Trust me, my CCW Permit was always on TOP of my drivers license, registration, etc.
Quote from: PrimeTimer on July 11, 2016, 08:42:16 PMI've had a gun pulled on me twice. First thought was "someone please call the police!"I'll bet you are white. If you were black, you would be thinking "I hope these cops doni't shoot".
I've had a gun pulled on me twice. First thought was "someone please call the police!"
Others have written about the history of policing in the United States — especially in the South — and its roots in the slave patrol. So it should come as no great leap to consider that participating in policing in 21st century America could scar one’s soul.This is not about being an apologist for the individuals responsible for the killing of black life. It is not about comparing the suffering of black communities to that of law enforcement. But in nonviolence, we know that if you don’t understand the perspective of those who you are in conflict with, you do not understand the conflict. You do not need to agree with, excuse or justify the other’s perspective, you simply need to understand it so you can see the complete picture.And part of the picture looks like this: Cops are human. They work for an institution with historical ties to slavery and a long legacy of racism. They are indoctrinated in a culture of “us vs. them,” of doing “whatever is necessary so you get home,” of fear, distrust, and dehumanization of those deemed as being on “the other side.” They are taught to fear for their lives. They are trained almost exclusively in tactics of violence and repression. They are sent into situations of conflict every day with those limited tools, into communities where they are playing out tensions that have been brewing for hundreds of years.Looking at that picture, no one should be surprised at incidents of police violence, and we should all understand that to some extent, it is rooted in the spiritual and emotional degradation that results from being immersed in such a violent institution.I’ve been thinking lately about Eric Casebolt, the officer who responded to a call at a pool party in McKinney, Texas and proceeded to throw a young girl onto the ground and point his gun at other teenagers.Casebolt should have been fired immediately, and his record should follow him everywhere, preventing him from ever having employment as a cop or even as a security guard.If we look more into the history of that conflict, the story of Casebolt’s own trauma begins to emerge. The pool party was the third call that he attended to that day. His first was a suicide where he witnessed a man blow his head off in front of his family, and had to console the family. Immediately after, he was called to another attempted suicide, where he had to talk a young girl down from jumping off a ledge — also in front of her family. By the time he reached the pool party, he was an emotional wreck.Again, that’s not to excuse his actions as an individual. But understanding that context and perspective also allows us to point our fingers at the larger culprit: a system of policing that didn’t care enough about Casebolt’s mental health that they couldn’t even give him the rest of the day off. A culture of machismo that doesn’t give space for cops like Casebolt to grieve or process what he just went through.When the system comes together to defend cops like Casebolt, their defense of him is a smokescreen. The system doesn’t care about any individuals — the individuals are dispensable. It is trying to distract us from the fact that the system itself is corrupt. If the system truly cared about the people who work in the system, it would create fundamental changes to stop the killings of black people, thereby decreasing the chances of retaliatory killings like the ones in Dallas.But for us, the more we focus our anger on the individual who pulled the trigger, the more we are letting the system off the hook. And the more the system defends the individual, the more we want to see him or her locked up, as if they are the problem. Hook, line and sinker.Individual accountability requires healing, and a space for the perpetrator of the harm to feel remorse for their actions. I’ve learned over time that people can’t empathize with the pain that they caused until their own pain and story has been honored. So, can we build a movement that honors the pain of the officers, creates spaces to help them see the pain that they cause, and — following the example of former Baltimore officer Michael Wood — allows them to defect from a system that doesn’t serve them either?And can we hold that level of compassion without pacifying our righteous indignation towards a system that doesn’t value human life? How do we build a fierce and powerful resistance movement that addresses the individual and the system? What does it look like to hold individuals accountable with compassion, and systems accountable with indignation?#AltonSterling, #PhilandoCastile and #Dallas are sobering reminders that violent institutions are causing human death on all sides. And until we find justice for all people, their spirits will be with us, nudging us to answer those questions.
We pay the police to protect us from the bad.
Isn't this what they call, 'Political Spin'? Twist the truth and facts to support a position? And the general public falls for it every time.
I wish I could be distracted from fraudulent Don the Con's lies and venom.
I think any black male has reason to be terrified any time he has any interaction with a cop because there have been just to many mistaken, accidental shootings.
Can you imagine a Trump/Gingrich ticket?
Quote from: kickingandscreaming on July 14, 2016, 10:18:31 AMI wish I could be distracted from fraudulent Don the Con's lies and venom.You can be certain - we will have a sleazy liar in the whitehouse next term no matter who wins. Ds and Rs tend to ignore the transgressions of the candidate on their side, but that does not make him/her any less sleazy.
You can be certain - we will have a sleazy liar in the whitehouse next term no matter who wins.