I’m the Son of a Cop, But That Doesn’t Mean I Trust the Police
By: Joshua Dairen
Tags: Justice, Culture, Equality, Politics, Race

I’m the Son of a Cop, But That Doesn’t Mean I Trust the Police

The police have a critical and necessary job, but they are not messiahs

Police officers face off with protesters on September 21, 2016 in Charlotte, NC. Photo: Sean Rayford/Getty Images

As a child, being the son of a police officer was the coolest.

My father was my literal hero; he could do no wrong in my eyes. His cop car excited me, and I got a thrill every time I could check out his guns and gadgets. I wanted to believe that every person who wore the same uniform worked in and served their community fairly, just like him.

There wasn’t a place I could visit in my small Alabama town where my dad didn’t know multitudes of people. He’s a likable guy with a charming smile and can talk to anyone, probably because he’s already met them.

Now that I’m an adult, I’m still incredibly proud of my dad. I see how seriously he takes his job. He’s never lost the same persona I remember from my childhood. Something has changed all these years later, though — not him, but me. The seven-year-old’s fantasy of what it meant to be a police officer began to fade away with every passing year.

My police officer father isn’t enough to shield me from the harsh reality that we both live as Black men. He doesn’t wear his occupation on his skin or his street clothes. When his Kevlar vest comes off, and he’s at home with his family, he’s Black first. Every time the police brutalize someone Black and it makes national news, I understand that he could easily wind up being the victim one day — for doing something as routine as going to the grocery store.

My close friends know what my dad does for a living. They regularly ask me how I feel about the police system and where I stand when it comes to police brutality. I’m not undecided; I have no reason to straddle the fence. If I encountered the police right now, would undying loyalty to the badge spare me from getting beaten down in the middle of the street, or shot in the back, or killed?

The answer is no. The proof has existed for centuries now. It’s glossed over in our history books, seen on video, and fought through protests and riots, still in 2020. So forgive me if I don’t paint “goodness” over the boys in blue with a broad stroke. I have no choice but to be cautious.

If I encountered the police right now, would undying loyalty to the badge spare me from getting beaten down in the middle of the street, or shot in the back, or killed?

The police have a critical and necessary job, but they are not messiahs. A badge and the authority to enforce the law don’t gauge their morality. Violent, deadly police actions against unarmed Black people keep speaking the whole truth. I see myself, my family, and my friends in every news story about police brutality. While representation can be a truly powerful motivator, it can also serve as an overwhelming tool of fear for all the wrong reasons. A broken system continues its effort to break Black people, and that’s every reason to look at police encounters with concern.

This threat influences how I move every single day. Being outdoors means I need a backup plan for all the what-ifs: What if the police show up where I am and point a gun at me? What if I get pulled over? What am I going to do to make sure I get home safely?

As Black people, we learn the following lessons early on:

If you get pulled over, don’t move and keep your hands on the steering wheel. Only crack your window.

No matter how mad you are, always smile and be friendly. Anything less can cost you your life.

Call someone and put them on speakerphone so they can hear what’s going on.

At night, turn on your interior lights so other people can see you.

Never leave your car.

Being Black means fearing a hostile police encounter and becoming a name in a never-ending loop of victims of police aggression and violence.

Knowing our rights and standing up for ourselves shouldn’t be a death penalty. It shouldn’t be common for justice not to be served when the evidence paints the entire picture. I shouldn’t have to hear excuses about how someone should have complied or be told to “wait for the facts.”

I love my father, but his being a “good guy” doesn’t protect me in the broader world. It doesn’t take away my susceptibility to brutality. It doesn’t keep me from being seen as a threat or an aggressor. It doesn’t camouflage me from being tossed around because I was approached and handled by an officer with fear and weak ideologies.

It doesn’t protect me at all.

I’m the son of a cop, and I like to see the good in people first. But until the victimization of people who look like me stops being so typical, it’s just not enough to change my view on police encounters.