OFFICER BY ANONYMOUS BLACK POLICE OFFICER

A Line Between Black and Blue: The Struggles of Being a Conscious Black Police Officer by Anonymous Black Police Officer

The first thing that I would like to say about being in this line of work as a Black person is that coming in the door, I’m viewed as the enemy. First, an enemy of my people—those who look like me—but also of those who run the police department, white people. For the most part, if they had their druthers, Black folks would never have been able to be police officers. Knowing that, it can be said that I’m working for my open enemy and against those who look like me and the Black community. Just being conscious of these things from the very start creates an internal struggle for me. Working in the police district or precinct as a conscious Black officer is like being in an enclave in which I am different from all the other police officers around me, and even a lot of the officers who look like me. Working with “non-conscious” Black officers is a struggle and at times is extremely problematic for me. The rapper Ice Cube of the N.W.A. once said, “Black police showin’ out for the white cop,” in the song “F*ck tha Police.” There are other examples as well, like KRS-One’s “Black Cop.” The issue of the Black police officer trying his hardest to prove that he or she can fit in, or can be a part of the “Good ole boys’ club,” proves very problematic because, like a puppy attempting to please its owner, these non-conscious Black officers are willing to do just about anything—no matter how detrimental to their people or their career—under the direction of their “white owner.” I once had an officer who was of mixed race, Black and white, tell me that if he sees a “young looking” Black person, particularly a man, in a “nice” or expensive car, he pulls them over. As if Black people cannot have a “nice” vehicle without being a drug dealer or some other type of criminal, as this officer was insinuating—and by the way, although he was of mixed race, the world sees him as a Black man. This type of skewed worldview is in complete opposition to mine as a conscious Black officer, and it hits differently when it comes from someone who looks like me. There have been situations where I have had to intervene—times when the “heavy hand” of a Black officer was coming down on or doing bodily harm to another Black person in the community, as well as situations when I had to step in because a white officer was doing the same, while other Black officers stood around and did nothing. Having the knowledge and understanding from whence this behavior comes—fear of white people, and hate for our own—is definitely a part of being a conscious officer that proves a struggle. My main concern as a conscious Black police officer and as a man is Black people and our wellbeing. When working in our communities and witnessing the violence, disenfranchisement, and most of all, deprivation— which some would say is the main cause for most of these struggles—I know that if we just had agency and congruence, things would begin to change. If only I could yell from the corners on a soap box—if only it were that simple. In some ways, I do stand on corners, minus the physical soap box. I talk to my people in the community; I attempt to build a genuine grassroots rapport

with the people. It takes time, patience, and lack of fear to get out and talk with the people to show them that, hey, all cops aren’t a monolith, and in doing so, I as an officer find out the same—that not all Black folk dislike the police—but I will say it takes work, and I’m here for it. There’s a quote from Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man where he says, “I do not know if all cops are poets, but I know that all cops carry guns with triggers” (Ellison, 1952/1995). And I get that; I understand that point of view because, when I remove my uniform, I go back to being “just another Black man” that can be shot by the police, unseen for being the complete being that I am, or just a threat or criminal. I have felt and understand as a Black man that feeling or sense of not being seen; the feeling of not mattering. I can relate. I can recall sitting outside one of the neighborhood high schools in the inner city, which has been greatly gentrified by whites, to attempt to make sure no violence or criminal acts would go on when the students were released from school at the end of the school day. It was interesting to see the white folk from the nearby and surrounding gentrified area just walking by as nothing were happening, while we the police had to break up fights and prevent shootings between Black students. I would watch them walk on by and not bat an eye, minding their own business—not out of fear, but just as if we in the Black community didn’t exist. Or thinking, “This is just what ‘they’ do.” Ellison also said, in Invisible Man, I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless

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you see sometimes in circus sideshows, it is as though I have been surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me, they see only my surroundings, themselves, or figments of their imagination—indeed, everything and anything except me. (1952/1995) But with all that being said, I’d be remiss if I didn’t express my anger and dismay with my own people, community, and behavior at times. It hurts me to have to drive around and patrol the same communities that I live in to attempt to prevent not only violent crimes, but just what we call quality of life crime. For example, when crowds of people gather on the front steps or porch of an elderly person, who most likely is scared to come outside of their home. Or when guys double-park in the middle of the street and have the audacity to dare someone to honk their horn and ask them to move, which in many cases in a city like mine, where we have already surpassed a 500 murder count, can lead to a shooting and possibly a homicide over something as small as a parking spot! Yes, this is a struggle for a conscious Black officer, and should be for anyone who has to endure this situation. The glares and stares that I get while driving around make me feel like a fish in a bowl, as if folks have never seen a Black police officer before. And yes, I know, it’s looks of contempt for me; I’m not confused at all. And then, I have interactions with white people that are completely different—meaning civil, respectful, and in some cases, pleasant, even in times of despair. As a conscious Black police officer, this hurts. It hurts because I want the same response from and connection with my own people. I understand where the disconnect and the strained relationship between the police and the Black community comes from; we all do. The violence, survival

tactics, the self-destructive and self-hating behavior in the Black community that we see—it all has an origin. And as a conscious Black officer, I know these behaviors are responding to the unfortunate subpar conditions that were created for Black people, which have sparked the ill will, distrust, and violence toward each other as Black people, as well as the submission and, some might say, love for white people, their culture, and value system. What a person or people value will in turn dictate their behavior. In the book Black on Black Violence by Amos N. Wilson, the subtitle reads, The Psychodynamics of Black Self-Annihilation in Service of White Domination. That’s it exactly—the continuous psychological struggle and hold on the Black community and the feeling of hopelessness and inability to fight back. Wilson states, The violently oppressed react violently to their oppression. When their reactionary violence, their retaliatory or defensive violence, cannot be effectively directed at their oppressors or effectively applied to their self-liberation, it then will be directed at and applied destructively to themselves. He also explains, “Black men kill each other because they have not yet chosen to challenge and neutralize on every front the widespread power of White men to rule over their lives.” Having knowledge of all of these different components that contribute to the struggle in the Black communities I serve, and knowing the only real way to fix these problems is through agency, congruence, and a psychological shift, as long as I am a police officer who is Black and conscious, as the saying goes, a luta continua—the struggle continues.

References

Ellison, R. W. (1995). Invisible man. Vintage International. (Original work published 1952) Wilson, A. N. (1990). Black on Black violence: The psychodynamics of Black self-annihilation in service of white domination. Afrikan World Infosystems.