I’ve only been pulled over by the police once. The year was 1990, and I was driving above the speed limit heading south on 127 just out of Camden. There were three of us in the car, heading to Louisville, and my two passengers were drinking. Bad choices, all around.
Of course, when the flashing lights came up behind me, I was terribly nervous. I drank a beer before we left the house. The officer walked up to the car, gave us a good look, and asked me to follow him back to his cruiser. I sat in the caged back of his car, while he ran my squeaky clean license through the system.
I tried to act terribly normal and calm and talked about things like softball, which we were heading off to play down there in Louisville. At the end of the ordeal, he wrote me a ticket and told me to slow down.
And that has been the only time I’ve been pulled over in my life. The only reason I had for worry was that I might somehow end up in jail for having open containers in the car or for having had a drink myself before getting behind the wheel. As it went, I drove away happily, on to my life, down Route 127, and into the sunset.
As we are seeing now, that is not, and has not, been the case for black Americans.
A couple of years ago, we started to see more and more of these occurrences come to light. We began to notice those times when where black American men and women were getting arrested by police — sometimes without cause — and eventually getting harmed or killed. I was astounded and appalled.
Then it happened again. And again. And again. When it seemed to be escalating, drawing near its apex, with case after case in the news, I said to Mary, “If every police department in America has any sense at all, they won’t draw a weapon on a black person, any time soon, for any reason.” I can’t remember which case it was now, but the media blitz was “all eyes on.”
And then, George Floyd came along.
For God and every one else to see.
And collectively, I think many of us believed, “Now, it will stop.”
Yet. Here we are. Since George Floyd died, the train keeps moving along the tracks. Countless African Americans have been shot, accosted, killed by police, under numerous circumstances. It is almost as if things are getting worse.
I know it is complicated. I know the police have a very difficult job to do. I would not want to be an officer, walking up to a car, asking for license and registration. From anyone. And we know that every minute of their jobs places them, potentially, in the line of danger. I understand they have to be on guard.
With all of this said, I also don’t want the police to go away. If someone breaks into my home, I want the police to show up. I’m grateful to think I have that assurance.
But the rest of this has to stop. It isn’t the same for me, a white person, as it is a black person.
So. How do we do this?
Some people say they need better training, more extensive preparations for their responses as officers.
But here is the thing. White guys aren’t getting shot and killed on a regular basis by the police. So why is police training working for white people and not for blacks?
What is the imbalance between the two? Why does the switch flip on and off? Where is the cause?
I think the reform is necessary, but it has to begin at the deepest level. I believe it must come in society with the acknowledgment and repair of racism, at the very core of all of us.
I also think skin color does matter. It is a part of all of us, of our culture, our ancestry. It has a lot to do with who we are and where we came from. But it shouldn’t separate us. Being different is our truth. No two of us are alike. We need to remember this is the best part of being human. We are unique. ALL of us.
If we expect others to accept and understand us, then we need to offer that same courtesy and understanding to others. All others. We need to start treating humans with humanity.
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“Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle.”
― George R.R. Martin
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“Oh God, the terrible tyranny of the majority. We all have our harps to play. And it’s up to you to know with which ear you’ll listen.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
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“There are not more than five musical notes, yet the combinations of these five give rise to more melodies than can ever be heard.
There are not more than five primary colours, yet in combination
they produce more hues than can ever been seen.
There are not more than five cardinal tastes, yet combinations of
them yield more flavours than can ever be tasted.”
― Sun Tzu
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More than a mistake. Another life taken.
