In December 2017, as I neared the end of my final pregnancy during graduate school, I made a legal right turn on red. Just moments later, I noticed flashing blue lights behind me. I assumed I must have committed a minor traffic infraction.
The officer approached, asking 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 an internship, but he continued to press me about where I belonged and questioned why my license was from a different city. Part of me wanted to respond with sarcasm, pointing out that cars are intended for travel, but I didn’t feel safe enough to joke.
Standing alone on the roadside, my pregnancy made me feel vulnerable. The officer accused me of being in the area to buy drugs, and when I pointed out my clearly visible pregnancy, he dismissively remarked, “Pregnant people smoke crack all the time.” At that moment, I felt a surge of anger. I have never used drugs or alcohol; how could someone sworn to protect the community harass a visibly pregnant woman?
His disbelief in my situation was clear. To him, I was just another stereotype, a Black woman who couldn’t possibly be in a predominantly white area to pursue her education. In his eyes, my reality was merely an excuse. I did nothing wrong, and he must have recognized that since he ultimately let me go—but I often wonder if the outcome would have been different if his dash cam hadn’t been recording.
As I drove to my internship with him trailing closely behind, I sought to rationalize his behavior, hoping it wasn’t related to race. We all wish it weren’t about race. If it were my speech or my driving, I could adjust those. But since it was my race, I felt compelled to find another explanation.
A kind coworker, noticing the tension, rushed to confront the officer, her face flushed with anger. She told me it was because I was Black. I brushed it off, telling her I was fine, but inside I felt hurt and out of place in a country where I was born.
This experience isn’t unique to me. Some days, I find the strength to speak out, while other times, I choose silence for safety. It shouldn’t be that way; no one’s safety should depend on their ability to remain quiet to avoid discomfort for others.
For more insights on similar experiences, check out our other post about home insemination. If you’re looking for fertility resources, this guide is a valuable source. Also, you can explore this excellent resource for information on pregnancy and home insemination.
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- What to do if you feel racially profiled
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In summary, my experience of racial profiling while visibly pregnant left me feeling vulnerable and alienated in a society that often judges based on race. It’s crucial to acknowledge the realities of these experiences and strive for a world where no one has to fear for their safety due to their identity.
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