Warning! Graphic Content:
Hello. My name is DéRonté Polite and I distrust the police. I really want that to change.
I understand that there is a narrative out there, somewhere, that the media has played a very pivotal role in me feeling this way. I must be honest with you—my feelings about the police have nothing to do with the media. They have nothing to do with Michael Brown, Walter Scott, or Oscar Grant. The hip-hop culture has not influenced my thoughts or feelings. No, it is my own experiences or the experiences of those very close to me that have been the catalyst in developing my distrust of the police.
When I was a young kid spending the summer in Philadelphia someone tried to break in my aunt’s house in the middle of the day while myself and my cousins were there. The guy was actually lifting his leg to step in through the window when my cousin just so happened to be lifting the blinds at the same time; not expecting to be looking eye to eye with the would-be burglar. Frantically my other cousin called 911—the police never came. The seed of distrust was sown.
As a young child growing up in eastern North Carolina I remember having an older cousin who was pulled over by local sheriff deputies because he had out-of-state tags. A deputy noticed the out of state tags while my cousin was traveling 55 mph in one direction as the deputy was traveling at a similar speed in the other direction. After tailing him for 10 miles, five deputy cars pulled him over and ordered him to throw his keys out of the window. He then had to get out of the car and when he turned his back, he was rushed to the ground and was told that he was stopped because of his out-of-state tags. With a knee to his back and a shotgun to his head, his car was searched with many of his items being discarded on the side of the road. He did not receive a ticket. He did not receive help returning his items to his car. Three different lawyers said there was nothing he could do about it. Even as a serviceman his complaints to the military were met with, “I’m glad you complied—they did nothing wrong.” The seed was watered.
As a young adult finishing my last semester of Bible college in the state of Missouri, I was pulled over because the license plate frame covered up too much of the plate. My cousin was riding shotgun and had a red stain on his old hoodie that he was wearing. One officer asked about the stain and the other officer answered, “I know what that is. He was beating the back out of his girlfriend last night and she was on her period.” They laughed. We were shocked and disgusted.
Furthermore, though neither of us smoked anything, legal or illegal, and though there were no signs that we did, we were repeatedly asked if we smoked weed. There were no signs of any drug paraphernalia nor was there the potent and distinct smell of marijuana, yet we were asked over and over, “Are you sure you don’t smoke weed?” They smiled, chuckled, and laughed. It seemed like a game to them. It was a nightmare to us. We felt powerless. I did not receive a ticket. The seed was in full bloom.
I know all police officers are not bad, but my experience as a law abiding citizen has me extremely cautious. I know that they are needed and I respect the fact that they literally lay their life on the line while performing their job function. I appreciate their duty, yet I hope to never encounter them in any capacity. I hope to never need them, yet one day I will probably have to call them. I want to trust them, but my encounters with them, in different states and regions across the United States of America, keeps me immensely reluctant. I was extremely sad about the police killings in Dallas and Baton Rouge, as I was with the killings of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile.
So, to you out there who dumbs down my thoughts and feelings by attributing them to media gullibility; I am sorry, but the media is not at fault for my distrust of police. If anything, it has been the times that the media highlights the good that the police do that has affected me in a positive way. I retweet those moments as often as I come across them (like this story here). Those moments give me hope.
My name is DéRonté Polite and I distrust the police. But one day, may trust go from a skeptical hope to a sober reality.
Grace and peace.
