I was walking down the street in my neighborhood in San Francisco, when I saw a young black guy walking towards me, about 20 years old, pants sagging, and I felt a flash of fear. A brief but overwhelming surge of concern for this young man’s life. It was a new and disturbing feeling.
In the last several weeks I, along with many, have experienced a mix of emotions over the deaths, and subsequent grand jury decisions not to indict in the killings of Michael Brown, John Crawford III and Eric Garner. Frustration that our justice system keeps delivering the same unjust result and declaring itself in good working order. Anger that so many refuse to acknowledge a problem. Sadness for these victims’ families and the unnecessary loss of life.
But the fear is new. I have the luxury of seeing the repeated violence and discriminating treatment of African-Americans from a removed position. I am an Indian-American woman who has never been harassed by a police officer. I know it’s wrong and believe we are in desperate need of some changes to our criminal justice system, but I have the privilege of setting down that anger and frustration when it’s time for happy hour or the new Hobbit movie.
What this year’s horrific loop of deja vu has made me realize is not just the anger and frustration of targeted communities, but the fear they carry that is impossible to put down. I am just starting to get the shallowest of understandings of the state of defense many black Americans are in when interacting with the police. In an intensely heartbreaking and eye-opening article, black mothers tell us about the constant warnings they give their sons to be humble, not to reach for anything and to submit – all with the objective of getting home alive. And I’m just starting to realize how many of my black friends have these stories, I just didn’t know.
When carrying an air rifle in the store where you purchased it, in an open carry state, can get you shot. When being a little boy playing in a park with a toy gun can get you shot. When selling un-taxed cigarettes can get you choked to death. The point is not that all cops are racists deliberately killing African-Americans, one at a time, but rather that, black people in this country have a reasonable concern for their own safety in any given interaction with a police officer.
In addition to the fear, my mistrust is new. Upon hearing about police brutality cases and cover ups in the past, I’ve been prone to believe the charges against an organization that is tasked with both protecting and prosecuting its own. (The U.S. military’s handling of sexual assault on soldiers and the Catholic Church’s failures to protect children from predator priests come to mind). These organizations are made up of people, and particularly as you move up a power structure, people are self-serving and defensive, valuing the status quo and expediency over justice. But any previous interaction I’ve had with an individual police officer has been devoid of any tension. I would see a cop walking down the street, and I assume he is doing his job, doing his job well, and that we are all benefiting from his service. With that belief, it would never occur to me to do anything but comply with an order from a police officer.
However, I no longer hold that belief. Now when I see police officers, particularly in groups, sometimes I stop and watch. I’m cautious and hesitantly suspicious. I still live in the bubble of privilege where I don’t have concern for my own safety, but I am no longer convinced that I shouldn’t be concerned for someone else’s. It’s not an either/or proposition. I still believe there are cops who do their jobs well, but now, I will not always assume that’s the police officer in front of me. In not ever questioning how an officer chooses to use his authority, I am complicit in trading my safety for the lives of others. In this environment of fear and mistrust, the lives of both civilians and police officers are more at risk.
And so I was scared for that young black man walking down the street, and I hope that he made it home okay. I hope that they all make it home okay.
I recently attended a screening of Alliance for Justice’s short film “Lost in the Fine Print” about the growing threat of forced arbitration. Forced arbitration is a part of many contracts for services, products and even jobs. All that gobbledygook that you scroll past to check the box “Yes, I accept the Terms & Conditions”, aka TL;DR contracts. It says that if you ever have a problem with the company, it must be decided through arbitration. A private arbitrator, hired by the company, decides the dispute based on rules often drafted by industry insiders. I had learned about forced arbitration and contracts of adhesion in my first year of law school, but I never really gave it much thought. It seemed like such a ludicrous thing to actually exist. Sure, companies could require arbitration to settle disputes, but eventually, you could get your day in court, couldn’t you? It’s just too absurd to think otherwise. But there is no appeal. Once an arbitrator hands down his decision, that’s it, game over.
U.S. Congressman Hank Johnson describes forced arbitration clauses as establishing a “for-profit system of justice”, but with 94% of arbitrators ruling in favor of the company that hired them, a for-profit system of judgement might be a more accurate description. Within these contracts, companies write their own exit ramp from the public justice system. Essentially, companies opt out of complying with federal and state laws, and by burying their intentions in the fine print, dupe us into agreeing to it. These contracts exempt companies from complying with anti-discrimination, public health, and consumer protection laws. And so far, the courts, our courts, haven’t done anything to stop it.
The power of these clauses it that they are so hidden from public view. Common sense screams in protest to this theft of our rights, but only once you know about it. So if you don’t know, now you know.
Is it just me or is the rate of sinkholes increasing disturbingly rapidly? One near Pittsburgh,PA is just the latest. Is it aging underground infrastructure or the intensity with which we interfere with the ecosystem beneath our feet? Or is it a case of Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon aka frequency illusion? (I just discovered that term! But back to sinkholes.) From Oregon to Kentucky, from Detroit to Spring Hill, these things are everywhere.
Most people would understandably be frightened or nervous with the ground disappearing beneath them, although others are taking a different approach and trying to incorporate sinkholes into daily life. As I understood it from Biology 101, Equilibrium and balance are not just new age words, but rather the guiding principles behind biological survival. Folks who deny mankind’s detrimental impact on our environment baffle me. The Earth is literally opening up and swallowing us whole.
All the idioms, being down-to-earth, steady as a rock, keeping your feet on solid ground, will cease to make any sense if every step is like the scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.
In case you missed it, a federal judge, the Honorable John E. Jones, ruled the Pennsylvania ban on same-sex marriage unconstitutional. I am overjoyed that PA has finally joined the ranks of the states that have marriage equality. Prior to this ruling, being the only state in the Northeast that did not recognize civil marriage for gay and lesbian couples was an embarrassing and shameful distinction.
I recently made a cross-country move from Pennsylvania to California which made it bittersweet to hear about the long-awaited moment of change in the state where I have spent practically the entirety of my adult life. Of course, I’m thrilled for those who will now be able to have their relationships recognized by their home state. (Waiting on wedding announcements as we speak.) And I’m relieved that friends who left Pennsylvania in order to have their marriage acknowledged and protected now have the option to return home. But I am also sad to have missed the moment that my government finally gave me something I have been pissed about for 15 years.
In the terms of the LGBT movement you would call me an ally, and as an ally, I am happy that Pennsylvania has taken this critical step to stop discrimination against the LGBT community. But beyond that, as an American and Pennsylvanian, this decision to live up to the promise of our republic’s commitment to equality under the law moves me. Despite the U.S. Supreme Court’s ruling striking down the Defense of Marriage Act in June 2013, where I lived, marriage equality was not a legal reality. (Sadly, that remains true for a majority, but ever shrinking!, portion of Americans. )
Legally sanctioned discrimination galls me. But more than that, it offends my patriotism. Equal protection under the law and separation between church and state are fundamental to our purpose as a nation. I am a proud straight Catholic American. If I get married, I want to make a promise before God in a church and register with the state to access all the benefits my commitment entitles me to. The former is a matter of choice, the latter a matter of right.
I have always maintained pride in my faith, but that hasn’t always equaled pride in my Church. Last week, following Pope Francis’ statements, I had a moment where I didn’t have to make the distinction. While not changing official Catholic doctrine that unfortunately still maintains a stance against homosexuality and same-sex marriage, the Pope’s comments were an unheard of departure from the traditional rhetoric of condemnation. Within an institution that is historically slow to keep up with the times (i.e., science, slavery, etc), this is the long hoped for first step towards a Catholic Church that reflects compassion and respect for all people.
And in response... 