I was Sandra Bland's control subject

I remember when Vance got pulled off a plane for reading a vintage airplane book a few years ago and lots of people went out of their way to send emails saying they just knew it wasn't racially based. Bullshit, as I could be on a plane reading the same book (and indeed would like to borrow it to do just that) and would never be noticed.

15 years ago, I was Sandra Bland's control subject (metaphorically).

In 2000, I was finishing my design program and was taking my computer (desktop, as this was pre-laptop days) to my computer guy for something and was driving down a road where a regular lane suddenly becomes parking spots, with no warning. Terrible setup, deliberately. So as I changed lanes to avoid hitting parked cars, a hidden cop pulled me over, took my info, and came back and told me there was a warrant out for my arrest, they were impounding my car and taking me to jail. I had no idea what was going on and was asking, over and over, why this was happening, and they said they didn't need to tell me. They took me out of the car and handcuffed me and put me in the cruiser and took me to the station. My computer and car were left behind. I said they couldn't arrest me and not tell me why and the cop said, "I can and I am" (direct quote). At the station, I was searched, my glasses were taken (without which I cannot function), I was handcuffed to a desk, my shoes were taken and everything else. I repeatedly asked why I was being arrested and was given no info. I was in a cell for some hours, sobbing, and calling everyone I could think of and noone was answering the phone (you're really only supposed to get one call but they left me with the phone so I kept trying people). At one point I had to go to the bathroom and they pointed to a toilet in the cell...the glass cell, with no privacy. I INSISTED they take me a bathroom, that I was not a criminal. They finally did. You think this would have flown with Sandra? Finally reached my computer guy who came and bailed me out. I went to a bank and paid him back and paid lots more to get my car back.

Turns out that SEVEN YEARS PRIOR my car insurance had lapsed for a few weeks and in that time, a warrant had gone out (??) and had stood ever since even though it had been up to date but for those few weeks. They claimed they'd sent letters, but I'd been in the same place and there were no letters. Eventually I went to court and it was declared unlawful arrest and expunged. I have no record. I told almost noone because I assumed they'd judge me anyways since the story is so absurd, I MUST have done something to deserve it, right? I never told anyone in my family to this day. And then I started to hear similar stories from other people that this had happened to. That they were using car insurance lapses that were long fixed to arrest and jail people. Seems illegal but here it's not.

The other fallout was that I was literally (in the neurochemical way) traumatized such that for months and months whenever I saw a cop, I'd immediately start shaking and crying. It was unlike me and it was not controllable. That's what trauma does to the brain. I was never a fan of cops, but that shredded it. I don't see them as the benevolent helpers we're supposed to. I think there are way more not-so-smart bullies with anger issues than we want to believe. These guys weren't the most horrible but they also never told me why I was being arrested and showed no compassion whatsoever. And then I was handcuffed to a table, strip searched (by a woman) etc.

If they were willing to treat ME that badly, it does not surprise me, in a culture where there are so many people either overtly or covertly racist, that they'd be horrendous to people of color. In this case, I was the control subject. So yeah, let's drop the whole "it had nothing to do with race" thing, shall we? If you watch her video, you can see the cop losing his grip as he requests things of her she does not legally have to comply with, and when she says no, he escalates because he's both unprofessional and annoyed and doesn't want to lose face, and not because of anything she did or didn't do. She can be angry, she can be pissy. But he's the professional and should have responded accordingly.

the sluttiest slut

I was thinking today in the shower, and I guess it could be expanded to a larger question of why people seem to think the worst of me, about how within a general population, one might call me "promiscuous" based on how many men I've been with (though not that many in the past x years, for sure). It's above average. According to this study, only 9% of women have been with more than 15 men. I'm in that 9%. Again, it feels funny to say this, since the last several years have been largely drought. And my sister and my cousin S and surely lots of others I know are getting WAY more action than me, and currently. But my cousin J thinks, and always has thought, in the most positive way possible, for with her I don't think it's a negative judgment, that I'm a prude. She thinks I'm cute and innocent. She thinks it's funny I don't drink or do drugs. To her, I may as well be Victorian. To others, I'm the sluttiest slut that ever slutted. Neither categorization is becoming or flattering. And neither is accurate.

I saw a friend tonight who said something about how I've put myself in a difficult position because I want to be the best of the best in my field. I think she meant performance, despite the fact that I have been essentially forced out of performance. And I have no "field". I have no career. Unless you consider failing a field. I'm a genius at that. I think what she meant was that I would accept no less than superstardom, so I'm destined to never have that. That's not the case. I expect nothing anymore. I'd like to just make a living, but even that doesn't seem possible.

I'm wondering if there's anyone who would just accept me as me and think I'm great AS IS. Without changing. Without alterations. Who'd think there are things about me to admire. I guess it's too much to ask, but since I'm being told I must "love myself" where others constantly remind me how lacking I am, how do I do that?

I am embarrassed to be me. With no cheerleaders or admirers or loves, I just can't create that kind of self-admiration in a vacuum.