The following is the opinion and analysis of the writer:
Nearly 38 years ago, I was stopped by a police officer in a small Texas town for having expired registration tags. I was 24, just back to work as a newspaper reporter after maternity leave and running late dropping my daughter to her sitter.
I pulled over and frantically explained that I would fix the registration after I got paid on Friday.
“Okay,” the officer said, “but I don’t want to see you driving until you have those tags.”
“Well, close your eyes then,” I remember sassing back, my new-mom sleeplessness coming through, “because I have to drive to work to get paid.”
Because I am white I had no consequence for the sass and drove off ticket-free.
Two days later, I again saw flashing lights.
“You gotta be kidding me,” I muttered to my (finally) sleeping daughter in her car seat.
I stuck my arm out my window and waved for the officer to follow me to my daughter’s sitter. He did, for more than a mile.
At the sitter’s, I was fetching my daughter from her car seat as the officer parked. He called out to me to get back in my car and I yelled, “In a minute!” over my shoulder as I ran up to the sitter’s front door, baby in tow.
Because I am white, he didn’t threaten me or even follow me to the sitter’s door. When I got back to my car, he lectured me on my registration and I again explained I couldn’t get them until Friday.
“Listen lady,” the exasperated cop said, “if I see you again without tags, you’ll get a ticket.”
On Friday morning, so clueless I didn’t think to find another route to my sitter’s, the same officer saw me driving to work.
He engaged his siren this time, and I pulled over, angry at what I perceived as harassment.
I jumped out of the car, threw my arms in the air and yelled, “Take me to jail! I won’t have the money until noon! But then you” – and here I pointed an accusatory finger at him – “need to get my baby to the sitter!”
Because I am white, he didn’t throw me against the hood of my vehicle or draw his weapon.
Instead, apparently finally comprehending the term “hormonal new mother,” the officer de-escalated, lowering his voice, holding his palms out in front of him and walking up to me slowly.
“Ma’am, just take a deep breath,” he said. “Get to work and get that tag today.”
I got paid at noon and was at the DMV by 12:15, tags in place shortly thereafter.
There’s zero doubt in my mind that if I was a black man, I would have been ticketed the first time. If I was a black woman, I might have received a pass the first time, but surely ticketed the second time, if not arrested for disobeying an order to get in my car. And any black person jumping out of a car when a cop has pulled them over would have seen the barrel of a pistol, if not the bullet inside.
That, class, is white privilege in action. My white skin allows me latitude in dealing with police and deep down I know that, so I’m not terrified every time I see a police cruiser.
Let’s compare that to Dominique Moore, a 33-year-old black man living in the Vail area with his lovely wife and three little boys. Every few weeks, his 60-something mother calls him and says, “Hey baby, they’re out there today. Just be careful.”
The “they” she’s referring to are traffic officers who sometimes show up on the roads in greater numbers.
This mother calls her adult son because she knows he’s is at risk of death when police are present. The facts are stark: black people are nearly 3 times more likely than whites to be killed by police and unarmed blacks are about 5 times more likely than whites to be shot by a police officer.
“It’s just normal for me,” Moore said, describing both to his mother’s protective phone calls and the cautiousness black people must have around law enforcement. “Black men have been dying by the police forever. It’s just getting more attention in the last week.”
Moore, a professional who graduated from Sabino High School and the University of Arizona, was referring to protests about the May 25 death of George Floyd. Floyd died after a police officer knelt on Floyd’s neck for nearly nine minutes while three other officers stood by.
Moore said he and his wife, who is white, know they’ll eventually have the first of many police talks with their three sons, twins who are 6 and their 4-year-old sibling. But right now, they want to protect their innocence and let them believe, as their favorite Michael Jackson song says, “It don’t matter if you’re black or white.”
“At some point we’ll have to explain to the boys that they’ll have to take care of themselves in a different way than a little white kid or even a grown white kid,” Moore said. “It will be a constant part of their life. I’ll have to tell them that they’ll have to think of situations differently than their white friends because the outcomes for them, if trouble happens, will not be the same as for the white kids.”
Imagine, dear white readers, having to live your life as if you will be blamed for whatever bad thing that happens — even if you had nothing to do with it. Imagine telling your child at the age of 10 or 12 that because he’s got dark skin, he has to be “extra good” so white people won’t call 911 when he walks down the street alone. Or explaining that they will be stalked by security guards and store salesclerks, just as their father is if he’s not with his white wife.
Imagine all that, dear white readers, then tell me you wouldn’t want to explode in rage.
“I don’t think there’s any way to be good enough (as a black man) to elevate your status with police,” Moore said. “If I were to get pulled over at night, I would fear for my life. But if I thought about that constantly, I would be just another angry black man. I couldn’t be in the right mental state for my work or family.”
Moore said it will take a lot more than protesting to end systemic racism but protesting gets people’s attention. Now that people are paying attention, he said, everyone needs to vote.
“People’s mentalities have to change about how this country treats black people. It will start with leadership from the White House and trickle down, hopefully. It’s going to take work from everyone, and everyone’s got to be on board, not just black people or white people. Everyone together.”
We face a choice as a country. White people can ignore the cries of our dying black brothers and sisters, complaining about the loss of property during protests while dismissing the loss of life at the hands of police. Or we can shut up, listen and learn that Black Lives Matter. Period.
