Thoughts of a police officer’s daughter.
Today has been the hardest day I’ve had in a while. Normally, things like this don’t bother me, but for some reason, the attack on police in Dallas has really struck a nerve. Perhaps it’s the fact that it was the biggest single attack on police officers since 9/11. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve seen others fail to take into account the hurt and offense their words may bring to others. Or perhaps it’s the fact that for the past 21 years, I’ve had to live in fear that my dad might not make it home in the morning. When I heard what had happened, the hurt that I felt was stronger than I had ever felt before. I put myself into the shoes of those police officers’ children and families. There’s something about being a police kid that is hard to describe. It is like we are our own family. When one of us hurts, you can feel it all the way across the country. I’ll never know the exact pain they are going through, but I am no stranger to the pain that you go through when you get that phone call or visit saying that your dad has been hurt. But there are those in this country and in this world that are oblivious to the pain that these children and family members are going through. Take a moment to think. Put your mom or dad into my dad’s shoes, or, better yet, put yourself in my shoes. Try to imagine what it would be like to receive that dreaded call asking you to rush to the hospital right away, leaving in the middle of the night, not knowing what you were going to see when you got there. The ignorance that people have towards these feelings is one of the hardest things to deal with as a police kid. My entire life, my dad as been my hero. He used to be a lot of other people’s hero too. But now, the world is changing. My dad is no longer looked at as the man who stopped that man from killing anyone else. Now he is looked at as the enemy. Sure, you can show my dad anger when he stops you for breaking the law, but remember that the minute you need someone to search your house for a burglar because your back door was broken into.
Now my dad, he is a lot stronger than I am. As we talked about what happened last night, he reassured me that he takes every precaution necessary and does all that he can to stay safe. But that doesn’t take away the worry I feel when we drive around town in his police car. We’ll pull up to a car whose driver is suspiciously fumbling with something over their shoulder, and my heart will stop. Even coming home has me anxious. Anytime I see sirens headed towards my house as I am coming back from work, I am afraid I’m going to show up and someone will have hurt my dad because they saw his police car in the driveway. Besides my police family, no one else can understand these feelings, nor should they pretend to.
Let me get this out there, I am in NO WAY saying there are not corrupt, racist police officers. Trust me, I’ve met them, and they are definitely a real problem. If I could change their beliefs simply by saying something to them, I would. But that won’t work. Our country has a serious problem. It is a problem rooted in centuries of hatred dating all the way back to the start. Instead of focusing on our differences, whether it be race, religion, gender, sexual preference, etc., lets grow our country as one people. One people who want to see a more peaceful, RESPECTFUL place to live. One where no one lives in fear because of their profession. One where no one lives in fear because of their race. One that we want our children to grow up in.
This didn’t come out as eloquent as I had hoped, but I think I get my point across.
Respect each other. Treat others the way you would want to be treated.
andulkaphoto
titsay
amandla
gummygunk
