7 Eleven Trip (Racially Profiled)

I was walking home from 7 Eleven,

withdrawing some cash after an 8hr day at work.

Plus, an hour commute.  

I heard cop sirens behind me. I kept it pushin’ because I knew that I had done nothing wrong.

*the cop sirens went again*

The cop stopped me. I was afraid because I know what cops do. I know that their lack of judgment and proof can lead to the death of me.

The cop said, ‘’Where are you walking from? There has been a house burglary and you fit the profile.’’

Damn. Do I fit the profile because I am a black man? Do I fit the profile because of the dark skin that my ancestors had bestowed upon me?

I answered, ‘’Sir, I am walking home from 7 Eleven. I have no part to do with a burglary.’’

The cop did not believe me one bit. His face had a smirk as if he had caught the person who did the crime.

He grabbed my arm and told me to get in the back of the car. He did not have proof, probable cause, or any evidence that linked me to the scene. I am innocent. No way I am going in the back of that car. I know the system. I will go to jail and then I will sit in a cell. The court day will drag on and then after months I will be found guilty for a crime that I did not do.

I said, ‘’Sorry officer, I will not get in that car.’’   

The officer got hot. He started to get rough with me and try to force me in the back of the car.  I know that I can not fight back because it might cost me my life. I know that I cannot run either because that too might cost me my life. What do I do?

Immediately after, another cop had come out of a Chinese joint looking for evidence had said, ‘’Yo! That is not the suspect. Let him go.’’

What if that other cop had never come out? Would I be dead for putting up a fight for my innocence? Would I be a corpse right now? Would the cop be let go free of charges, like the various other cases of the same manner?

I was mad! I was upset! I was infuriated. My word had meant nothing. I was treated like a criminal because I am black.

He did not know my life, my work ethic, my aspirations, or the reasons that I smile.

I was almost a victim of being racially profiled.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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