I really hate this one. I grew up privileged in my suburb. I had a great relationship with our local police. I believed we had a department I could trust. I honestly don’t know if, in that suburb, there was a double standard. I really, really don’t. I won’t let go of those memories. Can’t.
The problem is when I let that past get in the way of what, on a much bigger and deadlier scale, is very, very true. Yes, dammit, it is. It has been in every fucking place I’ve ever lived outside of the suburb in which I grew up. I can look back on those and see it. I hear it when I listen directly to the people around me and their experiences. I’ve been doing my research. (Grad school taught me how – meaning we go well beyond any news source.)
I mourn what was never true for other people. I received a privilege that I still have and never even paid a penny for. Mourning is too passive, though. Fixing it is a must.