“Driving while White”

19 june 2020

The first time I got pulled over, I was 16, driving back from my homies house from our low-income side of town coined the ‘north side.’ My car had the intense fragrance of burnt weed mixed with tobacco, and the digital radio blinked that it was now three in the morning. Cop lights flashed behind me. I immediately sobered up at the realization that I didn’t have my driver’s license nor registration, my car smelled like a smokers lounge, and I was carrying over an ounce of bud in my jean pockets(I never stated I was the brightest teen). I pull over with my heartbeat rattling my brain. The cop came and knocked on my window and showered me with his blinding flashlight. I rolled my window down and the officer leaned his head down nearly coming face to face with me and inhaled exaggeratedly. The conversation goes as follows:

“You know smoking marijuana while driving can get you a DWI correct?”

“Yes officer.”

“License and Registration?”

“I don’t have it sir.”

“Well, give me a name and date of birth so we can get you out of here.”

And that was that. I never asked or received a reason for getting pulled over.

 My mind still somewhat cloudy and sedated from the kush in my pocket, I considered myself lucky the whole drive home and left it at that. I didn’t realize then, but I had the privilege to do so – to merely leave this incident in the past and not stress over being harassed by law enforcement again. 

I was young and naïve – I didn’t question why I got pulled over going 35 in a 30, or why the officer asked what part of town I’m from. In my mind, I concluded that the officer simply didn’t want to tarnish my record for something that is frowned upon. 

It wasn’t until a couple years later where I learned my spot on the totem pole. I was driving around town in my shitty, stick shift, ’98 Mazda, music bumping, with my friends dumped in the back seat touching shoulder to shoulder. I was speeding in a residential area going 35 in a 25, and before I knew it, we were pulled over off the side of the road with the infamous blue and red lights flashing behind us. The officer walked up to the passenger window and an expression of surprise sprung from his face as he met eyes with brown faces. He quickly assessed us and then asked if I knew why I got pulled over.

“I’m sorry officer I was speeding.”

“Have you been drinking this evening?”

It was eleven in the morning and we were all sober. 

“No sir I’m only 18.”

“Can you step out of the vehicle please?”

I stepped outside and the cop proceeded to lead me to the back of the car and began running a sobriety test – the usual ‘follow my finger,’ walk in a straight line, touch your nose with your head tilted back. I obeyed since I knew I was sober, but the thought that this person of power could not differentiate this to themselves began to frustrate me. Merely did I know this was casual routine. A couple cop cars pulled up and before I knew it, all my friends were forced out of my car and frisked and searched. 

I was utterly confused and honestly lost in the situation. My mind was racing, how did all this happen? Is this even allowed? I glanced over at my homies and their monotonous stare gave me the answer to the dilemma in my head – for people of color this was ordinary protocol. The officers moved all of us to a curb and sat us down across the street, so we didn’t have a clear view of them searching the car. When they finally realized we were riding clean, they simply told us we were all good and cleared out. 

After we got back in the car, awkwardness swallowed the mood. It was as if I discovered the dirty secret my friends shielded away from me. I was embarrassed. I was ashamed.  I yearned to relate with the feelings that were sweltering their minds, but that could never happen - I was born with privilege. I was born with white skin. 

It’s simple as Coate puts it, “The power of white innocence …[is] White America is ultimately blameless.” White people are quick to deny police brutality or racial profiling, but when that brutality or profiling is revealed, it’s revelation to the world is short-lived. In my mind comes Philando Castile, who was shot multiple times at point-blank range during a routine traffic stop on July 6th, 2016. Castile informed officer Ynez that he had a registered gun in the vehicle with a license to carry, yet even after informing Ynez, Ynez became nervous and fatally shot Castile. Ynez was charged with second-degree murder but was ultimately acquitted.  

I see it everywhere I go. I was guilty of it myself. I grew accustomed to relying on a system that benefits people of a lighter shade.

This sentiment is more relevant today than it has ever been. Every morning, citizens across the nation are reminded of the change that’s happening in Amerikkka. Millions of people protesting in nearly every state, police shooting tear gas and rubber bullets at civilians, ‘honorable’ statues of Western colonizers being toppled. All resulting from the systemic racism that has plagued our nation since its founding. 

It was inevitable for this to happen. Our generation was born in turmoil. Before we could even muster a full sentence, we watched the Twin Towers fell. We grew up as students witnessing schools being treated as warzones. When we finally hit a moment of maturity as teens, it was met with the death of Trayvon Martin, a moment of clarity that resulted in the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement today. We were born in changing times. 

For the first time in American History, it’s trendy to have a progressive mindset towards race. Countless celebrities and companies have voiced their support for BLM. A simple scroll through any social media platform proves this. It’s a change of events that was desperately needed, yet, I can’t help but question, where was this support before? Why are we once again, focusing our attention on what celebrities are saying? Shouldn’t we center our attention on abolitionist and radical voices - the ones who are actually out making a change? I’m concerned that, like every other major issue in America, this progressivism will be held victim to our two-week attention span. Those who are still supporting and protesting after the hype dies down will ultimately be the true followers of this movement, not the companies and celebrities who post for monetary purposes. 

Amerikkka will always do her best to suppress negative connotations of its ‘elite’ white class. There was no outcry in the media when Santino Legan, a white male who was later recognized as idealizing racial violence and anti-Semitism, went to the Garlic Festival in Gilroy and began mowing down the first people of color he saw. Or where was the uproar after, Patrick Crusius, stormed a Walmart in El Paseo, Texas, where 23 people were killed in hatred against Latinos? 

This is the problem when people of privilege stress the need for things to return back to ‘normal.’ Normal for Amerikka is flipping through news stations and watching which person of color was the victim that night. Normal is turning your cheek as you see a police officer dig his knee in a black man’s neck. Normal for Amerikkka is racism. 

How many more George Floyd’s and Philando Castile’s do there need to be for Amerikkka to ever wake up? How many more innocent people of color need to be savagely murdered and used as a martyr in order for white Amerikkka to change? It’s as if people need a reminder that Amerikkka was founded on oppression and genocide. It was the hands of Western Civilization that drove natives to near extinction. It was at the hands of the government that led millions of natives to walk the fatal Trail of Tears. It was at the hands of White Americans that burned down a black community in Tulsa, Oklahoma, or hung “colored people” from trees. Have we strayed so far away from the past that we forget these events occurred, or is it merely that Amerikkka wants us to forget them? 

Let us not forget then that nearly twenty years ago, people were protesting over the beating of a black man. Now, twenty years later, we’re protesting over the wrongful death of a black man. What real progress has been made? Let us not forget that none of these protests would be possible without the footage being released. What would have happened if none of these videos came to light? It’s like having an unfaithful partner who constantly cheats on their lover and then attempts to save face once they get caught; America sits back and watches the racism unfold day by day, but once that racism is portrayed to the public, then it is time to take action. It is purely pathetic and exposes that the institution is not meant to protect you, only the privileged elite whites of society. 

It’s our responsibility to make sure that these victims do not go unheard. To make sure that these lives do not go forgotten. To make sure these lives do not go down in history as ‘lies.’ Lives such as Breonna Taylor, who was shot and killed in her own apartment due to police issuing a no-knock warrant to the wrong residence. To this day, no officers have been arrested in connection to the murder of Breonna; however, her boyfriend was immediately put into custody for returning fire since they entered unannounced. Since then, the charges against the boyfriend has been dropped, but it highlights the problem revolving around the men in uniform – if the man with the badge commits foul, it will go unheard and fly under the radar, yet if you’re the one defending yourself from police’s abuse of power, in the end, you are the one that suffers the brute blunt of authority. 

Amerikkka’s racism is embedded deeply in our society, yet these past two weeks have shown that with demonstrating protests, change can occur. What started as a BLM movement in the US has now reached an international scale, with European countries now taking part in its activism. France, Netherlands, The United Kingdom, etc. swarmed their capitols and streets, holding up signs in unison with those of BLM. Even the Premier Soccer League has announced that players will sport Black Lives Matter jerseys instead of their traditional uniforms as a sign of solidarity. As other countries voice their support for the BLM movement, where has Amerikkka been in this conversation? It’s easy to not question the system when you are never presented with the threat of racism itself, and that’s what most people tend to do. 

One morning, I was taking a walk with my son around the park, pulling him his red, hard plastic RadioFlyer wagon. The morning breeze was gently brushing our faces as an older white gentlemen, walking four dogs, stopped to greet little Cameron (Cameron is only 14 months, so I am used to the occasional grandma or grandpa stopping to compliment and partake in Cameron’s baby language). We were discussing the pandemic when he nonchalantly correlated the pandemic to the protests that happened in our city that prior weekend. 

“There’s nothing for kids to do now so they’re all out there protesting, passing time. You don’t see any adults or older people my age out there.”

I was kind of baffled with his abrupt demeanor and tone, but became even more frustrated since he was trying to push that rhetoric and debate onto me while my son was innocently sitting in the backseat of his wagon.

“I’m surprised hearing that coming from someone your age, whenever we look back in the 60’s I tend to see more young people protesting instead of adults also. I guess nothing really has changed since then.” 

White people don’t like to face the music and accept privilege as a reality. Just like myself, that elderly man never had to deal with the concerning thought of getting pulled over by police. He’s never had to ‘train’ how to deal with law enforcement while being instantly vilified. Who is he to question the reasoning behind the protesting, when it wasn’t until these past couple weeks he had to contemplate the use of excessive force on people of color? For people of color, this is something they live with on a day to day basis. For white people, it is only something experienced if we are ever confronted with it. We have always had the upper hand due to the content of our skin. 

We threw some emotionally charged words at one another and then went our separate ways. I looked back at Cameron sitting in the back seat – his confused look telling me all I need to know. “Dad can we finish our walk now?” I grinned at him as a thought popped in my mind; my son’s generation is being brought up in the midst of turmoil. I pondered with myself, how will they react when they finally reach that moment of clarity that we did when Trayvon Martin was killed? 

The answer crept its way into my mind until a moment of clarity hit me. Amerikkka’s racism is at the roots of this country; getting rid of systematic racism will obviously not and never will be easy a task whatsoever. However, with more and more generations being born in times of radical change (like myself), we will ultimately promote the change we want as we progressively age. If I aspire to be part of that change, my responsibility is at the helms of informing the generations to come the racism that is breed and imbedded in our country, and how, my son specifically, can combat this as a privileged white male. 

As we headed our way back home, we ironically passed some houses with Trump signs and some signs that depicted in bold letters: ALL LIVES MATTER.

I decided it wasn’t too early to start giving Cameron a little history lesson.

“You see those signs right there Cam, those signs are from people who are confused,” I tried to muster in the most serious baby – talking voice I could create.

When we got home, I made it a point to make a poster with Cameron and the family to display to our predominately white neighborhood. I copied a sign I saw online and wrote in my own bold letters, “BLACK LIVES DOESN”T MEAN ALL LIVES DON’T MATTER, BUT ALL LIVES CAN”T MATTER UNTIL BLACK LIVES MATTER.” 

I felt it was an appropriate response to the sign I saw earlier.