Frederick - No Mans Property

I often wonder how things came to this. Where did the concept of authority, of I own or manage you come from? Why has it been maintained for so many centuries? Is every man a coward? As I’ve grown and matured into an adult, my views on the world have changed, and I feel that most Americans my age won’t notice it for years to come if at all, as it doesn’t apply to most. Being a young African American male in this white man’s America automatically makes me a threat in the eyes of those made ignorant by the media and misconceptions of the Black male. It’s sad to say, but a truth I can't ignore.

Dealing with things that I once considered harmless such as a cop asking me where I’m going late at night or asking to see my bike registration (they have that in Oak Park..) didn’t bother me in the least when I was sixteen, but now that I’m 21, a grown male in their eyes, such situations have ended ugly for me because I refuse to be dominated. Now don’t take this as “I’m a bad ass.. No one can tell me shit!” but instead as “I’m a grown man, please explain why your hindering my day officer.” I remember a time when I was leaving the town next to my own, River Forest, around 2 or 3 am. As I road my bike through the streets with no hands, I noticed a cop car lurking half a block behind me, creeping closer and closer at a steady 15 mph pace. I continued to ride, with my hands our like an airplane, thinking "What ever, i'm almost home and I've done nothing wrong."

When he finally reached me three blocks later he turned his flashers on and an immense feeling of doom overcame me. He sat in his car for about three minutes before he even got out, which didn’t help the stones in my stomach stop tumbling. Out of nowhere, three other officers pulled up with lights blazing and neighbors began to come out and watch. The initial officer who pulled me over approached me once the rest of the officers exited their cars. He ordered me off my bike and onto the curb but I refused, asking “Did I do something wrong officer? Please explain what I did wrong because I’m sure I broke no laws while riding my bike” I had a smug smirk on my face, but not because of a cocky “you can’t touch me” attitude, but because I didn’t want them to know how afraid I was. He told me to shut up, and ordered me off the bike again, so I slowly got off and took a seat on the curb as instructed. As I sat there I listened to all my neighbors whisper “I wonder what He did?” “He’s probably got drugs!” and “I knew he was no good.” I didn’t care about what they were saying, but it hurt my opinion of my own persona. I again asked the officer to explain what I did wrong as he turned my bike over and inspected it.

“Whose bike is this?” he asked with a suspicious look in his eye. “Mine! Why did you stop me? This is fucked up!” I replied, sounding half chocked as I was trying not to tear up. My eyes water so hard when I get extremely frustrated and the officer had me way beyond that point. He chuckled and made told me to get against his car where the other officers frisked me checked my shoes and even my bike seat. They wanted to prove I either had drugs or stole the bike. Once one of the officers pushed me and told me to stop fucking around for asking what I did a third time, some of the black neighbors yelled “I’m recording all of this!” and that made the officers nervous. Once another neighbor who was white yelled, “Let them do their job!” I chimed in with “What job? Make me look like a criminal for riding a bike?” Another few minutes of this passed and the officers eventually just told me to get out of their sight. I rode home wondering, what if the neighbors weren’t out there? Why had they targeted me in such a bogus way? It’s a strange feeling, knowing you were just the target of a crime you hear about, but never expect to happen to you. Watch this video; it’s not the same as my situation, but the same situation.

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