Serve & Protect…

I remember in my small days bouncing through the city of wind in my ’85 Chevy Monte Carlo. It was grey with duals and I had the chrome shoes on it. I was just a youngster at the precipice of life with my future ahead of me. I recall one Saturday morning…I was leaving my grandmother’s house and was heading west on 76^th Street when all of a sudden squad cars and flashing lights had cornered a brotha like I was Lonzo from Training Day. They snatched me out the whip, throw me on the ground and proceeded to cause havoc on my vehicle. They took everything out of the glove compartment, snatched out my whole f*ckin back seat and poured out my fresh bottle of Champale. They never spoke a word until they received a call from dispatch…then they picked me up and dusted my off like I was one of their drinking buddies. They apologized and said some bullsh*t about my car matched the description of another vehicle that was involved in a drive by. WTF??? My back seat was never the same…I‘d be at the lakefront with a young lady watching the sunset trying my damndest to take it to the next level when all of a sudden the f*cking seat would slide off. The next day I’m enjoying another scenic drive with the fam. We rolled past a couple of officers on 71^st & California when my cuzzo in the back decides to stick his tongue out at them. Three seconds later we’re surrounded by half the force with pistols drawn. They confiscated by bottle of Cordon Negro but made us pour out the case of Miller High Life.

Black men in America learn early in life not to f*ck around with the police…it’s a code or unwritten etiquette that cats learn soon enough. If the car is too shiny…they pullin’ your ass over…if the broad your rolling with is apparently too fine for you…they pullin’ you ass over…if your driving through the “upper class” part of the city and ain’t got no business…they pullin’ your ass over…hell, if it’s a nice sunny day…guess what…they pullin that ass over. There’s a fine line between unrelenting disrespect and protect and serve…black men just had to get in where they fit in. Cases like Sean Bell, Rodney King, or the dude that caught that beat down in Philly don’t surprise me…they only exist to further prove that police officers fear black men. It’s perception not racism that fuels the fear but sometimes we perpetuate it by riding around with no tags, music blasting and 30 dudes as passengers with no seat belt and a cloud of “ism” smoke coming out the window.

To tell you the truth, if I was a police officer I might’ve beaten a couple of cats down on the sly myself. I mean…they have families too and at the end of the day I want to go home and embrace my kids and smack my wife on the ass just like anybody else and I’ll be damned if I let one of them drive by shooters take my out over a random traffic stop. Hell, it’s either you or me and guess what…I chose me. There is no such thing as racial profiling because random search and seizure has nothing to do with the color of your skin…it’s the manifestation of fear. We have to convey to a society that at one time labeled us as beasts that we exist in many forms. Not every young black boy wants to grow up and emulate 50 Cent or march around with saggy jeans and a white tee. Most black boys want to grow up to be men….leave their footprint on the world and evoke the greatness of a once proud people.