Policemen were always “on standby” in the never ending film that was my childhood. They were a part of the backdrop, a silent yet imposing presence, crucial to the events surrounding me but never directly impacting my everyday schedule and activities. Because I lived close to the Fifth Precinct of the Police Department in Chinatown, I often caught glimpses of policemen at their most relaxed state: cracking jokes and strolling about with their partners, climbing out of or settling into their squad cars, taking notes and murmuring into their walky-talkies, and strolling into convenience stores for lunch and snacks. They would help tourists with directions, and direct little children to school.
My mother once told me a story about how the police had aided her. On one of her many walks with her first grade class, one of her students had tripped, fell, and cracked his head on the sidewalk. Blood came oozing out the nasty gash, and he understandably fainted dead away. The hospital was miles away, and the ambulance wouldn’t be able to come in another half an hour. My mother was besides herself with fear: fear for her student’s life, fear of her job position, and fear of backlash from the school and the student’s parents. Luckily, a police car was parked nearby and had witnessed the entire situation. Thanks to the power of coincidences, they were able to whisk him to the hospital in minutes.
On the flip side, because I live in close proximity to the detention center in Lower Manhattan’s City Hall, I often saw the police in their most serious and physically threatening state. Stark white and blue prison vehicles would often be parked near the local playground, and burly motorcycles and scooters would be lined up neatly along the edges of the police center. On the way to elementary school, I would sometimes come across police buses and vans with suspects and criminals clambering out of the backseats, squinting in the harsh sunlight. Most of the time, they would be merely handcuffed behind their back. If they partook in a more serious event, the individuals along with their partners in crime would be linked together with steel chains attached to their handcuffed wrists, their pants dangling precariously without their confiscated belts, means of preventing escape.
When I was five, I had my first action packed police-chasing-down-the-bad-guy experience on my way to school. As I was rounding the corner with my mom, a loud shriek shattered the peaceful morning. I looked in the direction of the raucous scene unfolding down the street. A thirty year old man had snatched the purse of a fifty year old woman, and the two subjects were tugging back and forth at the object of interest. The man eventually broke free from the lady’s grasp and began running full tilt away from the victim, the purse clutched roughly under his arm. The lady and her mother stumbled after him, arms flailing as they screamed for help. Strangely enough, the criminal was running straight towards the police station detention center. He was either extremely stupid, or he was new in town and had yet to get the lay of the land. Fortunately for the victim, the police were stationed by their vans and swiftly ran to catch the criminal, who had stopped dead in his tracks when he realized the extent of his blunder. The ladies eventually caught up to the criminal whom being handcuffed and began beating him up with their shopping bags. The cumulation of these two events gave me a rosy perspective of the police force throughout childhood and well into young adulthood.
The amount of policemen that appeared in public increased tenfold after 911. I would see cops guarding subway stations, stopping anyone with particularly large backpacks or handbags. I would see cops patrolling crowded areas, walking amongst pedestrians in casual clothing. I would see them standing next to government buildings, check in stations, bag check areas, barricades, and tourist attractions: posing threateningly in their full uniform and gear, their badges winking in the light. Since childhood, I have been more exposed to the social and political world, both the good and the bad new, the bias and the skewed reports, enough to know that not everything is black and white. Much of the news is true, and much of the news is manipulated through various extents to serve a specific purpose. Crime reports are often targeted towards a specific social, financial, racial, and ethnic background, and crimes against minorities of race, gender, and sexual orientation, and low social economic status are often glossed over in the news or are tinted with a certain bias and discriminatory action. People of majorities in terms of race, gender, and social economic status are often favored by the justice system, and not all is fair in the political world. On the flip side, sudden surges of rebellion lead to public persecution towards the police force, and social media play a big hand in featuring both bias and non bias actions by the police, criminals, and victims, adding fuel to the frenzy. Because of my position in society as a petite Chinese female, I am fortunately excluded from the majority of the “police brutality” events sweeping across the nation, bringing to light many unjust misdemeanors as well as unfair hate against the entirely of the police force because of the actions of a selected few. The public needs to always look at the bigger picture: we need to be critical, educated, well informed, and non-judgmental when dealing with tension-filled situations between public and government run institutions.
