I’m a liberal progressive, an espouser and advocate for reforms that engender a more equitable and inclusive society, one that provides for the needs of traditionally marginalized groups of Americans. I support a fifteen dollar per hour minimum wage and I want millionaires and billionaires pay their fair share of taxes. I am in favor of stringent gun control measures, LGBTQ civil rights, expanded family leave, Black Lives Matter, Medicare for All, robust immigration, and a strong safety net. I think traditional conservatism creates a breeding ground for avarice, exclusion, stasis, and abject humiliation. And with Trump as the chosen leader of modern conservativism, the movement is now being coopted by all kinds of haters — racists, conspiracy theorists, and misogynists.
The haters — the conservative party — want to use the police force to maintain their preferred status quo, a society where traditionally disenfranchised groups of people remain “in their places”, deathly afraid to speak up for themselves for fear of retribution.
I can remember my first negative encounter with law enforcement. The year was 1988, it was summer, and I was restless. I was barely twelve years old, hitherto unaware of the danger that police officers posed to young black males.
David, my best friend at the time, and I were playing Cops and Robbers. After about fifteen minutes of lying in wait, I slowly emerged from behind a bush in front of the corner house. After a quick reconnaissance of the area, I surmised that the coast was clear, and began to traverse the adjacent yards of the homeowners.
The sun’s rays were raining down on me, causing sweat to trickle down my face, back, and abdomen. My T-shirt stuck to the sweat on my chest, slick underpants were sliding down my bottom, and my underarms were musky. My throat was parched too. However, those were concerns that I had to push to the periphery of my mind, as I had a job to do. Heat and sweat were not going to prevent me from achieving my ultimate goal: “killing” David, who occupied the role of the robber.
Skulking like the creature Gollum from Lord of the Rings, I tiptoed my way down the block, gripping my toy gun tight. Everything was quiet save for a slight wind and the rumble of an approaching car. After a few more steps, the car’s imposing shadow overtook my own. An alarm went off inside of me, notifying me of imminent danger. I turned my head in the direction of the white cruiser, knowing that I was being followed.
The cruiser halted, engine still purring.
A police officer, an average sized and middle aged man, with hair that was retreating from the top of his forehead, exited his car. He drew his gun from his holster, resting both of his arms on top of his cruiser. He maintained a firm grip on his firearm, his finger resting on the trigger. The muzzle was pointed in my direction. Fear flooded my bloodstream in the subsequent moments, freezing me where I was.
“Stay where you are,” he said, sounding irritated. “Don’t move from that spot.”
I was already stuck in place. I wasn’t going anywhere, though my knees felt as if they were going to buckle beneath me.
“Listen to me. I want you to place the gun on the ground. Do it slowly.”
It took almost all that I had to move my limbs so that I could comply. I bent down, gently placing the gun on the sidewalk. Then I stood up straight, with my hands raised in the air. My breath had left me.
He inhaled a breath. “Good,” he said, still wary. “Now get down on the ground, face down, and spread your arms and legs out to the sides. Do that slowly too.”
I did what he asked of me.
My face was pressed down onto the pavement, but I could hear and feel his footsteps coming toward me. My heart was pounding the whole time, as I was resisting the urge to empty the contents of my bladder right then and there.
He reached down and grabbed for the gun. A few agonizing seconds passed.
“All right then. You can stand up now.”
And then I was able to breathe again. The fear was beginning to ebb, the warmth was returning to my limbs, replacing the cold. I got to my feet, with a tepid assurance that I was probably going to get out of this situation alive. I was still in shock though, trembling from it.
I snuck a look at the officer’s face. It was pensive as he examined the gun. I wanted to ask why he had reacted so severely, but thought it more prudent to remain silent.
The lantern jawed police officer was still working with the fake gun when he said: “There should be a red circle on the muzzle of this gun. You should get one of those for the next time.” And with that he dropped the gun in my hand, stepped into his police cruiser, and drove off without leaving an apology. As I watched him round the corner in his cruiser, I made a silent vow to never play Cops and Robbers again.
I went to find David.
***
That would not be my last adverse confrontation with the law enforcement, as I have be tasered and humiliated by coppers in Portland, stalked by security guards in various department stores in Boston, and nearly offed by multiple police officers in my hometown of Denver. I must admit that police officers acted aggressively towards me because they assumed that I was a danger to myself and others. Perhaps I was, in one particular case. But in the majority of these unfortunate encounters, it was my survival instinct — remain calm in the midst of a heightened situation — that saved me from losing my life.
If there is anyone who should want the police departments defunded, it should be me. I heartily support police reform, and would encourage the redistribution of federal and municipal funds into social programs that are designed to alleviate crime in our society. But I am hesitant to echo the “defund the police” mantra that is being put forward by many progressives today.
One of my friends is a pragmatic progressive, a supporter of moving society forward to meet the demands of a rapidly changing country, but in a more incremental manner. She is also curious about what the other side is thinking, so she listens to National Public Radio and watches Fox News in order to glean the grander context of the civilization in which we now live. One Sunday afternoon, she called me, radiating anger and frustration through my receiver.
“It just really grinds my gears,” my friend said.
“It grinds your gears?” I asked, giggling.
“Yeah it does.”
“Ha! You sound like an old person!”
“That’s because I am an old person. And you know that you are too.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“Why are progressives screaming about defunding the police?! Defund the police? Are you kidding me?! What are they talking about? Are they trying to lose the next couple of elections? How do they think defund the police is going to play with moderate voters in Pennsylvania, Michigan, and North Carolina? A lot of those people voted for Biden. They don’t want to hear anything about defunding the police.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right about that.”
“You know what “defund the police” means to moderate democrats and republicans? You know what images come to their minds? Pictures of lawlessness, anarchy, a civil society breaking down into warring tribes. They think it’s going to be like that movie you love. What’s the name of that movie?
“Yeah, I don’t know what movie you’re talking about.”
“Yes you do. You know, it’s that movie with Charlize Theron and Tom Hardy. The remake of that movie with Mel Gibson.”
“Oh. You mean Mad Max: Fury Road?”
“That’s the movie. Lawlessness, disorder. That’s what moderates think about when they hear defund the police.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“People want order.”
“I know they do. And can I add that many black people are very moderate too. Of course we want the police to treat us better. I mean we’re tired of our people, our fathers and mothers, and our children getting killed by cops. But most black people think that we still need the police. We don’t want the police to go away.”
“Exactly. Black people want order too.”
“Perhaps they can call it by another name? Like reform?”
“As long as whatever they decide to do to improve the police is not preceded by the word defund.”
***
In the wake of the killing of George Floyd, the Minneapolis City Council announced its intention to defund the Minneapolis Police Department, a bold declaration borne out of extreme emotion. Minneapolis has already started to restructure the police budget, reapportioning more than a million dollars into the health department in an effort to quell violence. Their ultimate goal is to break down the current iteration of the Minneapolis police department before remaking it in a new image, reflecting the demands put forward by progressives.
The city of Camden, New Jersey has already instituted its reform model, uprooting the previous version of the police department and replacing it with a more progressive force. Camden has actually increased the number of street cops while cutting the number of excessive force complains.
So, defunding the police is not about completely excising the police department from society. It’s about restructuring and improving police, creating a protective force that is on good terms with the community it serves. Sounds like an effort that I could get definitely get behind.
They just have frame the policy in a more palatable way, perhaps moderating the language to make it sound less threatening to more skeptical members of society.
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