Hannah Jackson
As diverse as this College is purported to be (and at many times is) there is still a rift between the treatment students receive and the treatment that we deserve. On Homecoming weekend, I was able to observe this gap. I watched as a first year who had been one in a sea of students outside minding his business was roughly forced into handcuffs and the back of a police car. Though he consistently and clearly asked the officers taking him, “Stop jerking me around. Can you please stop jerking me around?” they continued pulling him, tripping him up and shoving him into the car. To my knowledge, he was not intoxicated. So, what was his crime?
While I was standing there, watching this happen, at least three more cars came speeding down the street. One pulled up to where we stood, sirens and high beams on, and proceeded to jerk forward, as if it was going to hit us. The officer driving yelled “Get out of the way.”
We were standing on the sidewalk.
And were all these extra bodies really needed for the arrest of one boy, whose only act of “resistance” was asking to be less roughly treated?
This isn’t to say that he was systematically picked and arrested for the color of his skin or that all law enforcement officers have ill will toward people of color. However, their treatment of him was not reflective of all individuals who have been given guns and badges and entrusted with peoples’ safety.
There is a problem when you and a friend who isn’t a person of color can attend the same college but you have to be ten times more aware of what you are saying and doing and of who you are with in order to ensure your safety. There is an ever-present risk in simply being alive because of the implications that come with skin color, whether we recognize them or not. The all-American double standard of race is not a factor easily disregarded and certainly not easily overcome.
People of color are often raised to remember not to go past a certain point when they’re playing outside, never look police officers in the eye and, even as adults, not to go to a particular party because you could easily be mixed in with the sort of crowd hosting it, and that could mean trouble for you.
What do you do, then, when you no longer feel safe at a school you love? What happens when you can’t separate the name of your school from your nervousness about security? And how can you possibly comprehend dressing up and going out with friends you’ve grown to love when you still have to keep in mind the rules of life you were given as a child?