Story 2: When I Saw a Drawn Gun

In my last blog I explained why it's important to share true stories from life. In that last one I also refrained from making value judgements, for the most part. This is a little more biased. I took the liberty because in some ways this story is mine. And in some ways it never will be.
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It was a normal day. I was taking the city bus from my university on the Northside of Chicago to my home on the Westside. Being the compulsive little planner that I am, I decided to take the hour-long commute to plan out my classes for my entire "college career", as they call it. Seeing as I was a second-semester Freshman, I figured I could knock out the task in 45 minutes easy.

I probably could have, had it not been for the jolting interruption. Like any regular commuter, I was comfortable with the route. I was used to the bus pulling over to pick up or drop off my fellow travelers, so I zoned into my little world of college planning. At some point, as I was carefully writing my classes in bold ink under the appropriate, underlined headings, I heard an eery commotion.

I peered up from my pages and was shocked and confused to see a man in the middle aisle of the bus, with a gun pointed at the closest man next to me, who was on the seat parallel to mine across the aisle, no more than 4 feet away. I took a snapshot assessment. I noticed the gun first, then I realized it was a policeman holding the gun, which made me feel better until I realized he should only have his gun drawn for a serious matter. I glanced around. The bus was stopped between its scheduled stops, which means the police flagged it down, indicating further urgency. The front door was wide open as though it was standing open in fear, much like my mouth, which at this point must have been agape.

The cop yelled at the man, ordering him to get off the bus, then another man caught his eye and he ordered him off as well. They both looked confused, but did as they were asked. I heard the bus driver shouting something to the cop, but it didn't register because my eyes were fixed on the two men as they were whisked outside to be searched.

As I looked around again, I realized that the bus had actually been barricaded in. My thought was interrupted as another cop forcefully entered the bus (as though he had to - the door was still wide open). He walked hurriedly up the aisle, asking other patrons about the two men, searching frantically the whole way for weapons stowed underneath the seats. He said something about a man that may have gotten on at Diversey that had a gun.

I heard the bus driver vehemently insist, "Man, these guys have been on the bus," as in long before Diversey. The cop replied, "That's not what they just said to me."

Sure. I think.

I looked out to see the men being searched. One of them had his laptop with him in a nice case. He was the notably younger one. He was also the notably shorter and stouter man of the two. The other was middle-aged, tall, and lean. His bag contained an Xbox and accompanying controllers. The only thing that united them and distinguished them from all the other passengers aboard the bus was the label black male.

The cops let them back onto the bus as they themselves meandered back to their cars to un-barricade us. I was struck by the fact that they must have only operated from the description "black male". These two were the only able-bodied black men traveling with us. Not the only black people. Not the only men. But the only black males at that time. And they looked nothing alike.

I started fuming, wondering what the procedures were for cops pulling their guns. I had always assumed that they had to actually be threatened or in a situation where they know that a person is armed. I kept thinking that what had been done only served to intensify and escalate the potentially volatile situation.

As the men made their way back to their seats, the one across from me sat silently in his chair and with a dignity I was blown away by, he just shook his head and took it.

I was ashamed to be white. I hated that I was a young, white, single female. This man had just been removed from his seat and humiliated by the policemen in front of us all (trust me - we were all watching) with no real warrant, being that they ignored the bus driver who stood in their defense from the beginning, and being that they were clearly racial profiling (would they ever have removed and frisked all the white males on a bus?!). I hated the thought of this man associating me with them, with that mindset.

I hated the idea that he could imagine I supported what had been done to him or that I was now afraid of him. After a moment, I looked over at him and said, "Aren't they supposed to be threatened before they pull their guns?" I don't remember his response. It was dismissive, perhaps no more than a simple shrug. I asked a follow-up question, already knowing the answer, "Has this happened to you before?"

"I'm black... Happens all the time."