An Ex-Wife’s View of Police Brutality
Disclaimer: This article analyzes my narrow view of the police brutality issue and offers a couple suggestions about how change can be created. It is not an all-encompassing solution to a very complicated and serious problem. I am not an expert in the field of law enforcement, nor am I certified to represent any such agency. I was married to a law enforcement officer for 17 years – that’s how my opinion may have relevance to the topic – if at all.
I started this article after Breonna Taylor and George Floyd were killed. I sat on it, not feeling like my voice was relevant. And now Jacob Blake. And now I think I have something to say about living with and loving a law enforcement officer – because this world is broken and the brokenness affects so many. And because police brutality is brutal.
Captured
When I was growing up, I never, ever thought I would be married to a cop. Like, never, ever. I met my ex-husband when I was in college, having recently finished high school – a time in my life when I was accustomed to running from the police. I partied in high school – and that came with risks. I was prepared, at a moment’s notice, to sprint from the house, ready to leap tall fences when the knock on the door came to break up the party. I’ll never forget the feeling of the adrenaline and how it nearly gave me superpowers to do things that would normally challenge me. At these parties, I was always sure to wear shoes that would enable me to escape the law. And I was pretty good at it. It was a game. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit some satisfaction in the challenge to escape capture.
So yeah, I never thought I would end up married to the very same law that I ran from just a few years earlier.
My ex became an officer not long after college graduation, rising up through the ranks over the course of our relationship. When we got married, I guess I knew it was a possibility that he would be a cop given his field of study, but I was unaware of what that meant exactly. The first time my ex-husband and I were invited to a police gathering, I nearly shit myself with fear standing in a room full of officers. It’s an interesting life, living with an officer. The early years were a mix of pride and embarrassment – pride about his officer status and embarrassment, for me, about his public visibility.
After a while, the embarrassment subsided and the pride took over – as well as the negativity and intensity. There’s definitely a unique mentality that comes with the territory – but it doesn’t happen overnight. It grows and develops slowly over time. And after nearly 20 years in the profession, my ex developed it – because it seems to be a necessary defense mechanism. It seems to be a matter of survival in this field of work, not only to develop a thick skin, but a shell of armor. I have often wondered how his life (and my life) would have turned out had he chosen a different career path. I wonder if we would still be married.
Catch-22
When the kids were little, they saw their dad as a hero – the uniform has that effect. But the uniform, as proud as it can make a person feel, comes with a multitude of other feelings: power, punishment, fear. My ex was not a street cop, so his exposure to the general public was limited, but nevertheless the same issues were still present. We were still provided the protection, whether real or imaginary, that any other officer’s family had.
It felt like he was required to provide extra protection to us – more than other families needed. It was like he knew something we didn’t know. He understood the threat to our bubble. He knew that although our perfect little town seemed safe, there were bad people among us. Being married to an officer also creates a “catch-22.” It makes your family a target, creating a need for more protection, and at the same time, by the very nature of the position, it enables you to have more protection. It also creates an awareness of all of the bad things that could possibly happen. There is no living in denial when you’re a cop.
Nothing to Lose
My uncle was a cop in Queens, NY and my aunt used to tell me how he would sit facing the door in every public place, because he was always “on duty” – even when he wasn’t. It was similar with my ex-husband. Sometimes, we would be walking down the sidewalk when he would urgently insist we cross the street, because he saw someone coming towards us that he had previous knowledge of or because he instinctively knew the person was a threat. He instilled in me that there are people out there who have “nothing to lose.” Those are the people you should be afraid of.
So, how does an officer determine if a person has “nothing to lose?” I believe they make an assessment of the situation, of the person and how he or she is acting, what they’re wearing and saying; they judge the safety to themselves and to those around them, based on previous encounters and experiences; they decide if it’s worth an encounter that might go very badly – sometimes all in the fraction of a second.
Living with that pressure takes a toll on a person – it changes them. It takes a sweet boy from the east coast and turns him into a stressed, defensive, reactive, dis-trusting man. And it rewards him for being all of those things – with pay, promotion and pride. Then it requires him to instantly turn it off when he walks through the front door of his home, because there is no reward for being stressed, defensive, reactive or dis-trusting in a family. Being an officer requires a person to be two completely different people in the same day. And perhaps we have found the root of the problem.
With all of the recent protests and police brutality on social media these days, my kids and I have been having conversations about the challenge of loving someone in a profession that is sometimes admired and sometimes despised. It’s been difficult; wanting to protest for and against the police at the same time is conflicting. And knowing that the institution of law enforcement is far from perfect, but that it has helped sustain our family for two decades, is also conflicting. It feels like an excuse, and at the same time a defense, to say that not all cops are bad – and yet we know that there can be no bad apples in law enforcement. But maybe the field of law enforcement does nothing to make the bad apples good and does nothing to pick them off the tree? Maybe this organization actually perpetuates the “badness”?
To be clear, I’m not here to make excuses for or to justify the murders of black Americans at the hands of the very law that was created to protect them. I’m here to create conversation about a solution. This problem is bigger than all of us. And this: there’s an additional complication when you love a law enforcement officer.
Fear and Power
There are systemic issues in this nation – first and foremost, racism. And when racism is mixed with fear and power, the result is deadly. This we know. So first, we must combat racism. I don’t believe it’s my place to write about race. I’m white. So, on the topic of race I’m here to listen and learn. Please don’t misinterpret that as indifference. I’m not dismissing the topic, I just want to remain respectful and leave the race platform to the experts – I want to defer to black Americans.
Instead, I want to talk about the other ingredients in this mix of toxicity – fear and power. I’ve thought a lot about how a police officer can be taught to use his or her authority in a way that does not lead to abuse of power. The problem is that the power of fear is often more powerful than any training or instruction a person can be given. And I believe that an officer’s fear will almost always take over when they perceive a threat – especially an inexperienced officer. Unfortunately, there is no way to create real and authentic fear during a training drill – otherwise, it wouldn’t be a drill at all. Herein lies a problem – a problem beyond my abilities to solve, because it would require rewiring of the human response.
I do believe there is a solution to the ingredient of power. Law enforcement agencies must find a way to teach response without ego, without dominance, and without the underlying arrogance that has been associated with this job – if that’s possible. Teach a person to lead with compassion – then reward compassion in law enforcement. The calm response and the level-headed reaction to being spit on (in the face) must be honored – because that is sure to upset even the most level-headed person. Instill in officers, not the power that comes from a demanding “do what I say” approach, but instead the respect that comes from a compassionate “how can I help?” approach. An officer must be taught empathy and understanding about how a person can come to have “nothing left to lose.” They must be taught that if a person has nothing to lose, it’s because they have never had anything worth keeping – and most likely, they have never felt worthy at all. We need to help officers find worth in those who don’t see themselves as worthy. Perhaps then, an officer can approach a situation without provocation and without presumption.
In my opinion, there are three ingredients that have contributed to police brutality: racism, fear and power. If we can work to reduce racism in this country first, and then train officers to understand their own response to fear and power, we might have a chance at change. Maybe police officers don’t need to be two different people at all: the loving, compassionate husband and father – or the dominant, intense officer. Maybe they can be one person who is compassionate and commanding, empathetic and assertive, merciful and respected – all at the same time.
But really, what do I know? I’m not one of the few putting their lives on the line every day as public servants and I’m not one of the many who live in fear of being shot by said public servants.
Final disclaimer: No law enforcement officer, especially not my hardworking ex, contributed to this article.