F•I•V•E•S•E•C•O•N•D•S
I’m driving back to Auburn from watching my crush perform at a show in Portland one early, early morning. He is so dope bee tee dubs.
About 60 miles north of Portland, I get pulled over for speeding. I was in the wrong. I was speeding.
As the state trooper got out of his vehicle, I partially rolled down my driver side window, but he goes to the passenger side. Ok…cool, makes sense…better for his safety; I didn’t want him to get hit by oncoming traffic. I partially roll my passenger side window down as he approaches my car, but I placed both of my hands on the steering wheel after putting down the window so he would always see my hands.
“May I see your license and registration please?” He asked.
“Of course.” I replied.
License? No problem. Registration? Yeaaah, that part. I had to reach into my glove compartment. Still keeping my left hand on the steering wheel, so the state trooper would see my hands, my right hand goes from a steady reach to uncontrollable shaking. I immediately replay the disturbing, real life (and live) images that I saw on Facebook back in July of 2016,
You saw what happened to Philando Castille. You saw it with your own two eyes and you heard his daughter crying, screaming in the backseat as his girlfriend, whilst staying calm, live streamed everything for the whole world to see. You saw it! You heard it. He loved working with kids too, Nikiya. He was loved by so many people in his community. That didn’t matter. He was licensed to carry a gun and he had verbally admitted to the officer that pulled them over that he had a gun on him. THAT did NOT matter. He was asked to show proof of a gun permit, but as he was reaching for his gun permit he was shot point blank multiple times in front of his girlfriend (who was the driver of the vehicle) and his baby girl. He was not a threat, but he was immediately type-casted as such. You saw how he clutched on to his chest and was slumped over in the passenger seat until his very last breath. All because he was asked by a police officer to show his gun permit and, unfortunately, excessive fatal force was used. For what though? That police officer walked away physically unharmed. Philando Castille did not. Keep your HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL, Nikiya.
It takes less than five seconds to grab your drivers license and registration when it’s within an arm’s reach, right? Right?? Those five seconds were the longest five seconds I have ever experienced in the recent years of my existence on this earth.
Those five seconds felt like forever. I didn’t hear a loud, deafening bang. I didn’t see a flash go off from the right side of my car. I did not smell any gun powder. I heard the state trooper talking to me calmly, but I didn’t really hear any of what he was saying because the sound and force of my heart was beating so hard, and those thoughts of a young man slumped over, bleeding out, in front of his little family with a gun still pointed at him were so loud to me. I honestly did not know what to expect, but I was expecting the worst. I knew that if anything did happen to me after getting pulled over… my God. My parents! I did not know if I’d ever be able to tell my parents that I love them anymore. And my sister! I did not know if I’d be able to tell my sister that I love her and to continue to embrace her individuality and take on the world. I would never see my crush again. I was genuinely scared during those five seconds that it took for me to reach for my registration and retrieve it out of the glove compartment; even though I still had one hand on the wheel.
The state trooper was genuinely concerned for my safety, seeing that I was by myself, and I truly am grateful for him. I did tell him, “Thank you. I appreciate you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate you.” For letting me out of a speeding ticket? For not stereotyping me as a dangerous predator? For not emptying a magazine into my car? For keeping his cool? Sadly, all of the above. With the blinds completely pulled back on how some officers treat people of color while on duty, I was terrified. Tears did roll down my face after I pulled away.
The only difference, and the crazy part about those five seconds, is that even after being pulled over and admitting my guilt to the state trooper, the universe was on both our sides. God was watching out for us that morning. And I, a black woman, am alive to tell you about my experience without my name becoming a hashtag. #FIVESECONDS
Nikiya D.
