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I was born in a country with a strong authoritarian government, but I only witnessed police harassment when my family immigrated to the United States.
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My first experience, which was mild, was almost immediate upon our arrival. My dad was walking me to school and – I surmise because we were new and black, because my dad is rather tall, and because Americans don’t walk enough for their health – we were stopped by police.
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The officer asked where we were going. Wtf? #1
My dad started to answer but was interrupted. Wtf? #2
The officer turned to me to answer. Wtf? #3
In a very matter of fact way, I said, “School.”
The officer then asked me if my dad was my dad. Wtf? #4
Of course,” I said.
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My dad started to answer but was interrupted. Wtf? #2
The officer turned to me to answer. Wtf? #3
In a very matter of fact way, I said, “School.”
The officer then asked me if my dad was my dad. Wtf? #4
Of course,” I said.
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When we got going again, I could feel my dad was quite agitated and more so later when he recounted the ordeal to my mom. (I would only understand what had actually happened much later.) This happened in Very White Very Liberal
Claremont, California.
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Claremont, California.4/
Like I said at the outset, this was a mild experience and my first. There would be more, less-mild episodes. You’re not entitled to know them. Suffice it to say that, when a POC friend tells you anything about anything you don’t have experience with, just believe them.
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If you’ve ever mused about my privilege as a child of academics... If you wondered what concerns I could possibly have... know that my dad’s PhD did nothing to shield him from monitoring and harassment by cops who probably would have flunked his introductory History courses.
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