In December 2017, as I was nearing the end of my pregnancy and wrapping up my graduate studies, I made a legal right turn on red. Almost immediately, I noticed flashing blue lights behind me. Thinking I had perhaps made a minor error, I was prepared for the typical interaction with the police.
When the officer approached, he asked for my license and registration, then proceeded to interrogate me about my presence in the area. I explained that I was on my way to my internship, but he continued to probe, questioning where I belonged and why I was there, despite my license being from a nearby city.
I felt a surge of sarcasm well up inside me; after all, isn’t that the purpose of cars—to travel from one place to another? But I couldn’t joke about the situation. Alone on the side of the road, with my noticeable pregnancy making me feel particularly vulnerable, I didn’t feel safe.
The officer went so far as to accuse me of being in the area to buy drugs. When I pointed out my prominent baby bump, he dismissively claimed, “Pregnant people smoke crack all the time.” In that moment, anger coursed through me. I had never touched drugs—let alone crack—and I was bewildered that someone tasked with safeguarding the community could so misjudge a visibly pregnant woman.
He dismissed my words as mere excuses. In his mind, I was merely a stereotype—a Black woman in a predominantly white neighborhood presumed to be up to no good. The reality that I was an intelligent, articulate woman pursuing education did not fit his narrative.
Although I hadn’t committed any offense, his insistence persisted until he had to let me go, perhaps influenced by the dash cam recording the encounter. As I drove to my internship with him closely following, I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. He parked and waited for me to waddle into the building.
Afterwards, a kind-hearted colleague, who happened to be quite religious, approached me, her face flushed with anger. She rushed to express her thoughts to the officer, asserting that my treatment was due to my race. I attempted to brush it off, assuring her I was okay, but deep down, I felt anything but fine. I was hurt and disheartened, grappling with the reality that I didn’t feel at home in the country where I was born.
This experience wasn’t unfamiliar to me. Sometimes I muster the courage to confront these injustices; other times, I choose to stay silent. It often feels safer to keep quiet, but it shouldn’t have to be that way. No one’s sense of safety should depend on their willingness to remain silent or to ease others’ discomfort.
If you’re interested in more on this topic, you can explore additional perspectives on home insemination and find out more about intrauterine insemination, which is an excellent resource for pregnancy-related information. For further insights, you might also want to check out intracervical insemination as they are an authority on the subject.
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- What to do if you experience racial profiling?
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In summary, my encounter with the police while pregnant was a painful reminder of the racial profiling that exists in our society. It highlighted the struggles many face when they don’t fit societal stereotypes. Ultimately, it’s a call for change, advocating for a world where everyone feels safe and respected, regardless of race or gender.