Out Here in the Middle: Confessions of a Cop-Loving, Black Lives Matter-Supporting, Liberal Middle-Class White Lady

Flashes of memories:

I am ten years old. I arrive at my friend Cindy’s house after school. Her mom babysits me (and sometimes my sister) after school pretty regularly. She takes me aside and sits me down. She tells me my dad has been shot at work, but he is going to be okay. I’ll be staying the night with them and I can see my parents soon. She tells me that if I want to scream, it’s ok. I don’t think I scream; at least, I don’t remember doing that. She hugs me.

My dad was a police officer. He was shot in the leg while responding to a distress call for backup from another police officer who was also a friend of his. The original 911 call was for a mentally unstable man who was shooting at random passers-by out of his kitchen window. The friend died. My dad lived. Survivor’s guilt is a real bitch, and it took him a long, long time to forgive himself for something that was most definitely not his fault.

Fast forward: I am 20 years old. I am a student at Humboldt State University in Humboldt County, California (yes, THAT Humboldt County). I am well on my way to becoming a Super Bleeding Heart Liberal hippie person. (Want a fun image? Picture me at approximately half of my current age. I am wearing a hemp necklace and I smell like patchouli. Naturally, I am also vegetarian at the time, and probably not wearing any makeup. Shaving/bra also kinda optional.) I am planning to join the Peace Corps after I graduate, so that I can personally save the world.

I attend a summer study abroad program in Grenada, a tiny island country in the Eastern Caribbean. The population there is largely descended from African slaves. Thus, there are very, very few white people who live there year-round; I’m sure its less than 5%, and probably not even that. I am at a pre-Carnaval celebration in a large venue in the city. I am there with the majority of the other students in the program (all Caucasian like myself, as I recall). We are surrounded by several hundred (if not more than 1000?) Grenadians. They are, of course, all Black. I have a brief but somewhat startling conversation in my head about it. It goes something like this, “I am surrounded by Black people. This is not a situation I have ever been in. This feels a little scary. Wait, why does this feel scary? Oh, it ISN’T scary. These people are all smiling and laughing and having a good time. Plus, they’re all, you know, just people. They are all staring at us because we kinda stick out, but it’s fine. It’s fine! Huh…”. I think this was the beginning of my personal understanding of what institutionalized racism actually means; for me, it was an initial gut reaction telling me to BE AFRAID of large groups of Black people, when that is clearly an irrational fear, and a racist one.

Well, I ditched the patchouli and the hemp jewelry, but I’m still pretty liberal these days. I DID join the Peace Corps. I did NOT save the world. I made a handful of really good friends and learned Spanish, along with a whole lot of other things. I have lived in several different places, and have done a fair amount of traveling. I enjoy having friendships with people from different walks of life, including a couple who definitely disagree with me on a lot of staple issues. This is challenging at times, but I think that it is important. I have lived in a few different bubbles in my life, but at least TRYING to maintain the balance keeps me from permanently loitering in my cozy Lib echo chamber.

To say that we have a great deal of racial and social tension in American right now seems like an understatement. This year has also been absolute hell for many, many people on various fronts, and, as a result, this country feels stretched to some sort of breaking point.

I went to a Black Lives Matter demonstration back in May. I want to support the Black Lives Matter movement because I understand that racism is deeply entrenched in American history, culture, and life, and that we do not live in a post-racial society, as many people seem to believe. Yes, I believe that police and all other lives matter as well; however, I believe that we do need to be paying special attention to the Black ones currently.

The demonstration was peaceful. There was definitely some anger expressed; however, laws were not broken, and participants were encouraged to head home before the city-imposed curfew at 8:00 pm. Many people (including myself) wore masks, and I even saw one woman going around offering people spray hand sanitizer. I was glad I was there, as another person to add to the numbers to create visibility for something I see as a very valid social issue. I definitely felt a bit silly and out of place, but I felt like my physical presence was important.

There was a woman standing in front of me holding a sign that said “BLM & ACAB”. I asked her what ACAB stood for. “All cops are bastards,” she responded. Obviously, I do not stand behind this sentiment, and you would probably have to shock me with a cattle prod or something to get me to hold a sign like that.

I felt utterly useless. Am I paradigmatically homeless? Clearly, I do not have a “side”. I suddenly felt completely disloyal to both my family AND our American communities of color, and most especially to my non-white friends. I felt bitterly jealous of all the people in America today who feel completely comfortable existing on one of the very polarized sides of this and any other social issue. “It must be easy for everything to be so black and white,” I think to myself (no pun intended there, sorry about that). I didn’t feel like I could really participate in any of the chants. I felt like a useless noodle. I drifted away as the demonstration broke up for the evening. I raised a hand in greeting to one of the police officers working the premises. I wondered how she felt about all this, and I considered going and checking in with her and the other police officers there, and asking them how they are doing. Clearly, I am some sort of alien.

It is now the year 2020 and obviously, most humans don’t know how to communicate with each other. Like, really communicate. Without screaming, pointing fingers, or flinging memes at one another. Or worse…much, much worse. We live in a ridiculously polarized society where emotional outbursts rule the day. Not, mind you, that emotional outbursts are not valid, real tangible things that are just the tip of some centuries-old icebergs. Unfortunately, however, they accomplish nothing. Nobody listens when you scream at them.

Nobody listens when you silent at them, either.

It is human nature to care the most about what directly affects you and those you love. To achieve change, it must appear relevant to the person choosing to participate in the change. And, I really think that in order to get someone to listen to you, you may need to listen to them first. Even if you disagree. Even if you’re incredibly uncomfortable. Even if you absolutely hate it.

This is a conversation that is happening in our country and we all need to participate. Please resist the urge to plug your ears, squeeze your eyes tightly shut, and scream, “LALALALALA!!!!!!!!!” at the top of your lungs if you feel stressed out. No matter what you believe, we clearly have an issue at hand and it’s OUR job to fix it.

So, here is my challenge to you (and me!): fight the urge to remain in your comfy bubble. Think that we live in a post-racial society? Please try finding some real live folks of color and asking them about their daily lived experiences in the United States, IF they are willing to share. There is real pain there, and white people need to hear it. Now, I know that many people and communities of color have expressed that they are really, really worn out and tired of trying to convince white people that racism (and especially the institutionalized kind, which is far more insidious) exists, and have asked that white people step up and do some of this work. However, I honestly don’t know how to convince people unless they hear it from the source.

Think that ACAB? Please try contacting your local police department and doing a ride-along. The hours are long, the job is dangerous, and the pay kinda sucks. Personally, I would love to do a ride along with a Black police officer; now THERE’S a perspective I want to hear.

Can we all just try listening to one another? Even if we DON’T understand? Even if we hate it, and are incredibly uncomfortable? Is that an option? Can you do that? Can I do that?

I think so.