And, I'm not even going to say that I didn't deserve it. It happened after swimming lessons, and on the way home. The kids started yelling in the car. It was loud. I started yelling back, not even paying attention to my speed.
Then, I saw him. He waved me over.
From the backseat, I hear, "Mommy, why are you pulling over?" "Mommy, what's going on?" "Mommy, why are you talking to that man?"
I pulled over, and let the window down. My hands in plain sight, because.....well, because.
I tried to put the van in park, and I couldn't get the danged gear shift to move. Hindsight being 20/20, I was probably pushing the wrong button, you know, the one that let's you go into D4, instead of the release lever.
Here's how the stop went down:
Officer: Hi, there. Do you know how fast you were going?
Me: No, sir, I don't. The kids were yelling, and I was yelling back, so I wasn't paying attention to my speed. (I put my hands up in the air over the steering wheel) I am currently trying to put my vehicle in park, and I can't get the lever to move.
Officer: Did you just get your nails done?
Me: No. I am trying to keep my hands in plain sight, so that there's no question as to what I'm doing. Would you like to try and put in park for me?
Officer: How about you take your foot off of the brake and try again.
Me: I do not want there to be any confusion as to what I am doing.
Officer: OK. You're Ok, ma'am. Can I see your license?
Me: *looks around towards the back seat, very slowly* I cannot reach my purse. It is on floor behind my son's carseat. *motions with my head towards the opposite side of the car*
Officer: Can you reach it?
Me: No, I cannot.
Officer: Would you like for me to get it for you.
Me: Yes.
Officer: OK. Can you open the door for me?
Me: Yes. I am going to reach down with my left hand to unlock the door and push the button.
Officer: OK. How many in the car with you?
Me: Three kids.
Officer: *reaches in and gets my purse* Here you go. (He also said hi to the kids, who, oddly enough, decided to be quiet)
Me: I am going to reach back and get it from you, then put it on the center console and get my wallet out. Thank you.
Officer: OK. You know, it's ok. It's not necessary for you to keep your hands up.
Me: Yes, it is. I don't want there to be any confusion as to what I'm doing. *hands officer license*
Officer: *scans license, scans window sticker, asks me to sign in the yellow box*
Me: I am reaching down to sign.
Officer: OK.
I sign, officer starts walking to his car.
Officer: When was the last time you got a ticket?
Me: *momentary blank stare as I'm trying to do mental math* I am not trying to be non-responsive or disrespectful, I'm trying to do the math. It was 2007, I believe.
Officer: So, it's been a while?
Me: Yes.
Officer: Ok. *he verifies the street that I live on and hands back my license, and the ticket* Here you go. Be safe.
Me: Ok, thank you. May I drive off now?
Officer: Yes, you can. Have a good evening.
Me: Thank you. You, too.
See, when I got pulled over, I wasn't worried about what my hubby would say. I wasn't worried about our car insurance going up.
I was worried about getting out of a traffic stop alive, and with my children. You see, at any given moment, I could have been considered a threat to the officer. In that moment, he could have felt justified in pulling me out of my car, tazing me, handcuffing me, shooting me...in front of my kids. The children that I'm trying to teach to trust the police.
Why could I have been considered a threat?
Look at me.
Look. At. Me.
Just by the nature of my skin color, some people think that I am a threat. A beast who is out of control. Able to snap at any given second and go on a killing spree. It's true. And if you don't think so, there's nothing that I can tell you. I live in this skin, and there have been many times when people have assumed the worst of me without ever getting to know me. It happens. And, I was afraid that this officer could have been one of those people.
Now listen, I am by no means saying that all officers are like that. In fact, I believe that it's only a few, but they are the ones who get the press. Same with Black people. Not all of us are militant, anti-police, fear-mongering animals. We just have to be careful with who we trust, and how much. You see, I narrated my every move, kept my hands up in plain sight, and moved slowly, because I didn't want to give anyone a reason to make me the next trending hashtag.
I had considered recording/live streaming the traffic stop, but I didn't. Know why? I was afraid that the officer would assume that I was reaching for a weapon to use against him.
And, it's a damned shame. I should not have to feel like that. I should not have to be in survival mode, as opposed to "treat the officer with respect" mode. But, I have learned that sometimes, even that isn't enough.
I called hubby at work. He didn't answer, so I texted him. He asked me how I was. I rattled it off, and ended with, "I was afraid that I was going to get shot in front of our children."
Why? Why does that have to be a fear for me?
I messaged my girlfriends. There was the really funny joke about how did I not mess with the radar gun, and that's why I got a ticket (seriously, have you seen what I can do to electronics?!) They asked if I was OK. I was.
I told them my deepest fear about the stop.
Let me tell you how to kill a conversation.
But, it's not their fault. They don't move in the world that I move in. For them, getting stopped most likely means that they may (or may not) get a ticket, take defensive driving, and it's done. It's not that likely that any of them will be seen as a threat...not like I would. Not like I could.
And I hated to shove that reality in their faces...to push them so far out of their comfort zones. It was so unfair of me, but I know these ladies...they truly could not care less about my skin color. These ladies always assume the best of the people that they meet, until they have reason to believe otherwise. I can say, with much certainty, that it hurts them that people can be mean and hateful to me just because.
What do they say to that? What CAN they say to that?
I know that, had anything untoward happened, they would have been right there with my family, standing up for justice. Thankfully, they don't have to.
My hope is that it opens up conversations with their friends and families about how jack-ass stupid racism is. How prejudice can kill potentially beautiful relationships before they even have a chance to start. How it kills trust before it's even born. (Please do NOT tell me that racism doesn't exist. Please don't.)
So, let me wrap up with this:
If they ever say that I was combative, don't believe it.
If they say that I brandished a weapon, don't believe it.
If they say that I was high on drugs, don't believe it.
If they say that I was prostituting, don't believe it.
It's not so much that I fear for my life, it's that I fear for future of my children. I don't want for them to see their mother killed. I want for them to trust police officers. I want for them to understand that 99% of them are out to keep communities safe, and to protect them from the real bad guys. They must understand that it's the 1% that gets the press, and their ideas about people should never be tainted by THAT minority.
It's hard these days. To keep that brave face for them. To know that, because of where we live, they will most likely be seen as Black (and therefore, bad), not as the beautiful human beings that they are (you know, that 'One Drop Rule'? It exists). But, we'll keep fighting the good fight, hubby and me. And with a little help from our friends, we'll make it. And our kids will make the world better than it ever was.
For now, I'll wait the requisite 10 days, then request defensive driving. I'll go in person to the sub-station up the road from our house. I'll hold my breath when I walk in, but I'll do it. And, I'll handle my business.
I'll report back on that.
Happy Friday!
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