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In December 2017, as I approached the end of my final pregnancy and was wrapping up my graduate studies, I made a legal right turn on red. Almost immediately, I noticed the blue lights of a police car flashing behind me. I assumed I must have committed some minor traffic violation.
The officer approached my vehicle and asked for my license and registration, then began questioning me about my presence in the area. I informed him I was headed to an internship, but he continued to press me about why I was there, especially since my license was from a different city.
I felt a mix of sarcasm and fear; I wanted to quip that cars are meant to transport people from one place to another. But standing there alone, with my large pregnant belly prominently visible, I didn’t feel safe enough to joke.
The situation escalated when he accused me of being in the area to buy drugs. I pointed out my visible pregnancy, and he callously responded, “Pregnant people smoke crack all the time.” Hearing that made my blood boil. I had never touched drugs in my life—I don’t even drink. How could someone tasked with protecting the community think it was acceptable to harass a visibly pregnant woman?
He dismissed everything I said, viewing my explanations as excuses. In his mind, I was merely a stereotype, a Black woman presumed to be up to no good in a predominantly white neighborhood.
Despite my innocence, it was clear he was only letting me go because he had no legitimate reason to detain me. I often wonder if he would have reacted differently had his dash cam not been recording. As I drove to my internship, I noticed him following closely behind, waiting to see me enter the building.
What’s ironic is that I searched for any explanation for his behavior that didn’t involve race. I wanted desperately for it not to be a racially charged encounter. If it was about my speech or driving style, those were things I could change. But my racial identity was unchangeable, and I looked for any other rationale for his actions.
A kind-hearted co-worker, who had rushed to confront the officer, suggested that it was due to my race. I brushed off her comment, assuring her that I was okay. But deep down, I felt hurt and out of place in a country I had been born into.
This experience wasn’t new to me. Some days, I have the energy to speak out, while other times, it’s easier to remain silent. Sometimes, silence feels like the safer option, but it shouldn’t be that way. No one should have to risk their safety based on how quietly they can make others comfortable.
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Summary:
The author recounts a troubling experience of racial profiling while visibly pregnant, highlighting the officer’s unfounded suspicions and how it reflects broader societal issues. Despite her attempts to explain her presence in a predominantly white area as a graduate student heading to an internship, she faced discrimination based solely on her race. This experience left her feeling alienated in her own country, prompting reflection on the challenges of navigating race and safety.
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