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Close to his right ear, Jose Luviano-Mondragon has a little pink circle.
It’s about the size of a dime, and it’s hard to notice unless you know where to look. But Jose knows it’s there. He can see it and remember a Friday night three years ago — of going to his aunt’s house and delivering three orders of enchiladas made by his grandparents.
If only that was it.
That little pink circle shows where Jose was shot.
It was Nov. 10, 2017, the beginning of a three-day weekend. Time to celebrate.
Jose’s grandparents had turned their house into a restaurant for family and friends. They do it often, and when they do, they make traditional food endemic to their homeland of Mexico and ask Jose and his uncle to make deliveries to families and friends around Greensboro.
That night, his uncle drove. They had a delivery for Jose’s aunt. They pulled into the neighborhood, and Jose had a gut feeling something was wrong. He couldn’t figure out what it was when his uncle pulled into his aunt’s driveway and handed him the enchiladas.
Jose had done this so many times before. With the enchiladas in his hands, Jose took one step out of the car. Immediately, Jose tumbled back inside.
He couldn’t see.
He couldn’t hear.
His whole body felt hot and wet. Blood.
“They got me!” he yelled. “They got me!”
Jose had been shot.
He and his uncle ran from the car and banged on his aunt’s door.
“Let us in!” his uncle screamed.
She opened the door and saw her nephew covered in blood.
“Are you OK?” she asked, shocked.
Jose didn’t answer. He was in shock. His uncle was screaming. His aunt’s husband called the police and 911. Jose called his mom.
“I’ve been shot,” he told her.
She screamed, too.
The paramedics and police came. The police asked them what happened, and the paramedics checked Jose’s pulse and cleaned up his arms and legs. They asked him a few questions before loading him onto a gurney, rolling him into an ambulance and rushing to a hospital.
In the ambulance, Jose saw images flash through his mind like scenes from incredibly familiar movie.
He saw his parents, his family, his friends and his dog, Bella, a chihuahua.
“Don’t close your eyes!” he told himself. “Everything is going to be OK!”
Or is it?
Jose didn’t know. He could only hope and pray.
“God, I hope you can work your power, and everything comes out good. Please.”
Jose spent three days in the hospital. The bullet didn’t go very far into his cheek. He left the hospital on a Monday, with an ice pack on his swollen right cheek.
His recovery took three months. He had his mouth wired shut, and the doctors removed the bullet after three surgeries. When he went back to school in January, he got lots of questions. He hated it. He wanted everything to be OK, back to normal.
That was hard.
Jose spent three months in therapy trying to cope with the unconceivable. In the meantime, he found out from police that the shooting was a case of mistaken identity. The shooters thought Jose and his uncle were someone else. No one has ever been arrested.
Yet, Jose sees the good that has come out of something that was incredibly bad.
“It’s sparked a growth in me,” he says of the shooting. “I have truly realized you only have one life to live. Anything can happen in the blink of an eye. Me and my uncle, we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Jose is the oldest of three. His dad works in landscaping, and his mom works for a cleaning company. Jose graduated a few weeks ago from Dudley High, seventh in his class of 264. Later this summer, he will start classes at N.C. State and major in computer engineering.
He will be the first in his family to go to college.
“I believe that God saved my life,” he says. “I was too young, and I still need to accomplish many more things in life. So, I feel like that’s the main reasons I got a second chance at life. I have so much to accomplish.”
For Jose, what he believes he has to accomplish is something he discovered in Donald Sweeper’s engineering class.
Jose was a sophomore when Sweeper introduced Jose to coding. Jose didn’t know anything about hardware and software. But once Sweeper introduced him to coding and the computer language known Python, Jose was enamored with the possibilities.
“It just blew my mind,” he says today.
Sweeper started the Panther Coding Club. He brought in a student from N.C. A&T to help. Jose became the club’s president.
After Jose came back to school following the shooting, he and three other club members competed in the Healthy App Innovation Challenge, a coding competition in Winston-Salem. They had to create a computer app about healthy eating in school.
The Panther Coding Club competed against eight other schools. They won.
The club received $5,000 for Dudley High, and the club members who competed received Acer Chromebook laptops. That laptop became Jose’s first computer.
His family has a desktop computer at home. Jose shares that computer with his younger sister. He also uses his phone as well as a computer at school to complete his work.
But because of the competition, he earned a laptop because of who he is — a skilled teenage coder bound for N.C. State.
“I share a lot of things with my sister, and that is not a bad thing,” he says. “But knowing I could use it for me, that made me feel happy. It was mine.”
Jose has received a $4,000 scholarship created by Nichad Davis, a 2009 Dudley grad.
Davis created the Rose From Concrete scholarship, and according to its description, the scholarship is awarded to a student who “exemplifies the grit, intestinal fortitude, and perseverance to overcome adversity and become a beacon of hope for the world. “
Sounds like Jose. Sweeper, Jose’s teacher, thinks so.
In a seven-sentence Facebook post about Jose, Sweeper wrote: “Seeing him rise from the ashes, not giving any excuses to give his best in all things, encouraged me to continue teaching. … Again, I am very proud of seeing Jose still on the grind, and I believe he is one that will help save our world one day.”
Jose reads that post at least once a week.
“When I read it, it’s such a great feeling,” he says. “I know I have people who have my back. I am beyond grateful. I’m blessed.”
The reverberating cries of “Amen” were deafening to the Rev. Richard Hughes as he stood on stage preaching about solidarity to more than 5,000 people at a recent Black Lives Matter protest in Greensboro.
Hughes sees his role as a pastor at Saint James Presbyterian Church in Greensboro as both a religious leader and a civil rights advocate.
“My faith is not mutually exclusive from justice, the two go hand in hand,” Hughes said. “As a faith leader, it is my obligation to speak against injustice. Jesus was a victim of injustice.
“If I don’t mention that when I preach, I’m complicit,” he said. “And if I become complicit with his executioners, I’m complicit with the executioners of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, all of them.”
As it did in the historic civil rights movement, religion is playing a significant role in the Black Lives Matter movement.
Opening prayers and Christian sermons are common features of Black Lives Matter events in North Carolina. According to a religious landscape study by the Pew Research Center conducted in 2014, nearly 80% of adults in the state identify as Christian.
“In terms of Blacks, we have always felt that God takes the side of the oppressed in society,” Hughes said. “Whenever God reveals himself in scripture, it almost always happens through the oppressed. That gives us a sense of hope that God is on our side and that we have a righteous indignation to rise up against systems of injustice.”
Hughes said he believes God is listening to the current movement in the same way he did in biblical scripture. He referenced Exodus 3:9, which reads, “And now the cry of the Israelites has reached me, and I have seen the way the Egyptians are oppressing them.”
Historically and today, Christianity has been a unifying factor between those directly affected by systemic racism and those standing in solidarity with them.
“The civil rights movement is an extension of the social gospel and liberation theology,” said Andrew Monteith, an assistant professor of religious studies at Elon University. “People who believe in that are looking to create a society better than the one they started with. For them, not only is progress plausible but it is their duty to take an active role in it.”
According to Monteith, a historian of American religion and power, even though liberation theology is credited to Christianity, it is a belief in many other religions. The belief is that liberation from social, political and economic oppression is critical for ultimate salvation.
Hughes said he believes this interfaith unity and the unanimous belief in liberation is critical to the success of the Black Lives Matter movement.
“Whites have to be comfortable coming into Black spaces and be willing to play second fiddle, if you will, to lift up the voices of Black people,” he said. “You can’t speak for us, but you can speak with us.”
Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, a white minister and Christian writer based in Durham, is an ally of the Black Lives Matter movement and other initiatives aimed at ending systemic racism.
“Allyship is important because it recognizes there are directly impacted people on any issue, who should speak for themselves,” Wilson-Hartgrove said. “When it comes to the question of how racist systems press down on Black bodies, the most important thing somebody like (me) can do is show up and lift up the voices who have experienced that and who are crying out.”
He helped organize the June 20 event of the Poor People’s Campaign, which has been calling for sweeping national policy reforms aiming to end systemic racism and improve general welfare, working conditions, health care and wealth redistribution.
According to Wilson-Hartgrove, religion plays a prominent role in every aspect of activism.
“Faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen,” he said. “People who hunger and thirst for justice, who want to see a better world, have faith to place their footing while they reach toward that future that is not yet.”
While Christianity has historically been the religion most present in U.S. civil rights movements, Wilson-Hartgrove said he believes the Black Lives Matter movement is pushing for more diversity.
“It’s important to acknowledge that the organized resistance of the civil rights movement over the past 40 years, has been a Christian nationalist resistance,” he said. “In light of that, progressive movements that are for expanding equal protection under the law and for greater justice have been intentional about saying that’s not the only kind of Christianity.”
Christian leaders need to encourage people of all faiths to take an active role in the current civil rights struggle, Wilson-Hartgrove said.
“I try to advocate for a Christianity that challenges Christian nationalism,” he said. “One that includes our Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist neighbors and those who are not of a particular religious tradition but believe in the moral values of the Constitution. The movement has been intentionally interfaith and inclusive to people whose faith is in a moral universe.”
Fred Guttman, a rabbi at Temple Emanuel in Greensboro, is a longtime supporter of interfaith activism. A few years ago, he was an energetic door-knocking participant of “Moral Mondays,” a series of protests in North Carolina led by religious leaders seeking to restore morality in state government, a push back after Republicans took control and advanced a conservative agenda.
“Jews believe every human being is created in the image of God,” Guttman said. “Therefore, any taint of racism is against the basic principles of our religious faith. We are all living on this blue, green spaceship we call Earth. We have to work together towards a day where bigotry and racism will not exist and all human beings acknowledge the very precious nature of each other.”
Even though the 68-year-old rabbi has been cautious about returning to the streets because of COVID-19, he has actively advocated for the demands of the Black Lives Matter movement.
Guttman has called for Juneteenth — one of the oldest commemorations of the end of slavery in the U.S. — to be recognized as a federal holiday.
As activists from different faiths, like Guttman, promote the cause, current events continue to add to the demands of the movement.
The deaths of Floyd and Taylor at the hands of police officers resparked the entire initiative, which immediately focused on ending police brutality.
After the June 12 shooting of Rayshard Brooks by an Atlanta police officer, the movement’s causes grew to include defunding law enforcement, increasing Black voter turnout, removing Confederate statues and recognizing Juneteenth as a federal holiday.
“It’s only when you rock the boat and make people uncomfortable that we can really start to have some productive change in society,” Hughes said. “If you make everyone comfortable, essentially nothing gets done.”
To continue advocating both in and out the pulpit, Hughes is working with local groups to organize an anti-racism rally at Greensboro’s Westminster Presbyterian Church — located in a predominantly white neighborhood — on the Fourth of July.
By constantly rocking the boat, Hughes said, people will eventually listen and be willing to “have productive conversations that lead to positive change.”
“The minute I become silent is the minute I become complicit with injustice,” he said. “And that will be the minute I stop practicing my faith.”