White Shield

      Yesterday, Lady Justice winced under her blindfold.  A lot of people - myself definitely included - expected Officer Michael Slager to be convicted of murder.  The evidence was overwhelming, and the entire country has seen it by now: two separate videos show the White police officer chasing Walter Scott - an unarmed Black man - and shooting him in the back multiple times before deliberately planting false evidence.  Yet one of the jurors apparently "could not in good conscience" give guilty verdict, and Slager was granted a mistrial.  Walter Scott did not receive the justice he deserved.

R.I.P. Walter Scott

      I will not use this space to go into the blatant nature of this failure of the justice system.  I will only say that if we take Slager at his word that he shot Mr. Scott because he was "afraid for his life," then his level of fear was nothing short of delusional paranoia.  Anyone with that extreme disconnect from reality should be court mandated to receive intensive psychotherapy, and be prohibited from ever again owning any sort of weapon.*  Fortunately, the prosecution will likely move for a new trial, rather than letting the matter drop.  Additionally, Slager faces new federal charges within the next month or two.  This isn't over yet.
      This morning I was listening to "The Takeaway," a news analysis show on NPR.  There was a brief segment on the mistrial.  The radio host John Hockenberry, said: "When I watch that video, I feel as though my safety as a citizen is compromised by the idea that someone who one moment can say, 'I'm fearing for my life,' and the next moment is covering up evidence...."
      And it hit me: with all of these police shootings, I have been feeling anger--but never fear.
      This realization has forced me to ask myself some uncomfortable questions.  It never occurred to me that I could be the victim of police brutality.  Not once.  But why not?  In my youth, before I understood the reality of pervasive racial prejudice in law enforcement, I believed that a person had to go looking for trouble.  I was raised to believe that police went after Bad Guys, and since I wasn't breaking a law, I had nothing to fear.**
       So does that mean that I believed the Black population was more prone to crime?  I went to a progressive high school and pursued sociology and psychology from my first semester in college.  I'd heard plenty of statistics about the disproportionate drug use and arrest rate among ethnic minorities in this country.  I'd also been taught that ethnic minorities were far more likely to live in poverty, attend inadequately funded schools, and live in violent neighborhoods.  In my mind, it was these external factors that pushed people to break the law.  Of course I had heard that police targeted and even harassed Black men.  I'd heard the phrase "Driving While Black."  I remember seeing the Rodney King beatings on television.  But I didn't really believe it; I was indoctrinated with the idea that only criminals have anything to fear from police.

Police are my friends, right, McGruff?

      Experience, education, and empathy overcame that misconception.  Little by little, I began to see and comprehend the truth.  I am sure there are more depths of truth for me to experience, which is part of why I write this blog.  Today I was made newly aware of the depth of my internalized White Privilege, and it shocked me.  Even when I watched a video of a police officer chasing an unarmed man and shooting him to death, I never once experienced a moment of fear for myself. From the first, I instinctively - unconsciously - knew that I wasn't at risk.  It's not that I thought to myself, "Well, I'm not Black, therefore I don't have anything to worry about."  I didn't think at all.
      My gut knew the truth long before my brain pieced it together, with all the logic and language of social justice.
      When I contemplate the possibility of experiencing police violence myself, it's within the context of protesting.  Like the heroes at Standing Rock, I reason that if I put my body on the line - perhaps literally on the line - then I face the possibility of injury or even death.  Figuratively speaking, it becomes more probable when I paint a target on my body--whereas a person of color in the U.S. has skin interpreted as an unwanted target every single day.  Bizarrely, it means putting myself in a position to experience brutality at the hands of law enforcement is a privilege.
      On Saturday, I will be teaching a public class in the community on how and when to intervene in a hate crime.  I suspect this training will not go as many of the participants are hoping, but one thing I will be pointing out is that a White person - especially a White man - is simply less likely to be assaulted if they insert themselves between an aggressor and a victim.  That does not mean it's always the most effective thing to do.  But it is true...it is true.




*That's IF we take him at his word.  I'm pretty sure I don't.

**To be clear, I still believe the majority of police officers go into law enforcement for the best possible reasons.  I believe most are wonderful people who want to do the right thing.  I also believe that many officers are good people who are unaware of their racial prejudices--I base this on the fact many of my personal acquaintance are good people, and they are unaware of their racial prejudices, just I have been in the past.

When News Hits 1.1

      As more information about the murder of Paul O'Neal comes forward, people have - understandably - reacted with grief, and confusion, and anger.  They have also reacted with defensiveness, which is also understandable.  It's just also very sad.  When people feel defensive, they are the least likely to listen to others, or empathize, or learn.
      I just feel sick.  Over the weekend I was visiting extended family, watching the news, and when I saw the body camera videos being played I wanted to vomit.  I felt terribly sad for Mr. O'Neal and his family.  Imagine having a loved one killed, and then seeing a video of it broadcast all over the nation, showing the fear and chaos surrounding his death?  How can one possibly endure such a public horror?  The only thought that would keep me sane is if I believed that justice would ultimately be served.

I cannot begin to imagine what it would be like to be in Briana Adam's place, and I pray that nobody else ever will be. Photo Source: http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/breaking/ct-fatal-police-shooting-video-of-paul-o-neal-released-photos-20160805-photogallery.html

      I think it's our duty as compassionate human beings to see that justice is served for all of these wrongful, clearly race-related deaths.
      I had a brief but interesting discussion with my family after the clips were played.  The officers behavior was roundly condemned, for several reasons, including a few I hadn't even thought of.  It was pointed out that when they opened fire at the car they were being reckless on several counts, including the risk of injuring the driver  and having him cause further damage with his vehicle, and also the idiocy given their positions, since the officers themselves were in the crossfire.  Then there's the question of whether the driver's actions justified being shot to begin with.  Even if he intentionally tried to hit an officer with the car, does that equate the use of lethal force?
      One item brought up was the necessity of identifying potential "hot heads" before admission into the police academy.  As a psychologist, I don't know if that's really possible, but it sure as hell sounds like a good idea to me--can we screen for racist bias, too?  How about propensity to develop racist bias?  How about vulnerability to peer pressure, spoken or otherwise?
      The one thing we did not discuss at length was how race played a part in Paul O'Neal's death.  I asked right out, "Would the officers have opened fire if the suspect was White?"  A few comments were muttered, and then the subject was dropped.  My assessment was that my family - who had come together to enjoy themselves, support one another, and feel the replenishment of togetherness - did not want to risk such a charged topic.  I didn't push it.  I feel a little disappointed in myself that I didn't have the courage and fortitude to press the matter.  At the time, however, I told myself that there would be future opportunities.
      And that's the sad, horrible truth.

Creating Space to Grow

      I'm not going to lie: starting this blog is making me feel more nervous than I expected.  Part of that may be because I'm not really super tech savvy, so I'm kind of waiting to do something wrong.  Part of it may be embarrassment because I always wonder at my hubris whenever I think somebody else should care about stuff I have to say.  But honestly, a big part of it is the inspiration behind this blog: to write about race, prejudice, politics, and growth.
      These are very hot topics.  The odds of me not offending somebody are pretty low (more likely I'll offend several somebodies).  I'm worried I'll get in trouble, somehow.  I'm worried I'll get major internet Trolls on my ass.  I'm worried I may lose friends, or create friction in my family.  I'm worried I'll look like a coward (I am starting off anonymously, after all--that may change, but for now I'm keeping my real name under wraps).  I'm worried this will make it harder for me to realize some of my dearest ambitions.  I'm even worried this may somehow impact my job, and my career means more to me than I can say.
      And here are the kickers: a) I don't think that this blog is going to be that big, and b) I'm White.

      Imagine if I were writing this and I wasn't White.
      That's the thought that keeps me going.  That, and something a person I respect very deeply said to me during a conversation about racism.  He said that he had given up his grand vision of what he thought he should be doing to disassemble racism, because he realized it was unlikely to happen.  Rather, he had recognized and embraced his own talents, and decided to use them as effectively as he could.  That resonated with me.  Yes, I think that if I really got off my ass and worked on it I could put together big marches through my state capitol.  But I also think that my real talent lies with words, in loquacity if not in eloquence.  I also think I have a talent for understanding people.  So here's my attempt to use my talents to make a difference.
      I did not intend to start this blog like this.  I'd actually written out a thoughtful, meaningful post to get the ball rolling.  But I plan to make myself uncomfortable in this blog, because real growth requires pushing oneself to go outside one's comfort zone.  So I'm starting off very raw, and very real.  This is me, being nervous, and feeling kind of stupid, and pushing ahead anyway.  I'll do the well-thought-out post next time.
      Hopefully you'll still be reading.