Skip to main content

Changing Perceptions One Incident at a Time





I'm still on hiatus while finishing Era of the Scourge: Reclamation, but I felt this was too important not to be shared. 

The story below happened to me on September 23, 2015. I discovered a similar story that recently went viral and decided to share them both. Based on what we see in the media, it's very easy to believe that all cops are bad guys and all people of color are criminals. That's just not the case. In most cases, treat people with respect, and you'll get it back in return.  


A state trooper had me dead to rights today.

I was carpooling with a friend, trying to make it to work on time and pushing the needle past ninety on the highway. An undercover state trooper rolls up behind me and lingers there long enough to make me uncomfortable.

I surreptitiously lower my speed. He stays behind me. At this point, I assume he's running my plates. I wait for the high pitch wail of the sirens and the telltale, patriotic, epileptic-seizure-inducing lights.
I figure he's got me. I'm doing ninety in a seventy. I have no excuses.

Then, he pulls around my right, gives me a look, and continues about his way.
I'm a black man who stands at six three and weighs two fifty. The cop could just as easily have racially profiled me, pulled me over, given me a ticket, and ruined my day. Instead he chose to let me go.

I tell this story as a cautionary tale. Not all police officers are bad. Not all people of color are criminals. Stop lumping people together, categorising, and looking for excuses to discriminate. Take one person, one situation at a time, STOP and THINK. You may change someone's opinion. You may save lives.

Stop judging and start thinking.

Steven Hildreth also relayed the story of his recent traffic stop, which is rightfully getting a lot of attention.

Thanks for reading.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

America: A True Story About Hatred and Unity

I wanted fast food tonight. That was all. I found myself at Burger King to pick up my wife's order. I was a few cars deep when I spotted the Confederate flag. I surreptitiously snapped a few photos. This was going to be a very different story. When I pull out of Burger King, it turns out there's more than one. In fact, there are four trucks, each flying variations of the flag. I have to go around the front of them to avoid an accident. They're parked right in the middle of the road. As I drive around them, each person in the vehicle makes it a point to ensure I see them. I do. They see me too. When I get to McDonald's (which is in the same lot), I learn that they're not taking debit cards at the moment. Terrific. I wanted chicken nuggets and instead, I get a run-in with the new Confederacy. So I make my way back to Burger King, again appearing in full view of the trucks. I place my order, get it, pay, and pull out. Then one of the

The Long Road Home

I will end you tonight. No, wait. That's not where the story starts. The story starts two and a half years before this, when Michelle (referred to as Michelle for legal reasons because SATAN was too heavily trademarked) reached out to me by Facebook. She mentioned that we played the same Facebook game and she wanted to say hi. I had never, in fact, even heard of the Facebook game. But I was freshly broken out of a relationship and she was pretty with a good body so I said "Hurr, okay." Conversation ensues. She tells me we came up in the same place. We did not come up in the same place. We spent one night in San Francisco talking. But I really wanted to sleep with her. So, "Hurr, okay." Fast forward a few months. I've left Missouri for the beautiful Pacific Northwest. I've settled into the ass end of Lynnwood, a suburb of Seattle. The apartment was so bad that the landlord wrote the mold on the wall off as "crayon coloring

Wave Rocketbook Reviewed

I love writing by hand, and I love notebooks. I'll often devote entire budgets to them and when Officemax has one of their twenty-five cent sales, I'll buy them out. I often draft by hand, finding that the scene comes together more purely when it flows from a pen rather than a keyboard. So when DailyDot advertised a durable new type of notebook that you could use over and over again for the cheap price of twenty-five (thirty after shipping) US Dollars? I'm down. The Wave Rocketbook is meant to be elegant in its design and simple in its execution. The instructions come on the bag itself, and only the pen and notebook are included. The pen feels like any other, so you have to be careful not to mix it into your collection or you will end up marking your notebook with the wrong pen (like I did). The ink is erasable, which is a bonus. A place to put the pen would've been nice, but it clips easily, if not securely, into the ringed binding. The paper is thick and