There’s a national conversation about defunding the police that, for the first time in our nations’ history is actually being discussed, and in the case of Minneapolis (rightfully) implemented.
For those who choose to jump on the Meghan McCain train (e.g., in the same breath admit that you don’t know/understand the topic but automatically disagree), this blog post is not for you.
For those who are open to it, I have a story from my morning walk this morning.
So . . . I go on a walk almost every morning to at least get ten thousand steps in because the innanets once upon a time told me that that was the minimum to be healthy. So, I, in my big black body and my white tee and my red bandana normally walk almost the exact same path every day.
I avoid residential neighborhoods. I stay on the main streets. I have my face categorically uncovered because I am a big black man walking in an all white neighborhood at 5am . . . and mama, I want to live.
And all the privilege I have (cis-gendered, male, upper middle-class) won’t mean a hill of beans if the police decide that I’m a threat.
Just to be clear, I see the police every morning . . . patrolling the mean streets of Arlington, Virginia. Sure . . . I guess . . . but why?
I digress. On this here morning, I finished my walk, picked up my car and drove to Safeway. I greeted my aunties and was categorically ignored by almost everyone else. I did notice one other black man in the store . . . and I noticed because we are an endangered species in this area. I noticed, but continued my grocery shopping, checked out, and noticed that three police officers in Kevlar vests with big batons, guns and clipboards (?) were standing with the aforementioned black man just outside of the store.
One of the police officers said she had noticed me walking up and down the street (I’m sure you did) . . . that’s not fair. I’m angry . . . she was actually fairly nice.
I walked to my car, put up my groceries, and walked back to return my cart. Now, I had to pass through this little huddle to put my cart back. Noticing this, the kind police officer said that I could leave it next to her and that she would return it. I politely told her it wouldn’t be a problem. I cut through whatever was going on, put the cart up, and walked to my car which gave me a front row seat to what was happening to this black man.
I knew I couldn’t leave. So I didn’t. I didn’t move. I stayed put. And I watched.
The very skinny black man looked dejected and hopeless. He had a small suitcase and looked like he might have been talking to himself, but in all honesty, I was too far away to hear the conversation unfortunately.
It’s okay. I could see the police, and they could see me. Watching.
The police ultimately wrote the man what looked like a citation on a yellow piece of paper and let him go.
I finally breathed.
Let’s stop here. If this amounted to a citation, why were three police officers needed? Why were three armed, kevlar-chested police officers needed? To me, this man needed a hot meal and a shoulder to cry on. I imagine, although I am only guessing here, that he probably stole something out of the store . . . because he was probably hungry.
To go back to the conversation re: defunding the police . . . some money can and should be taken away from some police districts (that receive sometimes upwards of one third of municipal budgets) to fund food kitchens and social services. This man didn’t need to encounter the police today . . . he needed someone “armed” with the knowledge and tools to properly and carefully help someone who is homeless and hungry. If he stole food . . . sure it is a crime. Should he have to deal with the trauma of thinking/believing that he might possibly be breathing his last breath over some bread? Not at all! This is the rallying cry around defunding the police.
. . .
So I drove off. And as I drove off, all the police officers turned to stare at me - knowing that I was there specifically to bear witness.
The only thing I will say here is that I am disappointed in literally every person, all of whom were white, who walked into the store without so much as blinking. No one stopped. No one expressed concern. No one bore witness. It was just me.
In June of 2020 in the wake of an 8 minute 46 second video showing the lynching of a black man with multiple police officers simply watching, my expectation is that everyday citizens have a little bit more empathy when it comes to the extremely fraught relationship between black folks and the police. Something as simple as stopping and watching could mean the difference between life and death.
Not. One. Person. Stopped.
Nobody.
It’s only 8am . . .
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