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It seems trite to say, “I could have been Jacob Blake,” but my own life has been continually flashing before my eyes from the moment I saw those 7 shots escape that officer’s gun in Kenosha.
Each time, the visual hits viscerally closer to home ... and to Seward County, Nebraska.
Each time, the visual hits viscerally closer to home ... and to Seward County, Nebraska.
Some who follow me may wonder why I’ve been so quiet here recently. Of late, it’s because I’ve been preserving my mental health, staying off of here & avoiding the continual loop of such videos on my feed.
(our society has a sick fascination with the destruction of Black bodies)
(our society has a sick fascination with the destruction of Black bodies)
The other reason for my silence is that in recent weeks, I took a much needed break from the daily nothingness of my waiting-for-sports-that-I-currently-cover-to-come-back reality.
That break meant going on an 11-state, 5,000-mile, solo cross-country drive out West (and back).
That break meant going on an 11-state, 5,000-mile, solo cross-country drive out West (and back).
The goals?
-Finding inner peace.
-Seeing parts of the country for the first time.
-Socially-distant visiting friends in cities along my path. (take that, Zoom!)
-Trying to complete a gargantuan task I once deemed impossible ... especially as a Black man.
-Finding inner peace.
-Seeing parts of the country for the first time.
-Socially-distant visiting friends in cities along my path. (take that, Zoom!)
-Trying to complete a gargantuan task I once deemed impossible ... especially as a Black man.
In mentioning this to several of my non-Black friends, I related that my No. 1 concern before leaving Chicago and embarking on my journey had nothing to do with mountain lions or bears or other forces of nature.
My primary concern was being stopped by the police.
My primary concern was being stopped by the police.
I didn’t even make it out of the Midwest. I was barely 24 hours into my trip before it happened.
Seward County, Nebraska. Mile marker 376 on Interstate 80 is where the lights went on and I was pulled over.
It was around mile marker 382 (six miles up the road) when I came across a hill, admittedly doing about 82 mph in the passing lane of a 75 mph zone. At the moment I saw the police vehicle sitting at the bottom of the hill, I eased back on my speed.
I passed it doing 73.
I passed it doing 73.
Instinctively, I looked in my rearview, expecting to see an immediate cloud of dust as the police SUV raced out of the median.
That’s just simply an expectation that you have as a Black man when you pass a police car, even if you’re a well-intentioned, law-abiding Black man.
That’s just simply an expectation that you have as a Black man when you pass a police car, even if you’re a well-intentioned, law-abiding Black man.
After about 20 seconds, I saw nothing in my rearview. I thought I was in the clear.
How wrong I was.
How wrong I was.
Some seconds later, after I had moved into the right lane, the SUV raced up in the left before suddenly slowing to keep pace with my dramatically lowered speed. I was behind a semi. I stayed there. For several miles the SUV flanked me, almost daring me to commit some violation.
Then, lights go on. My heart sank into my stomach. My stomach jumped into my throat.
And my parents, who I had been talking to throughout the ride, held their breaths on the other line of the phone as I said: “Yep. I’m getting pulled over. And I didn’t do anything.”
And my parents, who I had been talking to throughout the ride, held their breaths on the other line of the phone as I said: “Yep. I’m getting pulled over. And I didn’t do anything.”
When he approached on my passenger side, the gray-haired officer informed me he pulled me over because “in the state of Nebraska it’s illegal to go under the speed limit in the left lane.”
“OK,” I say.
“But, I don’t give tickets to out-of-state folks,” he adds.
“OK,” I say.
“But, I don’t give tickets to out-of-state folks,” he adds.
After examining my license and the rental car agreement, he asks me to step outside my vehicle and come to his car. He still has to issue me a warning.
Naturally, I don’t want to do that. So I face an internal dilemma: say nope, I’m not leaving my seat and risk him wanting to punish me for having the gall (let alone my natural, American-given right) to talk back? Or do I comply, stay calm, play this out and live to see tomorrow?
I’m still here.
When I start walking to the vehicle, another, much larger, much younger officer stepped out of the passenger seat of the SUV and asked me to sit there.
This time, I do speak up. “It’s OK, I can just stand right here” is all I say.
This time, I do speak up. “It’s OK, I can just stand right here” is all I say.
In my head, I was convinced I wasn’t getting in this car with these unmasked strangers with guns.
(Yes, during this entire exchange my mask was the only visible one)
He then cited the need for everything to be recorded, and my safety in the event of a collision from another car
(Yes, during this entire exchange my mask was the only visible one)
He then cited the need for everything to be recorded, and my safety in the event of a collision from another car
I had another dilemma. Once again, I chose the option I felt in that specific moment gave me the best chance of staying alive. With my phone in my hand and my parents silent but still listening on the other line, I got in.
My training as a conversationalist kicked in. In order to keep myself calm, I had to keep them calm. To keep them calm, I had to answer their questions with a half smile and a carefree attitude instead of with the rage that boiled over in this Taurean brain.
“Where you headed?”
“Oh, just going West. I’m bored at home and want to see the country.”
“West? Like a sabbatical or something?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Where are you staying on this trip?”
“Oh, with friends along the way.” (that was a lie, but why did he need that info?)
“Oh, just going West. I’m bored at home and want to see the country.”
“West? Like a sabbatical or something?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Where are you staying on this trip?”
“Oh, with friends along the way.” (that was a lie, but why did he need that info?)
“You must have a lot of friends. How‘s that possible?”
“Oh, I dunno (laughs). College and work, I guess.”
“Where did you go?”
“Northwestern.”
“Ah, good school. What do you do for work?”
“Cover sports for FOX Sports. I was actually in Lincoln for a game just last year ...”
“Oh, I dunno (laughs). College and work, I guess.”
“Where did you go?”
“Northwestern.”
“Ah, good school. What do you do for work?”
“Cover sports for FOX Sports. I was actually in Lincoln for a game just last year ...”
The other guy interjects, looking up from writing the warning: “So you’re on TV? I’ve never seen you before ...”
“Well, the sports I primarily cover now aren’t in season yet, and this pandemic ain’t helping ...”
A short time later, I was handed my “warning” and sent on my way.
“Well, the sports I primarily cover now aren’t in season yet, and this pandemic ain’t helping ...”
A short time later, I was handed my “warning” and sent on my way.
Yes, he wrote my full name wrong.
Anyway, part of the reason I’m so jarred by the shooting of Jacob Blake is because of the way the cops (clearly following some kind of training) were probing me and questioning me as if my Black body MUST have been doing SOMETHING wrong.
Anyway, part of the reason I’m so jarred by the shooting of Jacob Blake is because of the way the cops (clearly following some kind of training) were probing me and questioning me as if my Black body MUST have been doing SOMETHING wrong.
(“That’s a rental? It’s probably really expensive, huh?”)
Every question was part of their personal fishing expedition; an attempt to find me at fault in some kind of way; to force me to comply or risk the stop going awry.
And remember: I was stopped for driving 2 mph too slow!
Every question was part of their personal fishing expedition; an attempt to find me at fault in some kind of way; to force me to comply or risk the stop going awry.
And remember: I was stopped for driving 2 mph too slow!
Not sure how the thread got interrupted, but the rest: https://twitter.com/coleyharvey/status/1299018589572300805
