I’m very late to this. I will never understand politics and I will never understand our judicial system. I do not consider myself an activist but the events of these past few weeks (and throughout history, really) have affected me in such a way that I feel the need to say something. I’m a licensed therapist and it’s always been my nature to have the ability to see and hear and empathize with both sides of any story, but I find it increasingly difficult to do so with the recent events that took place based on my own brief encounters with men wearing a badge and a uniform throughout my life. I was babysitting one night when I was about 18 years old. I was driving the kids home after taking them out for pizza. They were in the back seat of the car and little Ryan was doing his spot-on impersonation of Jim Carrey. I began to laugh hysterically and came to a quick stop at the red light in front of me. A police car was sitting in the adjacent lane; the driver looked over at us, immediately put his lights on and motioned for me to pull over. I did so, opened the window and asked why I was pulled over. He said, “You almost went through that red light.” I said, “Yes, but I didn’t. So what’s the problem?” He continued to bully me, asked to see my license and registration, asked me how long I had been driving, and told me that I should pay better attention when on the road. I told him, “I didn’t think it was against the law to laugh in your car. I didn’t do anything wrong. I stopped at the red light and didn’t go through.” He eventually walked away since he realized he had nothing on me. My mom was visiting me in NYC years ago. We were in Times Square and trying to figure out the location of some place we wanted to go. She said, “There’s a police officer, let’s just ask him.” I told her she could go ahead but based on that experience as a teenager, I had no desire to speak to the police. I stood back and listened as the officer looked annoyed by my mom’s question and then answered her in an overly condescending manner, practically making fun of her for not knowing the answer to her question in the first place. This was Times Square, the biggest tourist area in NYC. Isn’t the word “courteous” written on the side of the NYPD squad cars? A few years ago I had a Vespa. One morning I was driving to work and got pulled over for something insignificant and completely legal and I truly believe because I was standing up for myself, the encounter ended with the two officers confiscating my vehicle – completely unnecessary. I was unable to reason with them at all or explain myself. When we got to the station, I was belittled by one of the cops who made fun of my driving skills as I was cautiously parking the vehicle in a super narrow space behind the station. One of my internships during grad school was at a center that provided counseling services for women and children who were victims of domestic abuse. Can you guess the profession of many of their husbands? This last encounter was the one that affected me the most. My father was a pretty tough guy. He never allowed anyone to take advantage of him, speak down to him, or belittle him in any way. He used to pick me up from 30th street station in Philadelphia when I’d come home from NYC to visit. A few months after 9/11, he was picking me up. We noticed that there was an abundance of police officers stationed both in and outside the building. My dad walked up to an officer and innocently asked, “What’s going on? Why are there so many cops around?” The officer, who was about 40 years younger than my dad slowly turned his head toward him, squinted his eyes like he was disgusted by the question and condescendingly said, “Why do you THINK?” I was waiting to see how my dad would handle this guy. There was NO way he was going to let some punk disrespect him like that. Instead, I was shocked by my father’s response. He sheepishly laughed and said, “Oh yeah, officer… I see what you mean…. 9/11.” I was speechless. I couldn’t believe my father not only brushed off the disrespectful way the cop spoke to him, but almost apologized for asking the question in the first place. I asked him why he responded the way he did. He replied, “He’s a police officer – never argue with them - they deserve respect.” My dad was born in 1934 and a whole other essay can certainly be written about his response. If you’re still reading, of course I know that these experiences of mine are trite and insignificant. They are meaningless and I am embarrassed to even mention them after our nation’s recent events. I write about them because these simple encounters affected me. I felt bullied, I felt unheard, I felt insignificant and powerless because of an abuse of power by someone in a uniform. Having my pride damaged a little certainly pales in comparison to what countless people face on a daily basis every single day from small towns to large cities throughout the country. My heart goes out to each and every person of color who fears for their LIVES by simply crossing paths with someone bearing a badge. I acknowledge that there are many officers who are truly good and decent people and do a commendable job of keeping us safe, but the sad truth is that they are few and far between. The scales of justice have been tipping the wrong way for far too long and things need to change in a drastic way. No one should live in fear of a police officer. #respectisearned #earnthebadgeyouwear #balancethescales
Posted on: Sun, 07 Dec 2014 00:42:03 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015