What a Weekend - Part One: I Got Karened...Twice

It’s disheartening, and also somehow comforting, to see protests breaking out across the country. Most major cities, and some very small ones, are experiencing a degree of civil unrest. This is a good thing. For a couple of reasons. First, it tells us that there is a problem in this country and it is widespread. Second, it tells us that people are aware that something is wrong, even if they can’t articulate the exact thing. Last, it tells us that civil disobedience does still have something of an impact.

This was the first time, in a very long time, that I can remember being physically afraid for my life. It wasn’t a specific fear, like a lion in the brush, but an all-encompassing feeling of unease and agitation. To be clear: I do not live near the protests. I live in a second-ring suburb of St. Paul. At no point have I ever been in any danger from the protesters. But there’s a new element in my neighborhood that’s been keeping me up at night and filling me with anxiety.

That’s an army of state patrol officers. While Metro Transit saw fit to deny people who pay for and rely on it’s service to move around the city, including to and from jobs, healthcare, and caring for relatives, they were not too busy to be used as a de facto UberX for an invading force. And yes, they are an invading force. These are officers from all over the state. They may have never patrolled in an urban environment. They have likely seen more black people on TV this week than they’ve encountered in their entire lives. We don’t really know who they are, where they come from, what their training or temperament is.

The group above hanging out behind the bus had at least one uniformed officer smoking. And if you notice to the far right there’s a group of people. More on them later. But there were a number of children around. Not sure it’s a great look for a uniform to be smoking in front of them. I’m not one who runs around screaming “think of the children” but if you want to be held up as some kind of heroes or role models, you have to live up to it. Get some gum. Or a patch. Not sure I want someone stomping around a city firing tear gas during a nic-fit. In any event, don’t smoke in front of the kids.

Speaking of the children, there were SO many people out! I couldn’t believe it. And they all seemed mostly cool with what was happening. A few passersby stopped and took photos but for most of the white citizens of suburbia, they were fine with it. They felt safe and comfortable with an army (maybe 100 officers, give or take) staging together where we ride bikes and wild turkeys flap about. How could they be ok with this? These troops would be sent into the cities to march on and inflict pain onto our fellow citizens, people who were standing up to this exact kind of oppression and show of force. It was sheer stupidity and reminded me of the people who picnicked at the Battle of Bull Run. They were spectators of war, people so privileged and oblivious that they had these two concurrent thoughts:

“By Jov, isn’t there a war on today?”

“Jolly good. Let’s bring sammies.”

Why would these white people be chatting up these forces like it wasn’t no thing? It was because they identified more with the people upholding and defending white supremacy than the people trying to tear it down. The cops were quite comfortable in my little town. I’m pretty sure someone brought them lemon squares. It was an outrageous provocation and I seethed with rage at their presence.

Now is the point in this post where I have to cop to my own stupidity and inability to completely control my emotions. When I saw what was happening in my neighborhood, the magnitude of the forces, and how they were gearing up to attack people I consider my allies, I was paralyzed with both fears for my safety and by my inability to do anything of substance. I wanted to park my car in the road, or better yet get a huge truck (not unlike the one that nearly caused a massacre) and just trap them all in there.

It wasn’t their mere presence that got my back up. It was how comfortable they were. They felt at home, and why shouldn’t they. They were almost entirely white officers (I could count two black cops but it’s not like I’m a census worker). They lived in the suburbs, one much the same as Oakdale, home to accused murderer Derek Chauvin, the asswipe who started all this shit. This is a major problem with policing: those patrolling and controlling don’t live in the communities they police. They’re unfamiliar with what’s normal, what’s threatening and not, they don’t know the people. And it leads to problems.

I wanted to let them know they weren’t as safe as they thought they were. They weren’t behind the white wall of silence. I wanted them to know that our eyes were still watching and they were still accountable. So I covered my face with a bandana and headed out to take some photos and let them know that they weren’t as cozy as they thought.

A note on the bandana. I wore it for a few reasons. One, corona. Two, my normal mask has mickey mouse ears on it and just really isn’t that tough looking. Three, my aim was to show the cops that even here in suburbia masked people would still find them and watch them. I tried to look like a protestor, I guess. Also, I didn’t know what would happen. They might have grabbed me for all I knew. They’ve been doing a lot worse around the country. But I’m also a white man who lives in the area. I figured the risk was low. And it was…

Except that I had not considered my neighbors. The town I live in is 85% white. 10% Asian. And the rest, a smattering of other minorities. Not exactly Chocolate City. A combination of my own privilege, an assumption that since I was on the right side they would be too, and the media stoking fears all day about ANTIFA (more on them this week) made me appear to my fellow Edgewood Acre-ites as a danger. It was curious to me that a person coming out to document and observe (what was essentially a temporary invasion of our streets) was seen as more of a threat than all the white guys with body armor and guns. I could feel their discomfort almost immediately. They stared at me as I went by, recording the rows and rows of buses lined up in the street.

I’m not going to lie. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed scaring whitey. I hated that my neighbors saw this assembly of forces as a good thing, a comforting thing. I wanted to chant “pigs go home” but I’d have had better luck trying to get a Yankees Suck chant going in the Bronx. It was clear that I was on my own out here. So I play-acted a little bit for the crowd, pantomiming a “live” stream and talking about how the cops were pretty well boxed in, if only someone could block the rotary…

Again, I was having a bit of fun. Maybe I didn’t need to use such grand gestures. Maybe I shouldn’t have made a joke about pork processing plants being shut down. Whatever. It was pretty tame. After a group of officers took notice of me, I knew I had made my point. They knew there was resistance out here. And it was watching them. I turned around and headed home, satisfied that although I didn’t start a suburban rebellion, I had maybe done something (?). And that’s when I hear it.

“That bald one. Yes. I don’t recognize him from the neighborhood. He doesn’t belong here. I think they are planning something. Those ANTIFA.”

Now, I’m not a reporter, so this isn’t really an exact quote. I had stopped recording at this point. This is the gist of what she’d said. She was very concerned about my presence. Mind you, I’m in sweatpants, a t-shirt, sunglasses, and a bandana. It’s not like I have body armor or even a backpack. And I’m leaving the scene. Which, I guess made her more worried? In any event, I hear her saying this stuff and the cop is basically like “uh, that softass meatball over there cosplaying as a protester? Yeah, he’s not a threat.” Again, not an exact quote. It’s more of what I imagined he said because he didn’t do shit about shit. Didn’t even stop me or ask me anything.

But I was a little annoyed at this lady for snitching. I mean, what exactly was she snitching about? The worst-case scenario was that some groups of people would come block the already blocked road and prevent more armed agitators from invading the cities? Oooooo color me terrified! These men, hours later, would be shooting at citizens on their own property for doing nothing. That’s the people she’s supporting? Those are the people she’s ratting on a neighbor for?

I slowed down my walk and just happened to have to “check my phone” in front of her house. See, thing was, I actually know this lady. We’ve spoken before. I see her all the time. I could throw a rock and hit her house from mine (not that I would). She waved at me the day before when I passed her while on a jog. But on this day, I’m waiting for her to get close. I debated saying something directly to her, confronting her about making judgments about strangers. But you know how easily white women scare these days. As she feigned checking her mail (it was 6pm. She’d gotten her mail hours earlier) she slowly approached another officer. I guess since the other ones left her bloodlust and paranoia unsatiated, she would keep asking for a manager until her dinner was comped.

By now, I think this whole thing is beyond hilarious. It’s good I was masked because I was giggling like crazy. I hadn’t set out to scare my neighbors. I hadn’t even considered them. That’s my privilege right there. I don’t ever have to think about being a threat or even being seen as an outsider, unless, ironically, I were to be in a majority-black area (or any other minority group). In my town, I am the norm. And I have always taken that for granted. If I were black, masked, and recording the police like I did on Saturday, I don’t know how people would have reacted. But if a white guy can evoke that reaction, imagine a dozen or so minorities. On second thought, maybe don’t.

There she is. My very own Karen. I assumed that as a white man I would never face this kind of prejudice. And in some ways, I did not. The cops didn’t do anything. And they really couldn’t. I did live here and I knew my rights. I am allowed to document things as they happen. But for other people, they are not given the privilege I have. They are harassed by the police and sometimes even arrested on spurious charges. I was able to walk away.

Good thing too because guess what happened again? I GOT KARENED BY TWO MORE WHITE WOMEN! It was incredible. They came marching down their driveway, mid-sixty-ish, grey hair all aflame. They demanded to know who I was, where I lived, and what my business was. I asked them upon whose authority they were given the task of checking papers, they replied that they were “making it” their jobs. They didn’t recognize me and they said I “didn’t belong” there. Again, these are two women whose garage sales I’ve been to and live about 4 houses down from me. I wished them good luck with their newly appointed positions and went on my way. For the record, they were old and frail and I run about 6-4, 260 so I don’t think they’d have been able to stop me if they wanted. Not that I have any interest in tussling with old women. I don’t.

This whole experience was incredibly illuminating. A week ago, I could have walked around like that and nobody would have batted an eye. Just protecting against the ‘rona. But now, because of how truly deranged and fucked up we are as a country, a person who resembles a protestor is seen as a threat. I don’t think I have ever been more disappointed in white people. And frankly, it shows how much further we still have to go.

We cannot allow fear stoked by the supremacists to inform how we treat our fellow citizens. We don’t know who is looting, who is starting fires, and who is peaceful. Information seems to indicate that there is a radical presence in some form or another. But the day when we no longer see our neighbors of nearly half a decade because they’re wearing a mask during a pandemic is the day we have allowed fear to overrule our common decency.

I am more than a mask. They are more than a skin color. Be brave and look beyond your fear. You might find a neighbor underneath it all.