Ferg

I was 11 or 12 when my Dad first talked to me about how to deal with police. I forget what exactly prompted the lecture, but I remember him giving my brother and myself a quick rundown of what to do if we were to find ourselves face to face with a fucking pig with a badge an officer of the law.

 

"It's 'yes sir no sir' for everything the police officer says."

 

"What if it's a girl?"
 

"Don't be a smartass." I've been a smartass since forever. "Yes sir, no sir. Face him with your hands at your sides, and don't move your hands unless he tells you to put them in the air."

 

"Like I just don't care?" Oh, me. I was so Raven before That's So Raven.

At the time I thought this talk was akin to the ones ol' Pop-Pop had given in regards to speaking to elders, teachers, the Pope, etc. An etiquette type thing. It didn't cross my mind until I was much older that he was genuinely concerned that my lack of officer talkin' finesse could get me arrested or killed. Luckily I have only had a handful of cop encounters in my life, none of which have ended with me dying in a hail of gunfire. Good job Dad!

 

The underlying issue of my Father's warning was that people would treat me differently because of the color of my skin. And the silky smoothness of my skin. Go ahead, touch it. No, really, touch my skin. C'mon, touch it. See? Fucking smooth, right? I know, it's crazy. Who wouldn't want to oppress this skin, na' mean? 

 

I digress.

 

There have been times where I am very conscious of the fact that I am a minority. When I get followed around a grocery store by employees, when I walk past a woman gripping her purse with all her might, when I get pulled over while walking, I generally assume that my skin had something to do with the matter. While the above examples totes suck whenever they happen, they do not happen to me as often as they did to my Father when he was my age. And they certainly do not carry the same viciousness as when my Grandpa was my age.

 

I feel ambivalent talking about dealing with prejudice because, while I feel the effects on a daily basis, such prejudice serves as little more than a nuiscance. I'm not being barred from entering establishments and I can whistle at white women to my heart's content without fear of retribution. Like, they can tell me to fuck off but I don't have to worry about them lynching me, y'know? Nothing that happens to me is really all that bad, and other ethnicities have their own little racial obstacles they must navigate during their day to day.

 

On the flipside, I find it frustrating that some people refuse to belive such prejudice even exists. They Quantum Leap around American history, highlighting the kick-ass freedom parts whilst glossing over the Trail of Tears, Japanese internment, and the death of Emmett Till. They see a large percentage of blacks in prison, but don't see that for similar offenses to white men black men recieve harsher sentences.

 

I had a co-worker ask me (paraphrasing) "If racism is still around, then why do white people think Michael Jordan is the greatest basketball player ever? If they were really racist wouldn't they call Larry Bird the greatest?" Can't see the forest for the trees.

 

I don't know what happened in Ferguson on August 9, 2014. I do know that it is a pretty stupid idea to get into a physical altercation with an armed police officer, and I do know that a police officer shooting an unarmed man six times is doing a shitty job of being a police officer. I also know that Mr. Brown's complexion only served to expedite his demise. I understand the anger of the black community. I don't agree with the looting or Al Sharptons of the world, but I understand the anger.

 

From my paternal grandfather, to my Dad, to myself, I can see the anger dissipating. My progenitor's have every right to remain indignant until the day they die, for they lived through injustice the likes of which I literally cannot fathom. And I'm great at fathoming shit. However, for myself, my generation, our barriers are not as omnipresent. Racism is still prevalent, but it no longer has a death grip on our lives.