Police Lights

July 30

I haven't been pulled over for quite some time (knock on wood), probably 15 years, but I remember vividly the first time I was pulled over. I was sixteen and the cop said, "Seriously, your name is Jordan? Isn't that a boy's name?" I squeaked, not a word. He asked where I was headed and I said, "home." He asked me where that was and I said on St. Paul Avenue, which is a block off Cedar and two blocks from where we were. He said, "St. Paul Avenue in Minneapolis?" I felt small, scared and then grateful when he handed me my ticket and drove away.

Six months later, I was driving home from my boyfriend's house late, saw a cop, rolled through a stop sign and pulled over. He turned on his lights and pulled in behind me. I was so nervous when I saw him that all I could think to do is pull over so he would pass. Instead, I got a ticket.

Today, I know I would get that nervous adrenaline rush and feeling of dread. I know that my mind would go to how much will the ticket be and how much will our car insurance go up.

I cannot conceive of a situation when police lights for a traffic stop would lead to me being accosted, handcuffed, arrested, brought to a jail, booked, let alone shot. If I ended up in jail, I know my family would get me out because I am white and privileged. That is the reason.

When I was talking to Curt about this last night, he said sometimes he gets annoyed driving behind someone who is going slow, but when he is finally able to pass the car, the occupants are often black, and then he thinks, "Yeah, I wouldn't drive over the speed limit if I were black either."