One for Twenty-Four: Being Arrested

My original plan was to launch this blog as way to document my 25^th year of life.  Twenty-Five for Twenty-Five: a collection of 25 experiences I promised myself in my 25^th year.  But, as 24 is coming to a close an experience I never expected or desired to have was given to me.  It wasn’t an experience that was on my list, that I planned, that I deserved, even.  It’s truly not one I wan to blog about, I’d rather forget this particular moment.  But, it happened.   It happened to me like so many other people everyday.  We owe it to each other and our communities to share.  As 24 wraps up, I’d like to leave what has quickly become a crucial and defining moment, with 24, and move onto 25 with eyes open and a deeper passion for social justice.

One for Twenty-Four: Being Arrested

March 21, 2016

10:23 p.m.

Hillcrest Medical Center

Maternity Ward

After eight hours, Noah is finally here.  He is healthy, happy, and so handsome.  He’s perfect in every way. Much like his older brother and my godson, Landon, who is one and ready to go home after the night.  I feel Landon. I am tired.  I peer over at both of them; Landon tucked into his dad’s arms and Noah who is lying on his mom’s chest.  In this moment, they are completely safe.  I fight away the nagging thoughts about what lays ahead of them beyond these hospital walls.  What will come when the melanin in Noah’s skin starts to set in, and when they’re no longer cute babies, but beautiful and brown little boys.   I fight these thoughts away and stay present in the safety of this moment.

March 22, 2016

12:20 a.m.

Mayfield Road, Mayfield Heights

Inside my vehicle

My body is engaged in an intense competition between the need for food and the need for sleep.  It’s a close game, but as I exit the parking lot of the hospital sleep wins. So, I start head home; straight down Mayfield Road.  I see the police before I pass them.  I check my speedometer.  I’m good. 

March 22, 2016

12:21 a.m.

Mayfield Road, Mayfield Heights

Inside my vehicle

Blue and red lights reflect in my mirror.  Crap.  I’m not good.

I call Tieranie and she answers.

“Stay on the phone with me.  The police just pulled me over.”

“Okay, take me off your car’s Bluetooth and just put it on speaker.”

“Bet.”

I hate getting pulled over by the police.  I can’t remember a time I felt safer, better, or more protected because of a police presence.  I hate that it’s dark outside.  I hate that I’m alone.  I hate that they’re pulling me over.  I hate that this officer is approaching my car.   I hate that I’m smiling at him.

“Hello.”

“Hey, are you Meagan?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, you weren’t doing anything wrong.”

Then, why pull me over?

“The reason I pulled you over is because I was running plates.  Looks like Oakwood’s got a warrant for your arrest.  Do you have any unpaid tickets?”

 Expletive.

“Yes…”

Yes, I have an unpaid ticket.  I have a ticket that I got by another white police officer for a light that I didn’t run.  A court date I couldn’t make because I had to work.  Three conversations with the Oakwood police about paying my ticket over the phone and they still messed it up.

“Okay. Hold tight.  They might want to take you in.”

He walks away with my license.

“Stay calm, Meagan” Tieranie urges me on the phone.

“I will.” I lie.

12:30 a.m.

Not sure where I am anymore, outer body experience.

“Yeah, Meagan, they want to take you in.” He is back outside of my window.  He’s talking, can’t make sense of his words, they all sound so incredibly mediocre.

The next moments in time are lost, as there is no clock around me, because I was forced out of my vehicle.  I remember loud words, panic, I remember the word “No.” from my mouth, and the words “You are under arrest.” and “You do what I say.” from his.  Hysterics from me, my face against my car as my body is shoved up against the door, handcuffs, and tears. 

My face is against my car, but from my peripheral vision I can see the other officer who has arrived as backup.  I’m five feet tall, 108 pounds, unarmed.    Even though I feel helpless, I must appear threatening.  I have to, that’s the only thing I can think of to justify the unjust treatment occurring.

“You need to calm down.”

I dismiss that instantly. Calming down from what is to-date the most humiliating moment of my life, seems absurd.  Every piece of my dignity is being shattered and you want me to calm down?  How about you calm down.  Then, I consider what country I am in.  I consider possible outcomes for the night.  I consider the fact that I’d prefer to not be a hashtag.  Couple deep breaths in, couple more out.  I consider calming down.  I consider compliance, and then I do it.  It’s mundane.  Feels like the typical code switching that every day brings, only worse. 

March 22, 2016

12:33 a.m.

Mayfield Road, Mayfield Heights

Backseat of a cop car

My wrists hurt because the handcuffs are too tight.

March 22, 2016

12:40 a.m.

Chagrin Road

Gas Station

We stop at a gas station.  I have to switch cop cars.  I get out of the first car.  Officer #1 takes his cuffs off of me.  Officer #2 puts his cuffs on me.

“She won’t give you too much trouble, now.” He says she, but it feels like it. I believe it was the implied meaning.  It’s all in the tone.  I’m livid.  But, still complying.

March 22, 2016

12:42 A.M.

271 South Bound

Back of cop car #2

“Don’t worry, this is really just a way for this city to get money, you’re not a murderer or anything.  We’ll have you in and out.”

“Is there an ATM there?”

“Yes, they’ve got everything there at the jail.”

March 22, 2016

12:50 a.m.

Bedford Jail

There is no ATM at Bedford Jail.  I have no cash on me to pay this ticket or bond.

These are the highlights.  There are some things I can’t stomach to write down because the thought of them makes me sick.  I wrote that I complied.  I didn’t write the conversations that came with that because they’re disgusting to me.  I didn’t write down how a simple question set this officer off because I’m not doing what he’s wrongfully asked me to.  Didn’t write about my belongings getting snatched, about arguing about my car getting impounded, some things are still too fresh and still too infuriating.  Honestly, I don’t even want to go back over this for grammar and typos because I don’t want to relive it.  However, facing the harder realities of life especially of a black life, are important.  That’s a goal for 25.  Balancing the good and the bad in a way that’s productive.  Because there was no ATM and I had no cash on me I had to wait in jail.  I sat in a holding cell, probably the most miserable thing because there was no clock.  I thought about what would have happened if I didn’t have the money to pay, or a friend to pick me up, about the disrespect from people in “authority”, about the lack of education required to get you in that position, I thought a lot.  Then, Caitlin bailed me out.

March 22, 2016

9:00 a.m.

Hillcrest Hospital, Maternity Ward

I’m back at the hospital with Noah.  He’s in my arms and I’m praying he never gets arrested.  My spirits are up.  I’m more dedicated than I ever have been to the work.  I’m ready to get it done.