This past summer I had the opportunity to take the class Police and Society at a Catholic university. My professor was a local, white police officer. My class consisted of myself, another Black female and two white guys. Our ages fell in the 20-50 range.
Professor informed us at the beginning of the class that we would be covering current events as well as the book. He told us that we represent society. I got to relive the shooting of Samuel Dubose in Cincinnati. I got to relive the death of Tamir Rice. I got to relive the Arizona officer who hit a Hispanic man with a gun and send him flying 30 or so feet. I learned that Black Lives Matter is considered a terrorist group. I learned that a person has no right to resist arrest. When arrested, one is supposed to submit and let the system do the work. Sure no problem. I learned that the police’s authority is primarily based on ‘use of force,’ either in the form of presence, tone of voice or even physical, up to and including deadly force. Police are the ‘use of force’ authority who protect and serve. This is where I first learned of Milwaukee County Sheriff David Clarke. I heard from him almost every week this summer. I didn’t know the man prior to this class, and I would have been perfectly fine if I could have remained ignorant of him. The controversy in this class was obvious from the start and the professor wanted us to debate our issues. I first thought that he was trying to learn something from us, and perhaps he did, it just wasn’t what he wanted. July was the turning point for me. I had kept quiet mostly because I don’t debate, I argue. That’s usually unacceptable in a college classroom. However, Philando Castille and Alton Sterling were shot in the same week, both having videos. Both garnering national attention. I had to relive those too. On the Thursday of that week, professor decided we should convene a grand jury on whether the officer who shot Castille should be indicted based on the facts that we know. Those facts: Castille was driving a car. The officer was looking for a suspect who had just robbed a store at gun point. The officer told Castille that he was being pulled over for a broken tail light. Castille informed the officer that he had a conceal carry permit and that the gun was in the car. Castille’s girlfriend and 4 year old child were in the car. When the live stream video opens, Castille has already been shot. When the girlfriend asks the officer why he shot, the officer says “I don’t know. I told him not to reach for it.” The officer claimed that Castille fit the description of the robbery suspect. Castille’s wallet was next to him, wedged between the seat and the arm rest. Castille’s arm, when reaching for the wallet was behind (or under) the seatbelt. Those are the facts known at the time of this “grand jury.” Did we indict? Of course not. It was split, two Black girls calling for indictment, two white guys saying no. Is anyone surprised? But wait this gets better. After the “grand jury,” we had further class discussions and I called the shootings of Sterling and Castille State sponsored murder. Professor was offended. I didn’t have the words to explain myself at that time (a common problem) and we moved on. Later that day, when I got off of work, I thought I should e-mail professor to at least clarify my statement. Seems a reasonable thing to do when you’ve offended someone. So I did. I attached a piece I wrote called “The Social Sin of Injustice” dealing with the killings of unarmed Black men and Black Lives Matter; I also included a Frederick Douglass quote in the body of the email: “If an unarmed colored man is shot down and dies in his tracks, a jury, under the influence of [prejudice], does not hesitate to find the murdered man the real criminal, and the murderer innocent” –1881. I woke up the next morning to the news that 5 officers in Texas officers had been gunned down in a sniper attack. Knowing the professor had a soft spot for fallen officers (he had been showing us a website dedicated to them), I immediately regretted sending that email. Six o’clock that evening, I received his reply: “If you want clarification, meet me before class next Thursday.” Instant fear. I called my fiancé and asked him to read it and asked how I should interpret it. “If you need me to go to class with you, I’ll be more than happy to go with you,” he said. The hairs on my neck raised. This is a local cop. I have to drive through his jurisdiction almost daily. He’s my professor! The following week, on Tuesday, I’m driving to work. I stop at a red light right behind an officer (not my professor’s jurisdiction). The light turns green and as soon as the cop pulls off, his lights and sirens come on. I hit my brakes, thinking What the fuck did I do? I’m paralyzed. The cop makes a u-turn and races up the road the other direction. My shoulders sag; I sigh and grab a cigarette. It’s not my turn I thought. The horn blowing made me realize that still hadn’t moved. As I traveled down the street, seeing a cop made me check my rear view mirror. I kept a close watch on my speed. I was scared. It turned out my fear was over exaggerated; professor just wanted me to know that using such language incites anger. But was it justified? Our last class before the final answered that question. On the board, professor wrote $400,000,000 and asked what its significance was. It was the amount of money the US paid to Iraq in exchange for hostages (of course the White House claimed it was an unpaid debt paid at an inconvenient time). From here he asks the class what the word ‘demands’ bring to mind. I said ‘terrorists.’ (Wouldn’t you, based on the context?) With that answer (that’s what he was looking for) he proceeded to bring up the Movement for Black Lives and the platform that they had recently released. I had read some of the platform, had even downloaded the provided brochures for parts I was highly interested in. It took me a while, but when he decided to take particular bullet points from one platform, I realized he was calling them terrorists! The sickening feeling that came to me that day was among the worst things I’ve ever experienced. Here I am, a supporter of Black Lives Matter and I’m being called a goddam terrorist! My fear was and is justified! Professor also went against protocol (police and college) and openly declared his support for Donald Trump. What do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO!? Me, I got the A to keep up my GPA. I write to spread the word. I learn and get to teach as I go along. That’s what I do. It may not seem like much, but revolutions don’t start out as a revolution. At the end of the summer, professor had the occasion to visit me at my job while he was on duty. It was a weird experience. He appeared extremely uncomfortable, almost nervous. “Hey professor,” I greeted him. “Hi, got a special order.” “Sure, no problem. What do you need?” “Could you put the Old Bay in the middle and on top please?” “Of course. By the way, our grades aren’t posted yet.” “I just posted them today, so they should be up soon.” “Cool. That was a crazy class and I’m so glad it’s over…no offense, of course.” “No, you’re right. Next time I’ll ask Frank to make it a block class, that way the classes are a little shorter. This last class got me rethinking my future career choices.” “I guess so. Police and Society this summer bought out the true controversy.” Red faced and nodding, he went on his way. I haven’t seen him since. Comments are closed.
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