Why Don’t I Feel Safe?

The Nation’s Capital is on lockdown. All of the main streets heading into the Capitol Hill area are blockaded with armed National Guard or Metropolitan Police. National Guard is strolling leisurely down the street brandishing assault rifles and there are police cars everywhere. So, why as I exit my car to take some pictures of the magnitude of this situation did my heart start to race the closer I got to the police and guardsmen? Why did white pedestrians, with cameras, taking cell phone pictures appear to be more relaxed? They strolled along, exchanging conversations with police and guards, biked, and jogged through streets normally bustling with traffic. I kept wondering, why don’t I feel safe?

The events of January 6th angered me. The following updates on how a Black Capitol Hill policeman initially appearing in retreat from a mob which may actually have saved the vice president from harm, made me somewhat proud. However, today presented a new twist to this Black man’s tale in America. When do we get to feel safe?  It’s not when you get pulled over in a major metropolitan city. It’s definitely not when traveling some back road usually policed by some small-town sheriff. Absolutely not when this journalist is in any southern city or town. Echoes of Jim Crow still ring through my head.

You would think there would be no reason to feel fear when the people around you are supposedly there to protect you. But then you see the subtle nuances of policing lost on most people. For example, a number of people gathered in the intersection I approached to take the featured picture. They were taking cell phone pictures, others were up to the gate chatting with police on the other side. It felt like a social gathering. Peaceful and calm. However, as I entered the same intersection, one of the armed Capitol Hill policemen started to seem agitated. He began to mill about then as if propelled by something from nowhere I heard “Everybody out of the street.”  Why did it seem directed at me?

Normally, I choose which camera I take on a shoot. The more sketchy the environment, the fewer lenses or equipment I take with me. I sometimes go down to a point and shoot and in even sketchier situations I’ll rely on my cell phone. That was the case today. “I’d be careful taking too many pictures down there.” That was the advice of one Black MPD officer when asked about taking pictures. “Somebody might get uneasy if you are taking too many pictures” he said as he tossed his hands to the sky. He said it with a sincerity that made me heed his warning.

I’ll end this post where I started, In all honesty, I will never feel safe. The further I got away from Capitol Hill the calmer I felt. I was so glad to be back in my neighborhood. I felt like kneeling down and kissing the ground. Bring on the Proud Boys, the anarchists, and the white supremacist! I can handle them. It might feel good to take one of them down! Meanwhile, I felt more at ease walking through the hoard of Trump supporters during their “stop the steal” rally than I did today.  That says all you need to know about being a Black man in America.

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