Michael Brown’s death in Ferguson, Missouri, and today’s decision in Staten Island by a grand jury not to indict a white police officer, Daniel Pantaleo, in the death of Eric Garner, an unarmed black man, has brought the issue of racial profiling to the surface again, and it’s undeniably an issue that needs addressing.
Racial profiling refers to the practice of law enforcement officials targeting individuals for suspicion of a crime based on race, ethnicity, religion, or national origin. This is a form of discrimination based on stereotypes, and any police-initiated actions that relies on these stereotypes rather than on the behavior of an individual would fall into the category of racial profiling.
Believe it or not, it happens to white people to, if they happen to be in an “African American” or “Hispanic” neighborhood. I know about this kind of racial profiling firsthand from my past decades-long career as a children’s entertainer. On a weekly basis, my work would take me anywhere from Manhattan to Montauk. Many times I was hired to perform a show in East New York, Bedford Stuyvesant, or Harlem. It didn’t take me very long to realize that a white woman driving alone through one of these neighborhoods was a red flag that inevitably led me to being pulled over and detained for questioning by the police, undercover narcotics agents, or the vice squad. The obvious assumption was that a white woman had to be up to no good being there; either she was engaging in the oldest profession in the world – prostitution, or she was in the business of buying or selling drugs.
I was often terrified by the undercover narcotic agents, dressed in jeans and trying to look cool with their sunglasses and sneakers on, who would approach me in my parked car. I was never quite sure when I opened my window, if these men were who they said they were. My thoughts were always, maybe these guys want to rape or rob me. A second later, they would start asking me a million questions that basically boiled down to, “What’s a nice girl like you, doing in a place like this?” I would try to remain calm as I handed out my business card and driver’s license, registration, and insurance information. I would always politely answer the-in-my-face-none-of-their-business questions that they would haul at me. Then I would be forced to wait while they ran a background check. When my story checked out, I would be told to go on my way with a warning, “You really shouldn’t come into this neighborhood. It’s too dangerous for a white woman alone.”
The vice squad always had a field day with me: a woman with a backseat filled with wigs and costumes certainly gave the appearance that she was some kind of kinky hooker, but what really scared me the most was the uniformed officers, with their guns clearly visible. I would always appear really nervous, probably looking guilty of something or another, since I would shake so much. The first few moments of questioning would always get me unglued, but I have a theory, “You never argue with someone with a gun.” I would be polite, respectful, and try to be patient as this racial-profiling song and dance once again screwed up my day, causing me to not only be late for the party I was there for in the first, but for all the other scheduled parties I had the rest of that day. When my story checked out, again I would be warned of the dangers of the neighborhood, and I would answer, “The only people who ever bother me around here are you — the police.”
Racial profiling doesn’t just happen to blacks, Hispanics, Muslims, and Middle Easterners, it happens to everyone, including white people. What I remember most about these experiences was feeling frightened, humiliated, annoyed, unjustly treated, and angry, but I always tried to be respectful, and kept in mind that I wasn’t doing anything illegal, and cooperation was what was expected of me, and cooperative was what I was. In my experience, this truly seems to be the best course of action should anyone of any race, color, religion, or gender, find his or herself in similar circumstances.
Cindi Sansone-Braff is the author of Grant Me a Higher Love, and Why Good People Can’t Leave Bad Relationships. Visit her web site at :www.grantmeahigherlove.com.