In George Floyd's hometown, anniversary marked with prayers and resolve

HOUSTON – The sun was finally shining after a day of rain and gray skies.

Holding red and gold balloons, the crowd gathered Tuesday evening at the public housing complex where George Floyd grew up to contemplate his life and death. They bowed their heads. They fell silent.

The pastor said his first name means farmer.

"George Floyd planted seeds of hope, and hope is the expectation of good," said Catherine Smith, founder and executive director of Power4Life Ministries. "He planted seeds in this community and … the seeds that he planted shall last forever."

As Floyd's family met with President Joe Biden in Washington and people streamed in to pay their respects at the Minneapolis street corner where he spent his final moments, the Houston neighborhood where Floyd spent much of his life marked the occasion with a deeply personal sense of hope and loss.

May 25 in the Third Ward began quietly, as a trickle of visitors came to a mural honoring Floyd at Twee's corner store that morning. Gazing at the bright swirls of Floyd's face, Falani Broussard remarked that he was at a man at peace.

"He got some type of justice, but the work still isn't done," said Broussard, noting that police had killed innocent people since Floyd died. "I feel like change isn't going to happen overnight. It's not going to happen in a year. You have to keep it going and stay the course."

"He changed the world," agreed Bev Auguste. "Not just Houston. Not just Texas. Everywhere. Just one man."

A few steps away, Arthur Cash sat in his truck reading a month-old edition of the weekly Black newspaper, the Houston Forward Times. Its front page trumpeted Chauvin's murder conviction with the headline "GUILTY FINALLY." Cash once lived in Cuney Homes, the public housing project where Floyd grew up, and thought of him as a nephew.

Cash, 72, explained that he was thinking just what he thought a year ago: The killing never should have happened.

"Thank God," he said, "we got justice."

Across the street, Floyd's childhood friend Travis Cains stopped by. He was feeling weary, having just re-watched a speech he delivered at Floyd's funeral in Pearland, Texas. Cains reflected on how they hadn't gotten all the justice they wanted one year in, how the fight would have to persist.

Angelo Williams walked up and greeted him, lamenting that the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act had not moved forward in Washington.

"They didn't pass that bill, man," Williams told him. "That wasn't just for George Floyd. That was for every individual."

Just after 4 p.m., an assortment of community leaders and Floyd's loved ones gathered at Cuney Homes' community center for the ribbon-cutting of a computer lab in Floyd's name. Rapper Trae tha Truth, who attended the Chauvin trial, helped put together the project, and spoke of his friendship with Floyd.

A local poet known as Sister Mama Sonya delivered a poem about Floyd and racial injustice, beginning with the statement "I can't breathe." She said it eight times.

"He called out in agony for his mother as he lay writhing in pain/Unable to move or breathe as he cried out again and again/As the murderous Minneapolis policeman's lethal actions resulted in his demise/He became the newest statistic and another murderous policeman's prize."

She wove together a narrative of his deep roots here, vowing to attack injustices and lift up Floyd's memory.

"Keep fighting, keep pushing, combating this hate/Until no other brother or sister, no other George Floyd will experience this odious fate."

"Say his name!"

"George Floyd!"

Around 5:20 p.m., Texas Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee took the podium, Floyd's sisters and nieces gathered behind her.

She told everyone to imagine what happened on this day in 2020. Imagine the girl who stood there courageously with her phone, she said. Imagine the firefighter who tried to render aid. Imagine the martial arts expert who understood what the officers' actions were doing to Floyd's body.

"But out of that and what they have experienced, America's family never turned to anger and hatred and contempt," she said of Floyd's survivors.

Houston Police Commander Caroleta Johnson vowed to not let the name of George Floyd die.

"There will be no more Derek Chauvins," she said. "Because that is not what we're made of as police officers."

The crowd prayed. They gave thanks. They shouted words of encouragement. They vowed that the push for change would not be over, that this was a day of reflection and the future was an era of action.

"My brother has all the power," said LaTonya Floyd, Floyd's older sister. "All the glory. He won. He won, OK? Derek is suffering. He will continue to suffer and I will continue to pray for that man."

They walked outside. Across a courtyard at Cuney Homes, a new generation of Black boys played on the same basketball court where Floyd had played as a child. Pastor Smith took the microphone. Each person took a balloon.

"It's harvest time … for change in this world," she said. "And we will work the ground that George Floyd laid and till the land for him."

The men, women and children raised their balloons in Floyd's honor, and chanted his name. Then they released them into the sky, shouting with joy as the specks of red and gold swirled far away.

maya.rao@startribune.com • 612-673-4210