This put me damn near in tears; read this encounter with police that professor Steve Locke went through, and it will explain everything you need to know about being black in 21st century America. If you dont get it from this then really I’m wasting my time trying to explain it.
“This is what I wore to work today.
On my way to get a burrito before work, I was detained by the police.
I noticed the police car in the public lot behind Centre Street. As I was walking away from my car, the cruiser followed me. I walked down Centre Street and was about to cross over to the burrito place and the officer got out of the car.
“Hey my man,” he said.
He unsnapped the holster of his gun.
I took my hands out of my pockets.
“Yes?” I said.
“Where you coming from?”
“Home.”
Where’s home?”
“Dedham.”
How’d you get here?”
“I drove.”
He was next to me now. Two other police cars pulled up. I was standing in from of the bank across the street from the burrito place. I was going to get lunch before I taught my 1:30 class. There were cops all around me.
I said nothing. I looked at the officer who addressed me. He was white, stocky, bearded.
“You weren’t over there, were you?” He pointed down Centre Street toward Hyde Square.
“No. I came from Dedham.”
“What’s your address?”
I told him.
“We had someone matching your description just try to break into a woman’s house.”
A second police officer stood next to me; white, tall, bearded. Two police cruisers passed and would continue to circle the block for the 35 minutes I was standing across the street from the burrito place.
“You fit the description,” the officer said. “Black male, knit hat, puffy coat. Do you have identification.”
“It’s in my wallet. May I reach into my pocket and get my wallet?”
“Yeah.”
I handed him my license. I told him it did not have my current address. He walked over to a police car. The other cop, taller, wearing sunglasses, told me that I fit the description of someone who broke into a woman’s house. Right down to the knit cap.
Barbara Sullivan made a knit cap for me. She knitted it in pinks and browns and blues and oranges and lime green. No one has a hat like this. It doesn’t fit any description that anyone would have. I looked at the second cop. I clasped my hands in front of me to stop them from shaking.
“For the record,” I said to the second cop, “I’m not a criminal. I’m a college professor.” I was wearing my faculty ID around my neck, clearly visible with my photo.
“You fit the description so we just have to check it out.” The first cop returned and handed me my license.
“We have the victim and we need her to take a look at you to see if you are the person.”
It was at this moment that I knew that I was probably going to die. I am not being dramatic when I say this. I was not going to get into a police car. I was not going to present myself to some victim. I was not going let someone tell the cops that I was not guilty when I already told them that I had nothing to do with any robbery. I was not going to let them take me anywhere because if they did, the chance I was going to be accused of something I did not do rose exponentially. I knew this in my heart. I was not going anywhere with these cops and I was not going to let some white woman decide whether or not I was a criminal, especially after I told them that I was not a criminal. This meant that I was going to resist arrest. This meant that I was not going to let the police put their hands on me.
If you are wondering why people don’t go with the police, I hope this explains it for you.
Something weird happens when you are on the street being detained by the police. People look at you like you are a criminal. The police are detaining you so clearly you must have done something, otherwise they wouldn’t have you. No one made eye contact with me. I was hoping that someone I knew would walk down the street or come out of one of the shops or get off the 39 bus or come out of JP Licks and say to these cops, “That’s Steve Locke. What the FUCK are you detaining him for?”
The cops decided that they would bring the victim to come view me on the street. The asked me to wait. I said nothing. I stood still.
“Thanks for cooperating,” the second cop said. “This is probably nothing, but it’s our job and you do fit the description. 5′ 11″, black male. One-hundred-and-sixty pounds, but you’re a little more than that. Knit hat.”
A little more than 160. Thanks for that, I thought.
An older white woman walked behind me and up to the second cop. She turned and looked at me and then back at him. “You guys sure are busy today.”
I noticed a black woman further down the block. She was small and concerned. She was watching what was going on. I focused on her red coat. I slowed my breathing. I looked at her from time to time.
I thought: Don’t leave, sister. Please don’t leave.
The first cop said, “Where do you teach?”
“Massachusetts College of Art and Design.” I tugged at the lanyard that had my ID.
“How long you been teaching there?”
“Thirteen years.”
We stood in silence for about 10 more minutes.
An unmarked police car pulled up. The first cop went over to talk to the driver. The driver kept looking at me as the cop spoke to him. I looked directly at the driver. He got out of the car.
“I’m Detective Cardoza. I appreciate your cooperation.”
I said nothing.
“I’m sure these officers told you what is going on?”
“They did.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“From my home in Dedham.”
“How did you get here?”
“I drove.”
“Where is your car?”
“It’s in the lot behind Bukhara.” I pointed up Centre Street.
“Okay,” the detective said. “We’re going to let you go. Do you have a car key you can show me?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to reach into my pocket and pull out my car key.”
“Okay.”
I showed him the key to my car.
The cops thanked me for my cooperation. I nodded and turned to go.
“Sorry for screwing up your lunch break,” the second cop said.
I walked back toward my car, away from the burrito place. I saw the woman in red.
“Thank you,” I said to her. “Thank you for staying.”
“Are you ok?” She said. Her small beautiful face was lined with concern.
“Not really. I’m really shook up. And I have to get to work.”
“I knew something was wrong. I was watching the whole thing. The way they are treating us now, you have to watch them. ”
“I’m so grateful you were there. I kept thinking to myself, ‘Don’t leave, sister.’ May I give you a hug?”
“Yes,” she said. She held me as I shook. “Are you sure you are ok?”
“No I’m not. I’m going to have a good cry in my car. I have to go teach.”
“You’re at MassArt. My friend is at MassArt.”
“What’s your name?” She told me. I realized we were Facebook friends. I told her this.
“I’ll check in with you on Facebook,” she said.
I put my head down and walked to my car.
My colleague was in our shared office and she was able to calm me down. I had about 45 minutes until my class began and I had to teach. I forgot the lesson I had planned. I forget the schedule. I couldn’t think about how to do my job. I thought about the fact my word counted for nothing, they didn’t believe that I wasn’t a criminal. They had to find out. My word was not enough for them. My ID was not enough for them. My handmade one-of-a-kind knit hat was an object of suspicion. My Ralph Lauren quilted blazer was only a “puffy coat.” That white woman could just walk up to a cop and talk about me like I was an object for regard. I wanted to go back and spit in their faces. The cops were probably deeply satisfied with how they handled the interaction, how they didn’t escalate the situation, how they were respectful and polite.
I imagined sitting in the back of a police car while a white woman decides if I am a criminal or not. If I looked guilty being detained by the cops imagine how vile I become sitting in a cruiser? I knew I could not let that happen to me. I knew if that were to happen, I would be dead.
Nothing I am, nothing I do, nothing I have means anything because I fit the description.
I had to confess to my students that I was a bit out of it today and I asked them to bear with me. I had to teach.
After class I was supposed to go to the openings for First Friday. I went home.”
Honestly, if any person of color sees something like this please stay and comfort them. We need to protect our black brothers and sisters. They are a target in this racist shitty country. We don’t need another innocent life taken away.
Is there anything that I could do if I ever see anything like this. While I may be Jewish I am not black so I want to know what I can do to be of help and support in situations like these.
What can I do to be supportive and ally and helpful in this situation.
I would like to know what my best course of actions is so that I can be supportive.
I feel like my guts reactions which would be to yell at the cops might endanger their victims life.
Would filming what is happening be the best course, should I say anything. I am only asking because I just don’t know.
First off, I have never been in a situation like this. I have had to deal with the police, and it is never pleasant, but never in the role of the accused. That being said, I am mixed and this is something I think about a lot. This is the advice I would give to my white friends:
* If you don’t know the person involved, stay far back enough that you’re not “part” of the situation and film it. It’s ok if the cops see you filming (depending on the situation, it might help), but don’t do anything to attract attention. If you’re addressed by the cops and they ask you to stop filming, politely decline. If it seems like they’re going to escalate the situation, back away further but try to continue watching and/or filming without being noticed.
* If you do know the person and are white(-passing), I would personally find it comforting to go up to the person and officers with a friendly / concerned demeanor. Something like “hey ! what’s going on? is everything ok?” don’t interfere, but do stay to watch as a Concerned Member of the Community. I’m not sure if filming would be helping in this case, but see the next point.
* If the person in question gets into a police vehicle, PLEASE FILM THAT IF AT ALL POSSIBLE. Verbally confirm the date, time, and location, as well as the situation as you understand it. That will be helpful if something happens while they’re in custody.
* If you do know the person and can provide an accurate, verifiable alibi, try to do so calmly and respectfully. This is especially helpful if you’re white(passing), because you’re simply more likely to be believed.
* If nothing else, do that that sister did: stay and bear witness. If you understand nonverbal communication, try to communicate that you are compassionate toward the person being detained, not judgmental.
Things not to do:
* Get aggressive toward the cops.
* Try to intervene physically.
* Try to intervene at all if the situation seems volatile.
* Say anything about the person in question if you are not 100% confident it is accurate and verifiable. You don’t want to complicate their testimony.
If anyone has corrections / additions, please share them. This is mostly hypothetical for me.
i want to know more about charlie weasley’s friends. who the hell agrees to SMUGGLE A DRAGON across international borders on two days notice? who are these people that are willing to accept a dragon in a crate from a couple of small children, no questions asked? i need to know more, tell me about the antics of these mysterious flying dragon smugglers.
ESPCAD.
European Society for the Prevention of Cruelty Against Dragons.
Like PETA but with less grossness and more punk activism. And fire breathing dragons so like no one really fux with ‘em.
speaking as a biologist, i can guarantee i would show up without question to smuggle an endangered species that would otherwise be destroyed across national borders to a sanctuary on two days’ notice.
like. if a small child showed me a box containing a juvenile alligator snapping turtle and was like “you need to smuggle this across the continent to kansas or else it will be destroyed” i would be like “sure, would you like me to send you a postcard, small child”
Do the Germans have a word for when you're reading something funny at work buy you can't laugh because you REALLY don't want to explain what you're reading to your coworkers, so you just nearly die choking?
things that still freak me out: those sinks americans have in their kitchens that you can destroy stuff with
Honestly this post has been on my mind all day. Those weird destructosinks for people with too much money are apparently common in America. And Americans get defensive over them.
Well don’t come crying to me when your wean gets eaten by the fucking kitchen sink.
hOLY SHIT WHAT IF U TRY AND CLEAN THE PLUG AND TURN IT ON IM SO SCARED
Okay it took me for-fucking-ever to figure out wtf you guys are talking about are you talking about garbage disposals? Like down the drain??
with the spinny knives
No knives, just a dull piece of spinny metal.
you realise it takes the same amount of force to cut thru a carrot as a finger
i dont know what you do over there but we usually don’t stick our hands in our sink drains
who’s going around fisting sinks anyway
“don’t come crying to me when your wean gets eaten by the fucking kitchen sink”
is that person saying they fuck kitchen sinks? is that what I just read? they put their dick in the sink’s drain and they fuck it?
dont sinkshame
Child. Wean means child.
Okay, so you put your CHILD in a sink and stuff them down the drain? That’s… that’s definitely worse.
I need Han to accidentally be force strong, mostly because HE WOULD HATE THAT SO MUCH
“Wow so you’re basically a self-taught Jedi”
“WHAT–ARE YOU–I’M THE BEST PILOT IN–”
“That’s force shit”
“I’M AN EXCELLENT SHOT”
“Yeah, because of the force”
“I’M INCREDIBLY PERSUASIVE”
“That’s the force making people believe your terrible lies against all reason ”
“I’LL SEE YOU IN HELL”
Eh, it's Wisconsin cheese. Who'd want to pay money for that?
Before you slap a piece of bright yellow American cheese on your burger this holiday weekend, consider the plight of a poor truck driver in Oak Creek, Wisconsin, whose truck full of cheese was stolen on Friday.
The music video for “Sledgehammer” by Rihanna, a song used to promote the upcoming Star Trek movie, and named for a tool that they probably don’t use all that much in the 23rd century, has been released. And now I mostly wish Rihanna was the villain of the movie.
I want a high fantasy movie where everyone talks with Southern US accents instead of British ones.
The Dwarves though, they can get Minnesotan accents.
ok but picture this: elves with brooklyn accents
“Hey HEY I’m castin’ here, what’d’you – listen, my pop and I serve the Great Tree goin’ back six hundred fuckin’ years so if you got a problem with our fuckin’ magic you don’t fuckin’ come down here into our fuckin’ grove to gimme shit about it.
“Right? You don’t see me fuckin’ goin’ into your shitty man-stables and tellin’ you how to milk horses, do ya? So instead you come down here, disrespect me, disrespect my pa, and how ‘bout you stop fuckin’ disrespectin’ the Great Fuckin’ Tree that grew whens’t the world was young and carries all our fates ‘n its boughs, okay?
This will be the cutest video you will see today. My grandparents found baby sea turtles on their doorstep this morning so they released them one by one!
please turn on your volume omg
The person releasing them reminds me of Mater from cars this is the cutest video I’ve ever seen
I rarely reblog stuff here, but seeing these adorable little honu being released into the ocean was irresistible!!
Some Monster: Dude im totally about to eat you
Me: Oh shit!
Monster: MUHAHAHAHA!!
Me: Ok bro hold the vore stuff for a second, i came prepared for this exact moment.
Monster: Um?
Me: *starts blasting the Scooby Doo Chase Music I ccarry around with me*
Monster, shouting over the sweet 70's tunes: What the fuck?
Me, taking off running: HOPE YOU LIKE RUNNING THROUGH DOORS YA FURRY FUCK!
Is it me or does the way we treat cast-iron cookware almost come across like we’re talking about ancestral enchanted swords or something?
‘Twas my grandmother’s pan, ‘fore she passed it to my father; and my father’s pan before mine; and now you, my daughter, shall have it by your side as you go off to make your way in the world. Just remember, never wash it with soap, nor scrub too hard when you rinse it, lest you erode its protective sheen – you can apply a new enchantment, but it will lose all the power it has gained over the years from its use by our bloodline, and also it’s sort of a pain in the ass.
Dropped off on Jakku at a young age and left in a scavenger’s camp, Rey spends the majority of her life ripping apart abandoned Imperial ships for their most valuable parts in order to eat. Basically: she spends years training herself in the complex mechanics and layouts of the Imperial fleet (whose designs and ships are, obviously, used by the First Order), and therefore, Correllian ship-making (as they’re some of the galaxy’s most prolific ship-builders, Imperial ships were of Correllian design). Her knowing the Millennium Falcon and being able to maneuver around the First Order base is not at all surprising: she’s being rooting around similar ships for years.
That’s not even mentioning her dialogue on how the Millennium Falcon got to the junkyards of Jakku and her disagreement with the modifications made onboard–it indicates that 1) she’s been in the ship before, probably more than once 2) she’s more than familiar with its history, to the point that she’s probably been used in official capacities to examine/work on the ship 3) though slightly on the outs with the proprietor/buyer in the junkyards, she was clearly trained by a group of people who stole the Millennium Falcon.
Her technical skills, knowledge of ships, circuits, and all that shit is plausible. She’s spent most of her life training in it.
Remember her staff? The first time we see Rey, she’s got that staff slung across her back. When Finn arrives at the scavenger’s camp, sees two thugs about to abduct BB-8 and attacking Rey, he rushes to help. Before he can get there, Rey takes out both men with her staff. When they leave Jakku, she takes it with her. When she has a choice, she always brings that staff–even if she has a blaster. It’s an extension of herself, and a strange sort of security blanket. My guess is that she’s had to use it a lot on Jakku, as a girl, alone. But my primary point is this: her decently handling a lightsaber is not at all unexpected. She’s already had her own version of combat training with that staff.
Her being able to duel Kylo Ren is plausible, given that she’s spent years with that staff as her only weapon, and clearly used it often. While not exactly the same thing as a saber, there are similar principles, similar forms, and plenty of real life experience.
Combine the last two pieces of information. Rey has spent years hauling herself up the interiors of crashed ships, ripping out their parts, and lugging them around. The girl’s probably ripped.
Her duel with Kylo Ren is physiologically plausible, because of her own ridiculous form of strength-training known as “trying to survive Jakku and get enough food to stay alive.”
Jakku. She’s spent years there, living alone, with a discipline and work ethic like no nineteen-year-old normally has. There’s been nobody, really, to defend her and care for her. She’s had to do it all on her own, and had to grow up well before she reached adulthood–otherwise she would’ve starved to death.
Compare that with Kylo Ren: a boy who grew up privileged, the son of two generals, and technically royalty. Compare Rey’s attitude, ethic, and level-headedness with Kylo Ren’s temper tantrums, wild mood swings, and inability to follow through. Yes, he’s had some years of official training in the ways of the force, but he’s wildly undisciplined. He can’t focus. He has power, sure, but he’s not so great at controlling it. Think about Vader, Dooku, and Palpatine: they were shitbags, but they were shitbags who could focus and exercise a modicum of control over themselves. Kylo Ren’s greatest fear isn’t far-fetched at all: so far, he’s being a terrible excuse for a Sith Lord.
Coming face to face with Rey–disciplined, hard-working, smart, focused, devoted, driven Rey, ready to defend Finn, coming from a background that demanded so much more–only exposes that to even greater degree. His mental state is in shambles, compared to hers.
Rey being able to face off against Kylo Ren is plausible not simply because of her previous actions, but also because the life she’s lived has made her more disciplined, and focused.
Luke’s awakening in the force began with Ben teaching and coaching him, around age 18. The force began calling to Rey much earlier. And no, I’m not talking about her vision in the basement. When Kylo Ren probes Rey’s mind, he says that at night she imagines an ocean, and an island. ALL RIGHT FOLKS, WHERE DID WE FIND LUKE AT THE END? THAT’S RIGHT. AN ISLAND IN THE MIDDLE OF AN OCEAN. Coincidence? I think not.
Some people are also assuming that when Rey says, “I just knew how to do it, somehow,” in reference to certain gut-instinct aerial moves in the Falcon, it was the force sharpening her perceptions and helping her. It makes sense–if the force has been influencing her dreams and imagination for years, it’s probably been waiting for any moment it could bleed through more actively into her life. The force has been waiting for a long time, and it’s no friggin coincidence that Maz Kanata has Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber and that’s where Han Solo takes them.
After the vision in the basement, Maz Kanata is able to give Rey a brief moment of instruction–that Obi-Wan “shit’s about to go down get ready kid” kind of moment. Rey rejects it at first, freaked out, most likely because of y’know, reliving the most painful moment of her life and seeing a field littered with dead bodies as Mr. Scary Mask stands above her, but it’s ultimately what saves her. She’s spent her entire life blocking out the call of the outside world–force included. Letting go of what she was ushers in everything she’s been holding back. Considering that the Jedi Order, in its heyday, used to begin training force-sensitive individuals when they were children, it’s not crazy to assume that this has been building since she was a child, and has been fairly repressed and blocked since being placed on Jakku.
Now, let’s skip on back to Kylo Ren’s interrogation. Luke never had this moment. He never had a Jedi or Sith do an intrusive mind probe. What the hell kind of affect must that have on a force sensitive person, who’s had these abilities, never truly explored them, but reacts on instinct? I feel like it’s the equivalent of taking a can of soda, and shaking it until it explodes.
In the woods, as they duel, Kylo inadvertently reminds her of what wise-as-shit Maz Kanata said: let it in. She intentionally drops the barriers. Not simply to escape. Not as a small thing. Rey focuses on the force as a guide, and not a trick, and HEY HEY SHIT HAPPENS. And the aforementioned “shit” is not just the force, but the force building off of everything she’s ever gone through.
Rey’s force abilities are not just suddenly there; they’re awakened. Forcibly. (Pun!) and HENCE THE TITLE OF THE MOVIE! It’s plausible. Just as plausible as Luke making that one-in-a-million shot. He practiced shooting womp rats in Beggar’s Canyon, and it was the force, added on to that experience, that helped him “destroy” the Death Star in A New Hope. Rey’s life has been much more difficult than Luke’s thus far. She hasn’t even had the leisure of avoiding a direction confrontation with a Sith–she was thrust into a force-ridden fight a helluva lot quicker. Who knows what Luke would’ve done in her shoes, had he had to go through the same things she did.
By the way, this is what happens when I, a nerd, go on the internet, and see people being stupid. This is also what happens when I have a lot of feelings about fictional characters.
I still can’t get over the fact that Jakku means jacket in Finnish.
I want the word "pantsuit" removed from the vocabulary. It's a fucking suit. It's got a jacket and pants. You know what that sounds like? That sounds like the suits that men wear.
why do all children know the floor is lava game do we all just learn it from older children and inadvertently share it with each other like some natural inevitable cycle why do children discover the floor and the concept of gravity and up and down and suddenly pretend to be afraid of it why do we play with the physical limitations of our world
This has been explored. Apparently there is a thing called Children Culture. Some of the skipping songs and jump rope songs we learned as kids have no known origin as ever having been written or performed by adults. Some games have no known origins as well. Essentially, kids like to tell each other things and pass them around and sometimes if something particularly cool or interesting gets made, the entire school learns it. And then those kids teach their siblings or cousins or friends from other schools and they teach their whole school until it becomes a whole mass knowledge thing by all kids and continues to be for years and years.
It’s conceivable that the lava game is another aspect of kid culture.
I know my kids don’t seem to know it and they were pretty separated from other kids growing up.
Confirmed: all children are part of a telepathic cult.
The worst part of Pride each year is riding the subway late at night and seeing the gay guys, mostly the ones riding by themselves, slowly take off their rainbow stickers and beads and what-not in preparation for their walk alone in their neighborhood, doing their best to prevent the off-chance of being jumped. I saw one guy with a flag in his bag turn it upside down so it wouldn’t poke out.
So yeah, fuck that heterosexual pride day nonsense.
I'm PRETTY sure the supervillian one is the ACTUAL tragic backstory behind Professor X and Magneto.
This first one, you guys. This first one… reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it reblog it Tumblr Gets Deep: Next … Continued
Seeing
herself in the mirror, Kel thought she’d made herself into the girl she
would have been had she not tried for her shield. The feeling was odd,
more good than bad. ‘Maybe I’m the same whatever I wear,’ she thought. ‘It’s just easier to fight in breeches.’
