that day, law enforcement officials backpedaled on the bleach accusation and said police know that sometimes the blowers are used to disperse chemical gases used against protesters.

"They weren't going to blow leaves," Assistant Chief of Police LaVita Chavous told reporters.

Once again, social media and the ability for anyone to turn on their phone camera keeps those in power honest: Videos taken by people in the crowd surface online of the man who carried the leaf blower being brutally tackled into submission by at least 10 cops.

This happened two blocks away from my doorstep. None of us are exempt from this moment.

The work of racial justice is still ongoing, and chanting still sounds in the streets in downtown Louisville, the largest city in Kentucky, with a population of about 767,000 people.

As of June 12, Louisville activists have won a handful of victories. Louisville's metro council passed an ordinance called "Breonna's Law," banning no-knock search warrants, and Fischer has called for a full independent review of the police department.

Breonna's name is still being shouted from Tokyo to Paris. Even Beyonc has weighed in on social media, and in a letter calling on Kentucky Attorney General Daniel Cameron to charge the officers responsible for Breonna's death.

People gathered with balloons for a vigil in memory of Breonna Taylor on June 6 in Louisville.

Despite these initial victories, the determination of Louisville's grieving residents and the global momentum toward securing justice, the three officers who shot Breonna Taylor at least eight times in her bed haven't yet been fired or put on trial. Unlike the death of George Floyd, killed by a police officer kneeling on his neck during an arrest, there is no video filmed by an onlooker to capture the nation's attention. Breonna was sleeping in her bed, in her home. And the police officers' body cameras were not turned on.

Military vehicles are no longer being staged at the foot of my building. Shelby and I no longer spend our evenings tracking flash bangs and road blockades. But the police helicopters still come and go at all hours, intermittent now, as police continue to use pepper bullets against protesters, who continue to lock up downtown streets with caravans of honking vehicles.

A journalist's job is to keep the public informed and hold people in power accountable, bringing first-hand experiences to the masses so they can understand the who, what, when, where, why and so what that affects the world around us.

For journalists in my city, a wave of reporting has permanently transmuted how we, and our editors, approach stories about the systemic racism baked into nearly every American institution. Many media outlets have begun to realize that there are no "both sides" to racism. There are only the many sides of how we stop it. It's too soon to declare this a victorious moment for American journalism, though.

I worry that the longer march toward justice, the necessary conversations about reform, may fall silent as the dramatic moments of the city's activism fade. I worry that in this moment our industry will fail to see the opportunity and obligation it has in moving toward media justice, and that it will fall to the wayside in the coming weeks as the news cycle pulls us back in. I worry most that the historical employment gap between white and Black editors, producers and journalists in my field will remain unaddressed in favor of a passing wave of incrementally improved coverage of race relations. I worry that the executive power imbalance in my field will remain the same, despite the greater access to technological news tools we've had since the early aughts.

I have been covering protests for nearly a decade now. My hopes are not buoyed by the sight of another generation of young protesters, disproportionately those of color, who shoulder the traumatic burden of repeatedly documenting Black deaths at the hands of institutionalized racism. I am not satisfied with a narrative that the widespread adoption of social media and new communications technology is sufficient to enact industry-wide reform of mainstream news media.

Citizen journalists and activists documenting police brutality on Twitter have so far not been enough to sufficiently change the racial composition of the boardrooms of US news media enterprises.

None of us should be satisfied. None of us are exempt.

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Here's what it looks like when Black Lives Matter protests literally hit home - CNET

The first time I thought I knew someone famous was when I saw a man we called Byrd on television. I lit up. Byrd, a Black man I recognized as a friend of my dads, was speaking at a press conference. How could I be so lucky to know someone famous enough to make it on television? When I asked my mother, she said that Byrd was sad. How could someone make it on the screen by being sad, I asked. She continued folding clothes and said, Ill tell you when you get older. She said that to me a lot back then.

I later learned that Ross Byrd was on television to talk about the killing of his father. James Byrd Jr., a Black man from Jasper, Texas, was beaten and dragged to death along a three-mile stretch of road by three white supremacists, his body dumped in front of a Black cemetery. That was 1998, and it happened only 55 miles from Lufkin, where I was born and raised.

Its not lost on me that my mother worked to shield me and my siblings and cousins from the realities of living in deep East Texas. And that she taught us how to survive our Blackness: growing up we knew all the places that werent meant for Black and Brown people. We were taught where to avoid in order to keep safe. Now, as an adult, I know that Black people arent even safe in their own homes.

But as protests and demonstrations against police brutality and the mistreatment of African Americans continue nationwide, in East Texas, that same call for justice is beginning to blossom. With more than a century of violence and harassment aimed at Black people in the area, and an insidious history as a home of the Ku Klux Klan, sweeping protests demanding reform have arrived among the thick pine woods and small towns of the region.

In Beaumont, protests have been held outside of city hall. In the historical sundown town of Vidor, more than 100 people showed up to march, despite heavy skepticism that the event was real and not a trap set up by white supremacists. For three weeks, protestors have shown up in Tyler to demand justice and express solidarity. And in Jasper, where James Byrd Jr. was murdered, organizers have gathered to honor Byrd and George Floyd: two Black men who have become involuntary martyrs.

This city has already suffered injustice a decade or two before George Floyd. So, we wanted to honor that, said Jasper protest organizer and congressional candidate Rashad Lewis. But we also wanted to honor the death of James Byrd here in our own city.

Sustained and widespread demonstrations like this have never happened in deep East Texas. And now, protestors are repeating the names of those killed like a hymn sung in Sunday school. An echo behind the Pine Curtain where the seeds of the civil rights movement were planted but never fully took root: Black. Lives. Matter.

Racism and high rates of violence in East Texas can be traced to slavery. By 1860, the vast majority of enslaved Black people in Texaswho made up 30 percent of the states population lived on large cotton plantations in the pineywoods region. Following the Civil War, the region saw some of the most gruesome assaults on Black Texans who dared to celebrate their newly found freedom. Many of those crimes went unpunishedfrom 1865 to 1866, authorities issued 500 indictments statewide for the murder of Blacks by Anglos, but no convictions ever resulted. In the decades that followed, the vast majority of reported lynchings of Black people in the state occurred in East Texas.

Public lynchings of Black people became commonplace in town centers, and in broad daylight. In 1893, Lamar County, in Northeast Texas, ushered in the era of spectacle lynchings when 17-year-old Henry Smith was tortured and burned alive in front of 10,000 onlookers in Paris, Texas, the county seat. Postcards with images of his murder and pieces of his body were sold as souvenirs. At least nine Black men were lynched by white mobs over the next three decades in Paris alone.

White Texans, particularly from East Texas, were determined that white supremacy would be attained, says historian Merline Pitre, a professor at Texas Southern University. Violence was used to keep African Americans in their place.

In 1910, a mob of white vigilantes murdered more than 50 unarmed Black people whose bodies were dumped into unmarked communal pits in Slocum, in Anderson County. No one was ever convicted for the massacre, and even recent attempts to document the murders were blocked by county officials. The Longview Race Riot of 1919, during the Red Summer when white supremacists attacked African Americans in dozens of cities across the nation, resulted in the death of two local businessmen and the destruction of the Black section of town after residents encouraged each other to buy from their own community in response to racism and segregation.

As once prominent lumber towns turned into ghost towns, violence in East Texas would only get worse as the country approached the Great Depression and the New Deal eras.

African Americans were hardest hit by the Great Depression, and by 1935, 90 percent of African American farm laborers in Texas were out of a job. Economic insecurity exacerbated racial terror for Black communities in East Texas, and by the 1940s, racial tensions would bubble over here and around the United States, as African Americans voiced outrage about serving in World War II for a country that did not grant them equal rights.

Beaumont, a shipbuilding center, saw a race riot in 1943 that resulted in hundreds of Black homes and businesses damaged by about 4,000 rioters who were angry over the alleged rape of a white woman by a Black man. More than 200 people were arrested and 50 were injured.

The marches today mean something more than just a call for the end of police brutality. Theyre a demand for an end to all brutality in a community plagued with a long history of tragedy and intimidation.

My family has lived this history of racism and violence. I grew up hearing stories from my pawpaw, my grandpa, of school desegregation in Lufkin in the 70s and of threats and fights. He told me about the time he was accused of trying to rape a white store owners wife who happened to be in the back of the shop while he was delivering sodas. Ive been called n*****, been followed by cops for playing basketball with my little cousins. East Texas has seen lynchings and KKK rallies in my lifetime.

Ive been conflicted the past few weeks seeing the recent protests in a region that many have always regarded as just racist, but which for me is also home. Im excited about a renewed sense of urgency for Black lives. But theres bitterness and grief, too, over silence and the delayed response to all the other George Floyds, Tamir Rices, Sandra Blands and Breonna Taylors that remain buried in the East Texas woods. Where were their protests? Their laws? Their memorials? Stories like these are the ones that continue to live on in the region, but there doesnt need to be the loss of a Black body to feel the tragedy of racism and the way it floats like a thick smog in the air, permeating everything.

A 2016 analysis by the Dallas Morning News found that over 90 percent of police officers in Lufkin and Nacogdoches were white, despite having a population that is majority Black and Hispanic. A 2013 ACLU report found that African Americans were more than twice as likely than whites to be arrested on marijuana charges in Texas, and two East Texas counties ranked in the nations top five for this racial disparity. And African Americans in East Texas have experienced the most pervasive poverty among Black people across the state, with a median income below $25,000, according to research from the The University of Texas at Austin. Recent COVID-19 cases have also ballooned in East Texas, as the pandemic disproportionately impacts Black and Brown communities across the nation and rural areas scramble for adequate testing and resources.

The protests today signal a shift in the status quo, but theres still a need for sweeping systemic change in a region that has been resistant to do so. I hope that marchers here and across the country will continue to say the name of George Floyd, without forgetting to say the names of James Byrd Jr., Henry Smith, and countless other victims lost to hatred and bigotry. I hope that this moment leads to the end of a system that has long stolen our freedom and our ability to breathe, and to a sustained movementone that, this time, doesnt pass East Texas by.

Once, when I was about 8 years old, I sat with my cousin in the back seat of my aunts car as she drove us through Splendora, 40 miles northeast of Houston. We passed a group of men draped in white sheets parading on the side of the road, and we pointed excitedly out the window at what we thought were ghost costumes for an early Halloween. My aunt told us to close our eyes and put our heads down, as she gripped the wheel and continued to drive.

Those figures continue to haunt my home. I see now its time we pull over and face them.

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What the Black Lives Matter Protests Mean for East Texas - The Texas Observer

By Kristina Garcia and Kim Pham | 16 hours ago

Today, Orange County residents are celebrating Juneteenth.

Sometimes called Emancipation Day or Americas second independence day, Juneteenth is recognized as a holiday or day of observance in 48 states and the District of Columbia.

Juneteenth is especially resonant this year as Black Lives Matter protests continue in communities throughout the country.

Given Orange Countys traditionally strained relationship with Black residents and a long history of KKK chapters throughout the county, the BLM protests have special import here as they place a new generation of Black residents on center stage to focus on issues of police budgeting and use of force like never before.

But what is Juneteenth exactly?

On Jan. 1, 1863, Abraham Lincoln formally issued the Emancipation Proclamation, freeing all enslaved people from the Confederate states and declaring their freedom in America now and forever. However, issuing the document wasnt an immediate fix.

In 1863, news traveled slowly across the United States. And it wasnt uncommon for slaveholders to withhold this information from enslaved people until the end of harvest. Texas, the westernmost slave-owning state, was among the last to receive word of the proclamation.

On June 19, 1865, Gordon Granger, a Union Army general, finally arrived in Galveston, Texas where he issued the order from the president of the United States. He not only announced the end of the Civil War but revealed that enslaved people were to be freed.

Image courtesy of the Texas State Library and Archives Commission

General Orders, No. 3. U.S. House, 54th Congress, 1st Session (H. Doc. 369, Part 2). General Order Number 3, 1896. U.S. Documents Collection. Y 1.1/2: SERIAL 3437

Although Gen. Grangers orders didnt immediately free them, they did spark celebration for newly freed Black people, and since then June 19, or Juneteenth, has been marked as the day of commemoration for the end of slavery.

Justice Crudup, a Black Lives Matter activist based in Anaheim, said he believes that June 19 should be recognized as a national holiday for many reasons.

I think a lot of American culture has engulfed and promoted Black culture without actually pledging allegiance to Black intellect and Black heritage, Crudup said.

The recent protests across the nation, sparked by the death of George Floyd, have come to represent a momentous event in civil rights history. They are reminiscent not only of the 1960s civil rights movement, but also of the uprisings in the 1800s which led to the Emancipation Proclamation.

Crudup and his family started celebrating Juneteenth on the 13th, and will continue their celebrations throughout the weekend a common custom. He said that while the 19th was the big hammer on the nail, with Lincolns signing of the executive order, it is important to remember and acknowledge the significance of the fights and the activism that took place to make it happen.

There were many other factors, many other big events that led up to Juneteenth in history. There were a lot of slave rebellions, a lot of marches, there were a lot of civil rights movements that led to the Emancipation Proclamation, Crudup said.

Even though in-person celebrations and gatherings have been cancelled due to the coronavirus pandemic, people can commemorate Juneteenth by educating themselves and those around them.

Visit theThe Smithsonians National Museum of African American History and Culture. All day on Friday, June 19 and Saturday, June 20, 2020, they will host an online celebration where they (bring) the Museum to you through presentations, stories, photographs, and recipes from the Sweet Home Caf.

Check out Observing Juneteenth in 2020 , a story recently posted by PBS. It includes informative videos about this day.

Engage with the black community in Orange County and learn more about black history by visiting the websites of these Orange County based organizations:

I think what Americans should be doing is not only watching your standard documentary about Black history but engaging in conversations with individuals who may not understand the full scope of Black history and how it has basically been destroyed within the American curriculum, Crudup said.

Crudup said that Americans look at slavery, Jim Crow laws, and Martin Luther King Jr., and think that is Black history. But there are many more people and events that they should familiarize themselves with to broaden their perspectives.

Despite recurring proposals across multiple administrations to recognize Juneteenth as a national holiday, the issue is still the subject of debate. Crudup said that Americans should be questioning this unacceptable status quo.

I think Americans should want to question it. Why is Juneteenth not a national holiday? I mean, who is preventing it? Why has it been such a hard thing to swallow in the past? Crudup said.

If people dont know where weve been, then we arent looking at our history, then how the heck are we going to know where to go for progress?

For people who are looking to gather from a safe distance, the Orange County affliate of Susan G. Komen will be hosting a virtual Juneteenth on June 19 from 6 to 7 p.m on Facebook and YouTube Live.

Susan G. Komen partnered with the OC branch of the National Coalition of 100 Black Women and the OC Heritage Council to help bring on Dr. Veronica Jones M.D. from City of Hope and Letitia Clark, Tustin mayor pro tem, for a question-and-answer panel which will will dive into discussions about breast health disparities among the Black community and other relevant topics.

Black Lives Matter protesters are embodying the spirit of the holiday by continuing their activism through the Juneteenth weekend. Individuals can attend one of five protests coming up at the end of this week in Buena Park, Irvine, Seal Beach, Newport Beach and Santa Ana.Most of these protests encourage the use of face masks and social distancing to adhere to COVID-19 safety measures.

Below is a chart of all protests in Orange County and their specific times:

Kristina Garcia is an intern for Voice of OC Arts & Culture. She can be reached at kristinamgarcia6@gmail.com.

Kim Pham is an intern for Voice of OC Arts & Culture. She can be reached at kimhphm@gmail.com.

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Celebrating Juneteenth in the Midst of the Black Lives Matter Movement - Voice of OC

STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. -- For Kamor Olayokun, an assistant principal at P.S. 78 in Stapleton, this years Juneteenth was an opportunity for him to teach fellow students of color about black history first hand, and give them a chance to rewrite it.

Olayokun, his students, and about a hundred other Staten Islanders descended on Richmond Terrace Friday to paint the citys second Black Lives Matter street mural at the base of Borough Hall, Staten Islands courthouses and the 120 Precinct.

This is history for us, this is our opportunity of changing the narrative for young people of color so we had to be here, said Olayokun, who brought along a group of 10 high school, middle school and elementary students of color to help paint the mural.

This is another way for them to express themselves and to be heard, a lot of this work is not in the textbooks, but heres their opportunity to rewrite the textbooks, he said.

Many longtime Staten Islanders who showed up Friday said they would have never imagined a phrase honoring black people on Juneteenth, the day commemorating the end of slavery in the United States, would ever be written on one of the most important areas on Staten Island.

I never thought [this mural] would actually happen, especially it being Juneteenth, said lifelong Staten Islander Tracy Henriquez or West Brighton. It just resonates all the more and really solidifies that I am a true Staten Islander and its a real melting pot and people can embrace everyone.

North Shore Councilwoman Debi Rose (D-Staten Island) said she chose the location for the Islands Black Lives Matter street mural to make a statement to those going to and from the Staten Island Ferry, heading to the boroughs seat of government, seeking justice at the Islands courthouses and in front of the 120 Precinct, which she said has disproportionately policed the Islands black community for years.

For [the mural] to be at the front door of the 120th Precinct where many of the officers worked that were involved in over-policing of black communities, this speaks volumes, Rose said. This is a constant reminder of how important Black Lives Matter is and its especially significant on Juneteenth.

Following nationwide protests over the death of George Floyd, a black Minneapolis man who died at the hands of a white cop, who kneeled on his neck for nearly nine minutes, Mayor Bill de Blasio announced one street in every borough would be renamed Black Lives Matter and a road would be painted to match the sign.

The mayor paid a visit to the borough Friday to help paint the Islands new mural and unveil its new Black Lives Matter Plaza street sign at Wall Street and Richmond Terrace outside of the 120 Precinct.

SOME WONDER WHERE THE OTHER ISLAND LEADERS ARE

Aside from de Blasio, the only other elected officials who attended the street mural painting were the boroughs two black politicians -- Councilwoman Rose and Assemblyman Charles Fall (D-North Shore).

Some Staten Islanders said they were upset that the 10 other borough lawmakers did not show up, especially fellow North Shore lawmaker State Sen. Diane Savino and Borough President James Oddo, whose office sits right above the street mural.

Michelle Akyempong or Arlington. who attended some of the Islands police accountability protests in recent weeks, said she was not satisfied by Island elected officials response to the protests.

Im not satisfied with the electeds out here, I think they should be doing more, this is an election year, were theyre constituents, they should be concerned about their constituents especially on the North Shore, said Akyempong.

We also have a state senator who should be out here [Diane Savino] maybe shes doing something, but I think that sometimes you just have to come out and show support for the people who have voted for you. The borough president, Akyempong continued.

Savinos office said the state senator did not receive an invitation to the street painting, while Oddos office did not return requests for comment about why he did not attend.

Ryan Lavis, a spokesman for District Attorney Micheal McMahon said McMahon was unable to attend because of previously scheduled matters but applauded the work of the volunteers who showed up Friday.

The Islands seven other lawmakers either did not return requests for comment about their whereabouts at press time or said they were not invited to the street painting.

Councilwoman Rose, who organized Fridays event, admitted she did not extend the invitation to fellow elected officials, including Assemblyman Fall, but said they should have known about the widely publicized event and come on their own.

ISLAND LEADERS LACK OF ATTENDANCE SHOWS DISCONNECT WITHIN COMMUNITY, ROSE SAYS

Rose said their lack of attendance showed a disconnect within the Staten Island community.

The fact that anybody would think that they had to have an invitation to be here, especially an elected official, I didnt reach out to Charles Fall, the fact that were still thinking in silos and thinking in color, along racial lines, she said.

This is not a black event because if this is a black event then the message is being missed, she said.

We dont need hope, we need eminent change, said Taiwan Prince of St. George. We need to teach people to not only paint these words today, but respect them going forward.

We have to be ready to truly break down these systems, said City Council candidate Amoy Barnes. We can sit here and march until the cows come home but if were not ready to get in there and do the disciplined work, its not going to happen. We have to work together.

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Hundreds gather to paint Black Lives Matter across Richmond Terrace to mark Juneteenth - SILive.com

HONOLULU (KHON2) Hawaii State Department of Health announces 18 new cases of COVID-19 Thursday, June 18.

Officials said the surge was expected due to the reopening of the state and the Black Lives Matter protests the first week in June.

Lieutenant Governor Josh Green said Hawaii could see numbers like this for the next several days. He is urging the public to be especially vigilant this weekend to help bring those numbers back down.

On Saturday, June 6th an estimated 10,000 people gathered supporting the Black Lives Matter Movement marching together from Ala Moana to the State Capitol. The day before the protest marched in Waikiki with roughly 2,000 in attendance. Twelve to thirteen days later a spike in positive cases of coronavirus.

Eighteen new cases today and its in effect the result of the protests. And then of course theres a small surge at a nursing facility, so the combo is 18 cases, Green explained.

The spike uptick in cases is no surprise. Green warned it would happen.

You have to expect these small surges if people do end up out-and-about without significant social distancing.

Green said he the surge could last from three to five days but believes it will be short-lived.

He said the fact that the protest coincided with reopening dine-in restaurant service was unfortunate.

My hope has always been to add only one significant variable at a time since we opened restaurants and that we knew would have some small increase. But Im not going to criticize people for exercising their freedom of speech, their right to gather together and to protest injustice.

Even though its not ideal, Green is not overly concerned.

Weve done an incredible thing, which is get through phase one with 17 fatalities only. There are definitely going to be a few people that succumb to the virus, but we can keep that number very low if we dont forget that COVID is around.

He said Hawaiis healthcare facility resources are ready.

Were still only about 50 percent of our intensive car units being used and only about 12 percent of our ventilators. Were fine from a healthcare standpoint.

But he said, its important to remember that social distance and the need to wear masks wont be changing any time soon.

Its going to be like this for the rest of the year. There are going to be moments where we have surges but I would be super mindful that we dont have a consistent surge that would jeopardize our healthBeing careful is the key and I will put every protocol in place to reduce the risk. But that still could spread here between us when were being carefree. Green explained.

He suggests doing something peaceful and quiet this weekend and stresses the importance of avoiding crowds. If you are going to be around others, Green said dont forget your mask.

There are currently 105 active cases, out of 762 total cases in Hawaii.

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Lawmaker says Black Lives Matter protest likely contributed to spike in COVID-19 cases - KHON2