IT HAPPENED HERE: Police Interactions When You’re Young, Black, and Near Ferguson
On August 9, 2014, 18-year-old Michael Brown was shot and killed by police officer Darren Wilson.

In the days following his death, the name Michael Brown, chaotic images of Ferguson, and underlying issues of racism and policing were brought to the forefront of the American psyche. Albeit to little resolve. Last year, 963 people were shot and killed by police. In 2015, the number of fatalities caused by police shootings was 991.

Within his first hours as President, Donald Trump published the official white house statement, “Standing Up For Our Law Enforcement Community,” where he pledges to be a “law and enforcement administration” and the “dangerous anti-police atmosphere in America is wrong.”
In his first speech as U.S. Attorney General, Jeff Sessions blamed lack of respect for police officers as the cause for a recent increase in violent crime, saying “Somehow, some way, we’ve undermined the respect for our police. And made often times their job more difficult. And it’s not been well received by them.”
With an unclear vision on the future of policing, I talked to Ferguson and St. Louis residents, on the two year anniversary of Michael Brown’s death, about their most significant interaction with a police officer and photographed them where it happened.
MYA, 26 — from Ferguson

“There were a lot of young people out in general reacting to what happened in Canfield with Michael Brown being shot. My main objective was to keep them out of trouble. To prevent another situation of another Michael Brown happening during this time frame when people were processing their emotions.
I grew up in this area nothing like this has happened in the contemporary history of the Ferguson area. It shocked everybody… when you meet someone who is kind hearted and doing the right things you want to look out for them. Seeing it happen in the way that it did where everyone could see…it was of course up to the community to respond to it.
With my experiences and my privilege of being able to leave here, go somewhere else, get an education and come back I had to be apart of what was going on. I couldn’t just let people sit back and react. It was a certain education specifically in politics and community reaction and police brutality and blackness in general were really relevant to me. It spoke to things that I was researching and had really delved into the last 5 years of my life. If I hadn’t done something or spoken up or been apart of what was going on I would have been wrong.

My main thing was to keep the youth organized. So many adult were talking you didn’t have any idea what the youth were feeling… so many judgments and characteristics are made of people based on the area they live in, what school they went to, the way they dress, the way they talk, and that doesn’t even give you the essence of who they are as a person. It doesn’t give you how they feel when a police officer pulls behind them in the middle of the day.
I was walking back to my car, after the protest, all of a sudden some shots started coming toward me.
It took half an hour for an ambulance to show up. After half an hour, when the ambulance came, the police came over with their weapons drawn. I don’t know if any crime scene was ever tapped off. I don’t know if any shell casings from the other shots were picked up because at least six shots were fired at me. Who ever it was, was at a distance. They had some okay aim. They fired 6 to 8 shots and landed one (in my head).

To this day I don’t know what caused them to shoot at me.
It took over a month to get a police report produced…it confirms for me than changes anything. The lack of care with their inability to identify on a human level.
Two days will mark two years since the occurrence as well as the statute of limitation. After Aug 10th there’s really nothing I can do legally. All I have now are these different artistic outlets and ways to connect with people and build with people and use my experience as a way to bring something positive instead of using it to lash out.”
JEFFERY, 39 — from Chicago, currently resides in St. Louis

“The night that Darren Wilson was acquitted everybody was out here and we were all quiet. We were stunned. Like we got punched in the stomach. You could hear some type of factory buzz. Thinking about that, how quiet we were, why would we need gassing or be told to ‘get the fuck out the street.’ Police start yelling ‘get the fuck out the street’… I see my friend from Chicago, we’re talking all of a sudden we hear something akin to a gunshot and people start moving… at this point they’ve gassed… I’m stumbling. I can’t see.

I felt like the empowered person in the midst of that crowd was made to feel disempowered, helpless and without access to justice.
It wasn’t about Michael Brown the icon, it was really about taking a close up on American treatment of black bodies globally, nationally and locally. And I think that type of frame gets missed when we have these bodies that die and part of the problem is they kill so many people that we have to iconograph the individuals in order to get the story out.

It’s not just about the deaths and the killings it’s about the livings with the police as well. For as many bodies that are killed I can guarantee there are hundreds of bodies that are with bruises and burns and taser scars and bracelets that come from handcuffs. I felt a lot of times when I was looking at people I was like are you next? Am I next?”
JAZELLE, 26 — from St. Louis

“I met this guy off the internet, which I shouldn’t have done. It went totally haywire. He basically was too pushy for me.
His car kept overheating and we kept having to stop. It was the night before my birthday in the dead of winter. I asked could he take me home. He said, ‘why you acting like a stuck up bitch?”
He drives into an apartment complex and says he needs to let his car cool off. He goes all the way to the back of the complex, turns the car off and starts putting on gloves. My first reaction was to jump out the car. When I reached for my purse he snatched my purse. I tried to go towards him and he hits me with a bottle.
We’re at a stoplight in front of this casino. He said, ‘get out my car and if you don’t I’m gonna take you back to Illinois and I’m going to kill you.’
When I went to the casino I had blood all over my face, a knot on my head, my hair was pulled out, nails were cracked, fingers were bleeding.

It was the cops in the casino who approached me first, so I guess they called the police department. I sat on a bench, and they asked me to explain the story. Thirty minutes later EMS comes. They asked me to explain the story. An hour after, the police come, they ask me to explain to the story.
There was a guy who worked there and they started questioning him. They were shocked I was in that situation. Once they put two and two together and realized I was a transgender woman, they assumed I was an escort.
Once the police got there, the first question they asked me, ‘this wasn’t pertaining to BackPage was it? Because that’s what we normally deal with.’
They were laughing… just being very rude towards me like I did something. They put me in handcuffs. When they started questioning the guy I knew, he started saying that I was an escort.
They didn’t put an urgency to the matter when they came and saw a black woman. Then on top of that, they realized I was trans. But not one time did I disclose that myself. It really was disheartening. It really made me upset. I’m having to explain this story over and over. Over and over. And in the end nothing happened… I felt like I was being made fun the whole time. It was a horrible, horrible situation.

Since escorting is illegal, I guess the police just assumed we’re going to lock her up then ask her questions. Police automatically suspect that [transgender women] are escorts. That if we die, we get murdered, it’s our fault because we tricked a guy. There isn’t any news coverage. It’s swept under the rug. I really honestly do believe that if I got murdered or came up missing they wouldn’t have given it any coverage. Last year, 21 trans people were murdered. You don’t hear about it unless you do research.
That’s one of the reason why I did go out to protest when Michael Brown happened. I’m many things. I’m black. I’m a woman. I’m trans. I’m queer.
Me being black is one of my identities. I felt like I’m always fighting for the LGBT community. Why am I not going out here and fighting for black people?
I made the report with police department. When I got the report they kept referring to me as ‘he.’ They said there wasn’t enough evidence to pursue the case any further, yet I gave them the man’s name, gave them his phone number. They also said I had no injuries as well.
The guy is still out there. Nothing got handled.”
DAVID, 26 — from St. Louis

“It was a weekday after high school and I needed a spot to roll a joint. So I went into the bathroom at McDonalds. Dumb I know. But I was a teenager. I’m not in there more than a few minutes when the manager kicks open the stall, sees me and says to get the fuck out and he’s calling the cops.
So I go into the library across the street. The police come in they ask were you in McDonalds. Did you just have an altercation with the manager? They pull me out of my seat. It was like five police officers. Why does it take five police to get one black guy out of the library? I get outside, out in front of the library. They cuff me. They say we saw you on camera. They say they’re getting me for possession and throw me on the ground. Go through my wallet, pull me back up and took me to the station.

I feel like I did something wrong. I admit it. But I felt like the brutality was way too strong for that small a crime. But the manager heightened it up and said I vandalized his place, I was trespassing… I have a stall closed and he comes in. It just felt like a violation of rights. I feel like that’s not how you do protocol. Once there’s weed, there’s a black dude, what other information do you need? When they didn’t hear what they wanted they used force.
They put me in one car. Took me out. Put me in another car. They took me to the station. Put me in a cell. When I got out and asked them about the $120 that was missing from my wallet they didn’t see any money.
I was in the wrong for being in public with something that’s illegal. I mean I was a young, dumb teenager, but I don’t feel like it should have been taken that far.”
GABE, 29 — from Webster Groves

“I was in high school and on the wrestling team. At that time I didn’t have a car so the easiest thing for me to do was stay at my friends house. It was a really nice area. I would walk to their house from my school after practice. I would be walking on the street at 6 o’clock at night and police would ask me, ‘what are you doing? Why are you here? Are you looking for something? Where are you going?’
It’s hard to see the addresses so it’s easy to get lost. I would be stopped multiple times, they’d take my license to check if I had any warrants. I would tell them where I was going, but it would be daunting at times.
My school had a desegregation program, so black students from the city came here. The easiest way to explain is by having two faces. Two parts of yourself. One is hanging out with your friends and you can use slang. But then, you have to be super polite, ‘excuse me ma’am. How are you doing sir?’
I was the only black person on all three of the sports teams I played with. A lot of [the white students] were kicked out of private school and were now here. They already had an idea of how I should be. It was like you really have to watch what you say and how you act around other people.
My friends didn’t believe me. They would make jokes about it. One was about me liking the New York Knicks. They’d say, ‘Gabe’s a Knickerbocker.’ They would do things in a really roundabout way and say that it was joking. Then they’d say I was being sensitive. We’re just messing around.

Sophomore year of college was the first time I felt comfortable being black. Growing up and going to this high school, I wanted to be white. A lot of my self-esteem issues came from my skin color. You can’t go to parties because his parents didn’t like black people. All these different things I was excluded from, it’s not something I could put in the back of my mind. There were just multiple instances where I couldn’t do something, couldn’t go somewhere, or had to change how I spoke because someone else felt uncomfortable. Somebody else was uncomfortable with me being there.
The people who are meant to protect and make sure you feel ok were the first people to be like, ‘you don’t belong here.’
The only time I had a pleasurable experience with cops were the ones who worked inside the school. You saw them everyday. You talked to them. They were cool to me, but only because I knew them personally.
If I was in the car with my friends the cops would search their cars. It was the only time they searched their cars… it just made me feel like I shouldn’t have white friends and I wasn’t wanted.”
KADIJIA, 26 — from St. Louis

“In high school we use to walk up and down The Loop, because when you’re in high school there’s nothing else you can do. It must have been a Saturday night. This is the point in time when the cops are pushing all the kids out. You couldn’t just stand around. It felt like you were being harassed. When you went out to [the suburbs] like West County, nobody is bothering those kids who are in high school.
The Loop — it’s diverse in term of cultures, economic backgrounds, all different types of people. And everything is outside.
When you’re in high school what else do you do?
If we literally stopped it was a problem. ‘Keep it moving,’ was the tone. They’re authoritative and bent on showing you who they are.
So we’re walking, hanging out, and across the street there’s a drunk white couple. They’re loud. Belligerent. There’s a cop behind us, trailing us. We turn and say ‘there’s an actual problem.’
There’s another officer in a car across the street so he goes over and talks to him. My friends told me ‘we should leave.’ But I say no, let’s sit here and stare at them they way there stare at us when they put us in handcuffs on the curb. They look at us like animals in a zoo. So let’s stand here and let them know how it feels. Because at that point, I was upset with being followed and I know a few other people I was with were.

There’s an exchange between us and the couple as they’re talking to the cops. Asking us ‘what the fuck are you looking at.’ Of course we’re mouthing off too. At some point, the cops put the couple in the car. One in the back seat. One in the front seat. They clearly weren’t being arrested. There wasn’t any action. They were riding in the front seat of a cop car. No handcuffs. No lights. This wasn’t a situation.
The windows are rolled down. The guy in the back is flipping us off from the cop car. It’s just a very tense moment because we’re out here, just being kids and having fun. They’re actually doing something wrong and they get a ride in the front seat, flipping us off, basically just getting an Uber ride home from the cops.
So the cop that was trailing us is getting upset with us and saying ‘you need to get the fuck out of here.’ He starts touching us and pushing us out the way. This is what happens.
It was clear as day if you weren’t focusing on us you would have saw them. Being drunk in public to that extent…we weren’t saying go over there and go crazy, we’re just saying be in someone’s ass who is actually doing something you’re not suppose to be doing. But no, they get a slap on a wrist, a ride home and we get a cop who’s being physical with us, trying to get us to leave because he’s pissed off.”
IZAIAH, 25 — from St. Louis

“Me and my two friends were just going to go to the Central West End to hang out. We’re driving in my beat up 2001 Chevy Cavalier. A police car was driving past us in the opposite direction. Me and the officer made eye contact. Immediately, the officer made a U-turn and followed us down the block. Right when we get to the intersection, we hear the sirens go off and the lights and immediately we’re like, holy shit.
He pulls us over and asks me for my license. He goes back to the car and a few minutes later, comes back and ask for my friends IDs. All three of us have dreadlocks at the time. He comes back and tells Lloyd he has a ticket. Lloyd told the officer he paid it. The officer tells me I had a ticket for trespassing. I tell the officer that was several years ago and taken care of. He literally throws our IDs back in the car. I immediately didn’t want to move or anything. So I asked could I have your badge number. He asks for what reason. He tilts his badge towards me. I remembered it and he let us go.
It was a lot of confirmations about who I am in St. Louis. That was on a Friday night. I called the police department to file a complaint about the officer. The conversation I had with the receptionist was insane:
Receptionist: What is the ethnicity of your friends?
Me: Black.
Receptionist: Do you think your friends are the reason you got pulled over?
Me: We’re all black I think that’s probably why.
Receptionist: You’re black as well?
Me: Yes.
Receptionist: You sound white.
Me: Ok.
Receptionist: You think you all got pulled over because you’re black?
Me: Who do I call to report you?
Receptionist: Obviously if you’re calling to report issues you’d call me to report to me.
Me: That was a waste of time.
I asked the officer why he stopped us. He said it was because of routine checks.
I was like, holy fuck I did something wrong. I have resting bitch face. I know that. If I’m not smiling it looks like I’m pissed. I know that. But when I looked at the officer, there wasn’t any malicious intent or anything. The streets in Central West End are really close. It’s very narrow. Our cars are literally two feet away from each other when I looked over and happen to notice there’s a police officer.

I’m reminding myself to stay calm. Not make any fast movement. When he threw our IDs I stayed calm. Kept my hands on the steering wheel. I didn’t reach down to pick them up because he could assume I’m grabbing something else. For me it’s this constant reminder to stay calm, don’t raise my voice, don’t deepen my voice. I have to respect the hell out of you because if not this is the last time I’m alive probably based on the tone of my voice or one quick gesture to grab my phone. That could be it.
It was the weekend after, Megan Boken, a white SLU student, had been robbed and murdered. That same week, my best friend’s sister was murdered. She’s black. She was shot and killed in a drive in North Saint Louis. There was no mention of it anywhere.
When Boken was murdered it was all over the newspapers. All over the news. There were candlelit vigils. The mayor spoke about it. The governor spoke about it. All the houses in the area had candles lit outside. Seeing that and being pulled over and knowing that happened a week ago in the same area really pissed me off.
I felt that I was doing well for myself. It was the summer I had just enrolled into Webster. I felt like I’m actually getting an education like I’m suppose to be doing. And yet I get stopped and pulled over by a police officer because I made eye contact with him? Because three darker skinned people with locks are intimidating him?
It was just a reminder. No matter how you dress. How you look. What education you have. What car you’re driving — you will always be black to a white police. You’re nothing. You’re just a potential criminal.”
