From State of the Re:Union host Al Letson: I grew up in Orange Park, Florida. I was constantly harassed by the police. The black kids couldn’t hang out like the white kids. If we congregated we were broken up, some times arrested and if they were really pissed you’d get worked over. The cops came to my house the day after someone wrote “No Fat Chicks or Niggers” on my street, right outside my window. The cops came because they wanted to know if we covered it up with house paint, cause that was against the law. Ask the folks I grew up with, about cops in OP. Back then the good ole boy’s didn’t play (especially the cop we called Moses). As a young man, I’ve been pulled over for no reason more times then I can count, (literally one cop let me go cause I was bumping NPR- seriously, no kidding.) I stopped once on 1-95 to help an older white woman change her tire, the cop got out of his cruiser, and watched me in the Florida Sun sweat to fix this woman’s tire, the whole time he watched me, with his hand on his gun. The woman came to thank me, he stopped her, made sure she was okay, let her go first and made me wait, then let me drive away. A friend and I ran a poetry reading and late one night, he called me, telling me a cop pulled him over for no reason and slammed him on the cruiser hood. I have 100 more stories from other friends, if I asked I’m sure I could source well over a thousand, that’s just one example. 10 years ago, I became a homeowner. One month later the cops came to my house, told me they “thought” they had a warrant for my arrest, ran through my house checking for other people. When I tried to ask questions he told me to shut up. He put me in his cruiser and we sat there for 2 hours with all my new neighbors watching. He let me go because he found out I was a writer, and they didn’t have a warrant. Through my life, me and many of my black friends, have been subject to more disrespect then many of you who have not experienced it would believe. I don’t say that to accuse you. I say that to explain, that we live in different versions of America. In my Facebook feed for the last two days it’s so evident to me. We maybe in the same place but having a completely different experience. I’m writing all of this, because if this hasn’t been your experience, then I need you to understand. I live in a world where everyday, I MUST know the predominate culture, I must understand how the world works around me. But you/the predominate culture, doesn’t necessarily have to know me. And if you don’t know my life, what I’ve dealt with, how can you possibly understand how I experience the world? How I experience the construct of race? It’s hard for me to listen to people dissect this case without the historical precedence, or dismiss the issues that surround Michael Brown’s death. We do not have the luxury of living solely in the present. We live with the past tied around our neck like a noose, especially in America, because we will not deal with it. We accept the rope burn and think that’s just how it is. I’ve spent the last 6 years of my life criss crossing the country. I’ve spoken to everyone, from a Priest in the Treme, to a Police Chief in Fairbanks Alaska to a convicted murder in Jefferson City Mo. to a grieving Haitian refugee in Miami. I’m comfortable in saying I know this country better then Don Lemon, Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, and any other cable news anchor, don’t believe me? My work speaks for itself. https://itunes.apple/…/state-of-the-re-uni…/id354763545… And I am losing faith in this country. And it breaks my heart. We have the potential to be great. But we piss it away. We’ve allowed fear to rule us, greed to consume us, Kim Kardashian’s ass to distract us. People say we have come a long way, and I guess they are right, but it’s hard to be optimistic on days like this. It’s raining in Jacksonville. I put up my hoodie when I was walking outside, and in the back of my mind I wondered if I was putting myself in danger by looking like a threat to someone who lives in the other America, that place I can only visit when I don’t look like a “thug”. *forgive the typos blame it on dyslexia.
Posted on: Wed, 26 Nov 2014 17:05:28 +0000
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