My experience as an African American

[Derek McGowan]

In the wake of the four shooting recently and with the conversation that followed/follows, I figured I should give some experiences from my back ground in case anyone doesn't really no what it is like.

I will start by saying that I hold no ill will toward the police and I will not give my feelings on these situations but I present them so that you can put yourself in the shoes of a black male and see how you would feel about this happening to you. Also, I have never been to jail, never been in trouble, I have never even been suspended from school. I have never smoked, don't go to parties, and probably drink 8-10 oz of alcohol per year (not an exaggeration). I hardly curse and have only been to court for either traffic violations (as defendant) or rent court (as the landlord) I have never hung out with the wrong crowd and spent most of my child hood summers at the Smithsonian, the Aquarium, Zoo or Science Center, but..... I do and always have lived in the city of Baltimore.

1. I was leaving out of my mothers house one morning, saw some movement out of the corner of my eye, turned and found the yard to be filled (at least ten) with ATF agents. Their unmarked vehicles blocking the alley and two of them running up the back porch steps to confront me. After a sit down (as in I was caused to sit down) conversation they said they thought that the car parked on the parking pad matched the description of someone they were looking for, it wasn't it.

2. I turned the corner from the sub shop and was heading back to the house when a white van pulled up beside me, the driver asking for directions. When I approached the van, the side door slide open and out jumped two undercover cops who questioned me about what I had just been doing around the corner. I explained that I picked up food for a friend and was heading home.

3. Me and an friend of a friend (electrician) were working on the bells to one of my rental properties, suddenly a police car made a swift U-turn stopped in front of the house and asked what we were doing. I explained.

4. I had two vacancies on the first floor of a rental and was in the front one doing some work. The door open, a cop walks in and asked if he could look around. I said " I guess, sure" He pulled out the flashlight (this was during the day) searched the one area then left. I thought he was gone but then I found him walking out of the back apt. I didn't say he could search back there, neither did he ask.

5. Sitting in my sister's car early one morning. Me, my sister and her husband. He was going to drop us off college (we both went to the same one at the time) Its early (6 am dark) during the winter and we were warming the car up suddenly flashing lights and a knock at the window. It was implied that we were in the process of stealing the car.

6. Pulled over for a traffic stop and asked if the car could be searched.

7. I was at work talking to the stock receiver. Police came in and began questioning him. Someone in the grocery store said that they saw him exposing his schlong in public and in front of her child. He was fixing his belt

8. Pulled over. Officer said I didn't stop at the stop sign. I said no sir, I was sure to stop. He said (and I'm not joking) "I know, I just thought that... nver mind, I just had a feeling."

Take these experiences however you would like

[Brant Gaede]

I live in a way and place where I seldom interact with cops. It's an unconcentrated suburban environment on the west side of Tucson outside the city limits. Since I hate going through border control highway checkpoints I'd not consider living much south of this city. The last time was four years ago late at night and I drove up into a blaze of lights and a big camera flash. I had two sleeping anglo passengers. So the agent stuck his head up close and asked me if I'm an American citizen. I emphatically replied, "The U S of A!", and jerked my head toward my friends, "All three of us." And on we went. He had no more questions for suspicious behavior was not from a highly irritated driver.

I once got a speeding ticket in the town I was living in in New Jersey, not because I was speeding but because I wasn't driving in a respect the cop way. He was on my rear and I didn't slow down to the suggested speed on a curve. On came the lights. The ticket was for 10 mph over what I was driving. (This was 1978.) I went down to the police dept and complained to the police chief and took it to court. The compliantant was a lieutenant on the force. Although I was convicted--I did a cross-examination--no one thought I was guilty including that police chief who showed up for the proceedings. That officer was directly in line to become the chief himself. Never made it.

Maybe 20 years ago I was talking to a young white man and he was telling how he got beat up in a small New Jersey police station. I asked him if he was still pissed off. Nope. He said he deserved it.

Once I was driving somewhat over the limit on the New Jersey Turnpike in my Chevy Caprice with another car with some friends following rather close behind. Looking in my rearview I suddenly saw him slowing down and another car I couldn't ID was coming up and passing us on the left. I figured cop and tapped my brake slowing down slightly but still speeding. That was respect for cop. The Highway Patrol slowed down slightly then speeded up and passed me and went on out of sight. Ten minutes later I came up on him again having stopped a sedan with several black males in it.

In 1969 I was talking to my young black mechanic in New Jersey and he told me he was doing 120 or so on the highway when a huge Chrysler police cruiser puled up next to him then dropped behind and turned on the lights. No ticket, just a conversation.

A Chinese-American type man I once played pool with told me he passed a NY Highway Patrol cruiser that was doing 120. That's right. He knew he was doing that. He was driving a Nissan sports car. So the lights came on. The problem was his ID revealed him to be a superior officer, though not in the trooper's chain of command. So the trooper started calling him "sir" this and "sir" that and apologized for stopping him. "But why, sir, were you doing 130?" "Why were you doing 120?" You see, for the trooper to write the ticker--he could have--he'd be asked in court why he was also illegal. That wouldn't get the defendant off, but the trooper would then find his job in jeopardy. Since the trooper was the inferior officer and himself was illegal, he was over-matched. So they parted as friends--sort of.

I once got a guest ride in a powerful Ford cop car, local, in town. Wow! The cop liked to put that hammer down! That would be reckless driving and excessive acceleration to you and me.

As a soldier who completed almost two years of training then subject to garrison duty, it was like the pits to be at Ft. Bragg in 1966. So I wrote Billie Alexander in Washington DC and told her to send me to Vietnam. I ended up in the Mekong Delta as one of two A-Team medics. As a Spec. 4 I had combat, medic, civil-affiars responsibilities, the last being an officer's. The only person jumior to me was the commo man. But everyone gave me respect and let me do my job(s). Why? The demo man didn't know how to be a medic except for the basics. The intelligence sergeants too. Heavy weapons, lights weapons, etc. The officers pretty much gave us all our head. Understand, not only did I escape garrison duty I escaped the grossly inferior status of anyone in the military in those days to the civilian population. The Vietnamese civilian population was another matter entirely. They had to keep out of everybody's way. The Americans, the South Vietnamese soldiers, the Viet Cong if not the North Vietnamese. It was war time. I'm talking about levels of caste too. We Americans did not tend to take advantage of this, but we were separate and above all others. The South Vietnamese were much more class conscious. The men actually had their women working as physical laborers which they refused to do. I'd wade into the water and help those women sometimes. Regardless, American law enforcement officers are in a world unto themselves and the more concentrated they are the more that world is for them and not for you nor me. Something I ~enjoyed~ in Vietnam but didn't really like. At least in SF we didn't do that Oliver Stone conventional combat unit stomping of the civilians. We generally advised the South Vietnamese Special Forces and had our own Vietnamese National Guard-like soldiers called CIDG--Civilian Irregular Defense Group. SF probably killed more communist soldiers for the buck in that war than any other unit no matter how they sliced it statistically.

So that's how it is. Cops think they are in a war zone. How do they get through 25 years of this crap without being killed? Who do they hang with? Those who have your back.

--Brant

[Mikee]

I appreciate your narratives and honesty Derek, I've enjoyed your presence on every discussion I've read you've participated in. I've had a couple of instances where I've been stopped and questioned by police for what appeared to be no reason but only a couple in my 66 years and those when I was young. Many more times stopped while speeding or rolling through a stop sign. I guess I'm not the best rule follower in the world. But I can't touch your list, which probably isn't exhaustive anyway. I have felt far more harassed by building inspectors whenever I've pulled a permit for a project on my house. Some of their nit picking is just unbelievable. I'm certain my worst experience was because I was an "owner-builder", the city requires city licenses from contractors who work in the city, if you don't hire one of them they city doesn't get the 1% fee they steal from them. Some contractors in my area won't even work in my city. Permit fees, inspection fees, license fees, the reappraisal fees and an increase in property taxes. To improve the looks, security, safety and value of your house they treat you like a criminal. One example, the drainage on my property wasn't good and I'm downhill from my backyard neighbors. I spent a summer digging a drainage system, about 250 ft of trenches with drain pipe, rocks, filter paper. I routed the downspouts from my roofs to my drainage system to carry all the water out to the front to the street. I put french drains in the back yard to catch the water from my uphill neighbors and route that to my system and out to the street. The last thing I needed to do was get across the front sidewalk in two places for the water to get to the gutters and down the street to the storm drains. I could have chiseled a hole in the curb, driven a pipe under the sidewalk and tie in. Seemed a little iffy to me so I called the city. It required an "encroachment" permit, a licensed contractor, a permit for the work. I had to completely redo two sections of sidewalk and the lower part of my driveway. Meanwhile the contractor broke the gas line to my house requiring the utility company to come out and fix it. Turned out my gas meter was an older model and required replacing that to. So I spent the summer doing 99% of the work for less than $500. The last four feet to the gutter cost about $6000 dollars. I think the city got about half of that. Kinda took a little of the joy off the "do it yourself" part. I still enjoy going out during a hard rain and watching all the water go down the street instead of piling up in my backyard.

The most exasperating and intractable problem we have in the United States is that "race" still makes a difference. I know my family had only one ruler for judging other people when I was growing up, their honesty and their work ethic and whether they were willing to help others in need. My aunt and uncle were mormons from utah and idaho. I did not know a single black person when living with my aunt and uncle but previously in Ohio from 6-8 years old lived in foster homes and went to grade school with "negros" as they were called back then. The most mentally messed up and just plain mean kids were white, not black in my memory. I kept to myself anyway and didn't have any friends of either race. As an adult I have had several role models who were black, starting with my company commander in Navy boot camp, Mr. Wright. He was a chief petty officer, career navy, assigned to the recruit training base. I started out my boot camp experience punching out the "RCPO" (recruit chief petty officer) for getting in my face and trying force me to do some menial task for him. I ended up in Mr Wrights office. He very civilly instructed me that though this person did not have the right to try to force me to do what he was asking me to do my reaction was incorrect. The "RCPO" ended up getting changed to another company and I ended up being the "EPO" (educational petty officer) for our company. I never forget that even though I was very much in the wrong, Mr Wright treated me with respect, gave me another chance and even put me in a position of responsibility. I worked very hard at it and our company got the highest test scores of any of the companies going through at the same time. When I finished navy schools and got assigned I ended up on an aircraft carrier as an interior communications tech. I stood watches in the forward IC room where the SINS (Ships Inertial Navigation System) equipment was located. This was not IC gear but was operated and looked after by the ET's (Electronics Technicians) who had a couple more years of training than the IC's. There was a black sailor, an ET, who used to stand watches on the SINS sometimes while I was in the forward IC room. I was very much intrigued by electronics and circuits and circuit analysis. I don't remember his name but he would answer any question I had about circuits. He was my mentor. I became the best circuit troubleshooter in the IC gang, I ended up being the shop supervisor of the 5MC gang (flight deck and general announcing systems). I was also reading Ayn Rand at the time, I'd finished with her novels and reading and re-reading Capitalism the Unknown Ideal. The ET guy was one of the few people willing to have a conversation with me on the essays in that book. Reading Ayn Rand gave me an interest in Economics. That lead to my finding Walter Williams and the very great Thomas Sowell. I would dive on a live hand grenade for either of those two without a seconds thought. I cannot understand how aware, literate person with a brain could believe that the "race" of a person is something that matters at all. That said, I lived in Oakland for a couple of years after returning to California from living up in Alaska for a year. I found a martial arts school nearby where I lived, run by a man named Julius Baker. Extremely well run, hard classes. I had a bit of trouble keeping up seeing I was already in my early thirties and losing a bit of stamina. All but a couple of the students were black. Mr. Baker was the best instructor I ever had, he was very hard but equally respectful and encouraging to his students. Men and women coming into the school just lit up, came alive inside the school. I had one slightly unnerving experience at the school though, while I was getting dressed before class there was a young man who was upset, and getting more upset by the minute. Several of the senior students came over and moved him some distance from me and calmed him down, then one guy came over and assured me everything was okay and not to worry. The young man (probably about 16-17) was upset because I was in the class, evidently something had happened to him that day someone white and he didn't want to come to his sanctuary, the school, and deal with another white man. Mr. Baker is someone I admire because if this problem between races is ever going to end it will be because of the efforts of men like him. A great man, a man of compassion and strength and understanding and undeterred purpose. Unfortunately the books of Walter Williams, Thomas Sowell, Ayn Rand and others will continue to be unread by most. And hucksters will continue to profit by lies. I would like to amend the constitution somehow to prevent proven liars from participating in any way in the government. Every lie spoken by a politician disenfranchises voters more surely than preventing them from voting in the first place. Any citizen lied to should be able to bring charges against the liars and throw them out. When will honesty be the trait most admired by people in other people?

[william.scherk]

Thanks for this spare and straightfoward recounting, Derek.

My heart aches sometimes looking at America next to its glorious ideals.

I think the moral imbalance at root is persistent racial segregation, which multiplies in knockon effects of social exclusion.

Two heads of state in Ottawa, sharing a joke on the tarmac in 2009:

Edited December 24, 2014 by william.scherk

[Jules Troy]

We had a black man up from the southern states for some training and we had an interesting conversation or two. He absolutely loved Canada. He said "this is what the US is supposed to be like but isn't." Up here he was not treated like a "black man". Just a man. The only thing negative he had to say was "damn smokes and beer is expensive up here and it's freeeking cold!"

[Jonathan]

I've had some odd experiences with police.

I was out for a walk after supper one summer evening in a small Minnesota city when I saw, a block ahead, two police cars parked in the middle of the street. Two officers were standing outside of the cars talking. They spotted me, jumped into their cars, and came roaring up the street at me. One of the cars came up unto the sidewalk as it neared me, and its driver quickly got out and ducked behind his door with his pistol aimed at me. The other car pulled up closer, though still in the street, and the officer driving it also got out with his pistol aimed at me. They told me to put my hands on top of my head, and then asked what the hell I thought I was doing. I told them that I was out for a walk, and asked them what the problem was. They didn't answer. They asked me my name and address. I told them, and then stood there waiting as one of them called it in for verification. Then they were gone, with no explanation or apology.

Another evening in a different town I was out for a walk on the walking path of a riverside park. As I was walking I picked up long weed stalk and was sort of mindlessly playing with it -- dragging it along, then tapping it on the walk in front of me like a walking stick, etc. I came around a bend, and blocking my way was a young cop who looked at me as if I was brandishing a weapon. He wanted to know what I was thinking about doing with the "big stick," which wasn't a big stick at all, but just barely the equivalent of an eighth-inch dowel. He ordered me to drop it and then demanded that I show him some identification. He called it in, and then let me go.

I was working about an hour late at my current place of employment when I heard the outer door open. I assumed it would be a co-worker stopping in to pick something up that was forgotten, so I didn't get up to see who it was immediately. A moment later a deep voice barked, "Who's in here? Show youself. Identify yourself." I came out of my office and walked toward the front entrance where there was a sherif's deputy with a snarling german shepherd. He asked me what I was doing in the building, and I told him that I was working. "So, you're employed here?" He asked. I thought of answering that, no, I wasn't employed there, but that I liked to break into places and work, but thought better and just answered,"Yes." He looked at me with suspicion for a few more seconds and then left.

J

[Jules Troy]

J that is messed up!!

[Michael Stuart Kelly]

Derek,

Since you are into writing, let me turn you on to one of the best writing teachers out there if you do not already know him: Brian McDonald. I mention him here because he is black and a screenwriter. He's an anomaly because screenwriting is a predominantly white male field at the top. Brian is a guru to several top screenwriters, though, and teaches at Pixar.

On racism, he wrote and directed one of the cleverest films I know of. I haven's seen it, but I have read the screenplay since he uses it as an example in one of his books (Invisible Ink). It's a short film called White Face. Apparently, this is shown all the time in schools all over the country.

This is about clowns in typical situations in life and being discriminated against as stereotypes through attitudes typically used for racial discrimination. Some of the dialogue is quite funny:

One clown said, "Many people erroneously believe that things have changed because of certain celebrity Clowns. And, indeed, some Clowns have done quite well for themselves—many by playing up offensive circus stereotypes."

When another clown was using a bicycle horn to communicate with a prejudiced customer in an auto mechanic's shop, the bigot said, "Great. This one doesn't even speak English. I try to help you people out, give you a little business and you try and cheat me."

Another clown being interviewed said, "I talked my cousin Rollo into staying in this country. Sure it has it's problems, but I still think it's the best country in the world. Things are getting better all the time for Clowns. The way things are going it looks like, one day, we might even have a Clown in the White House."

But Brian said something in an interview (I can't remember right now--I think it was The High Bar interview linked below, but I'm not sure without re-seeing it) when he was talking about the race difficulties he encountered in the screenwriting world (and, also, how he works with a lot of people where race is not an issue). It was one of the most poignant things I ever heard anyone say about race. I can't remember the exact words, but he said it was hard to communicate the experience of walking around in a body that constantly reminds people of crime.

That got to me, for some reason. Elegantly expressed.

Here are some links if you are interested. I don't have his film, but I have all three writing books. I've read them and I still study them. I read his blog. And I have seen most all his videos online. And I have listened to him in a crapload of podcasts. I haven't read any of his comics or seen any of his films, yet.

Books (on Amazon):

Invisible Ink: A Practical Guide to Building Stories that Resonate

The Golden Theme: How to make your writing appeal to the highest common denominator

Ink Spots

His blog (in my opinion, one of the best on screenwriting anywhere):

The Invisible Ink Blog

Some videos:

The Acts

A Story's Habitat

Creating Characters From Your Story's Theme :: with Brian McDonald :: Paper Wings Show #28

Creating Characters From Your Story’s Theme (Part 2) :: with Brian McDonald :: Paper Wings Show #29

Sorry for so many videos. I'm just enthusiastic about this guy. I have an ulterior motive for posting them--I want an easy reference for going back and watching this stuff again.

Here's a link to a video on Vimeo (embedding is possible, but more complicated, and I don't want this page to be too hard to load).

Interview on The High Bar with Warren Etheredge

Brian McDonald: on Cinematic Storytelling

Here are several podcasts at 20/20 Awards.

That's enough for now on Brian. I hope you like him if you did not know about him. And if you did, I hope you are a fan, too. (If not, that's OK. )

This post should actually go into the writing section.

Michael

[Selene]

In certain custody cases where there is active parental alienation, or just plain ovary or ball busting by one or both of the ex-significant others and there is a distinct difference when our member, or, client was black and the visitation/access was in a predominantly black neighborhood and the police were white females.

It was palpable.

The really treacherous incidents are when there is a domestic violence call.

We had worked out a partition of the house in a very nice upper middle class community where the husband lived in the downstairs apartment. I was there working on an agreement and unbeknown to us, his spouse had called the police and let them in.

Two Nassau County officers came storming down with their weapons drawn I was the first one they saw and I handle officers properly and defused the confrontation. Our organization had an excellent reputation with the police.

The guy had a big white talking screeching bird that started shrieking KILL BITCH from the other room...damn near got me shot!!

A....

[studiodekadent]

I've heard it said that the kind of people who are interested in being cops are typically the kind of people you DO NOT WANT to become cops.

Ergo, lots of bigoted and/or power-lusting people in the force.

I've been profiled by cops too, on the basis of my appearance, but its only happened a few times. Thankfully.

I am truly horrified, Derek, to hear of the suspicion you've had to deal with.