I was stopped, and frisked today. I was surprised because I thought the police were forced to stop this sort of thing.
It happened on a subway platform. This on my way home from picking up a few library books. I was the only Black person there so of course.
I was put against the wall my legs spread. My person was thoroughly searched. Oddly they found nothing. Black, but not a criminal.
They dumped out my shoulder bag saw the books, and wanted to see the receipt from the library...which I had. It was in my pocket along with my keys, and camera. They'd already seen them, but any of these could still be a gun.
They dumped out my shoulder bag saw the books, and wanted to see the receipt from the library...which I had. It was in my pocket along with my keys, and camera. They'd already seen them, but any of these could still be a gun.
So I die. I thought this. This is my time. I'm going to be shot dead for going to the library to get two books about Emerson, and Walt Whitman.
Black men have been shot dead for far less. One of the cops reached into my inside jacket pocket, again,...gun drawn, and got the receipt. It matched my library card.
This is far from the first time, and far from the last. I'm just weary of the game is all. Still this time I was certain I was going to die going to be killed. I don't know how to communicate this to you. I'm home in my digs in a safe place with my beloved stuff.
However,...however.
This time was different. At least for me. To the cops routine, but for me I knew I would never see my family my friends the sky the rain the snow hot showers hot meals hear jokes take walks go on adventures with my dear sister sleep wake up be happy be bored be annoyed smart make mistakes listen to, and feel the wind,...all would vanish as if it never were.
I would end on a subway platform on the ground with Emerson, and Whitman, and the cops calling the incident in.
Thank you all for caring. Yes it's strange to be at the center of such an incident. A potentially deadly police encounter. As I told friends last night while it was happening I was not angry or afraid. It was like being in a strange dream.
ReplyDeleteToday having slept, and thought about it. It is still as I said.
It was just my turn,...again.
The first time was when I was six. I was a small child yet picked off the street under suspicion of assault, and robbery. Mind you I had just at that time stopped sucking my thumb. However I was Colored so capable of any crime regardless of age.
Over 60 years later the other bookend to round off this life.
I'm just weary of the play. One neither comedy nor tragedy. Just a long grey mist of confusing happenstance.
I won't be leaving my digs much anymore. Being a partial shut-in I forgot how actually physically dangerous it is out there. I both forgot I was Black, and that this City is an actual armed madhouse.
Other than all this I'm still me.
We go on together from here.