Closing In

In many ways, I'm having a different experience than other graduating seniors. While many of them a scrounging for internships or fretting about resumes and interviews and their first fully for real and for true full time job, I'm very much looking forward to getting back to work. If I learned anything in the last two years, it's that work is where the money is. And while that might seem self-evident, it took me *checks calender* two years to be able to appreciate that.

Coming back to school, I imagined having my mind expanded and horizons broadened, driven to daily fits of intellectual ecstasy. Instead, it's just been a lot reading, a lot of writing, and a lot of spending.

The fact that I'm a primary source of income representing a necessary evil for an entire group of people who literally have better things to do than to lecture me on the 6th Amendment for 90 min and then read my hastily-written-the-night-before-or-morning-of paper about it - that hasn't been lost on me. In fact, there's hardly a professor who doesn't just about groan aloud at the thought of shepherding undergrads through a class they don't like toward a degree they'll likely never use.

And, sure, that's cynical. But it's also mostly true - at least, a version of the truth.

But I needed (ok "needed") the credentials if I ever hoped to get beyond the type of jobs I was getting. Though, all of them, honest and worthwhile ways to make a living, they mostly bored the #$@*& out of me. I wanted something more meaningful than a paycheck. I wanted a personally satisfying career. And, hey, if it happened to pay well, I wouldn't turn down the check.

Two years later and I'm on the verge of being one very big step closer to that goal. Along the way, I made some friends and learned a great many things about myself and what I might want to do when I grow up. It's an exciting place to be and I cannot wait to be finished. As interesting as this semester's classes are, I can already feel myself looking ahead, far ahead (but not so far ahead) to the day when I'll finally be doing something that I love.

Until then, a paycheck is fine to start. After two years of spending, I'm more than ready to get out into the real world and get my hands dirty again.

UGH, May! Hurry up! You're taking forever!

Getting On

About 5 hours of studying/writing in and I'm not even halfway done with my homework for this weekend. I was hoping to knock out most of it so as to have some playtime on Sunday but it looks like I'll have my nose in the books all weekend.  But *shrug* it's my last semester. 11 weeks from now, I'll have a diploma in my hand. I can go without beer and TV for 11 weeks. Right?

 Right, you guys!?!?!? *stretches collar*

The Talk

At the encouraging of a good friend, I wrote Fluerette King, director of the Rainbow Center here at UConn, to discuss what I had experienced over the course of several visits there. She responded promptly thanking me for the email and asked if we could meet.

Today, she and I spoke for 90 minutes on a great many issues, my email among them. Regarding the email, she advised me that, upon receiving it, she printed it out, and distributed it to her staff (with my name redacted). She then had a discussion with her staff about the letter, after which they broke into smaller groups to discuss possible policy changes. They've since made some revisions and are in the process of implementing them. She also made sure to discuss the letter with the students who regularly visit the Rainbow Center.

This woman does NOT mess around. I liked her instantly.

I was humbled by her candor and forthrightness, and greatly appreciated the lengths to which she went to take action. I assured her that I would visit again and look forward to my next opportunity to do so.

Pretty sure I made a new friend today.

Bluster

I nearly died getting to campus today - UConn decided that classes would be in session from 10 AM on. My first class which started at 10:10 AM had been cancelled. I've just received notice that my other class for the day has been cancelled, along with a meeting I had scheduled with my adviser.

There is no reason for me to be here now and given that the roads have only gotten worse since I've arrived, I might be stuck in the library for the night.

I'm not entirely sure that UConn considers commuters when deciding whether or not to stay open. It certainly doesn't seem that way

All About It

So. This happened.

Funny Papers

Less than twelve hours after a first draft and I'm in the paper!

http://www.courant.com/opinion/op-ed/hc-op-brathwaite-police-stop-african-american-0201-20150130-story.html

My nephew Tyre (pronounced "tie-REE") is a bright, skinny, bespectacled youth who loves comics and zombies and video games. And girls. Mostly video games and comics, though. When he isn't playing video games or reading comics, he can usually be found somewhere alone, scribbling out short fiction.

Thursday, just like millions of other teenagers, my nephew got up, dressed for school, ate breakfast and walked out the door toward his bus stop in Hartford. Unlike the other millions, however, my nephew was stopped by the police.

Three police officers accosted him while he walked down the sidewalk, demanding he put his hands up. That skinny, African-American kid in glasses with a book bag full of comics and homework posed absolutely no threat to the three adult, armed and well-trained police officers. What's more, he had violated no law. Still, they came at him shouting, "Put your hands up!"

They shined a flashlight directly into his eyes and stared him down for a while. Then, with no explanation, they moved on. "All right," they said, and walked away.

But it wasn't all right. It isn't all right.

I started talking with my nephew about the police a few years ago. I made it clear that it's very rarely ever a good idea to disobey an officer. But, more important, I let him know that, given where he lived and what he looked like, it was likely that they would start "noticing him" soon. He asked me what that meant and I said, "Just do exactly what they say. Usually nothing happens and they just let you go. It's when you give them a reason to hang around that you can get into trouble."

The events in Ferguson and New York over the past few months made our conversations about police more frequent. I try to remain neutral on the subject, eager to protect him but equally intent on not scaring him.

The first time I spoke about the police, he didn't believe me. "That can't happen!" he said. "I thought racism was pretty much over!"

And he meant it. He truly believed that there were no such thing and, for a minute, I believed with him. I imagined how pristine and inviting the world must feel, or, at least, how fair it all seemed. In his world, race was a feature, not a factor.

Coincidentally, the same day I first spoke to him, my nephews and I were pulled over. I did what I always do; pulled over immediately, cut the engine, rolled down the window, quickly removed my wallet from my front pocket and placed it on my right leg, rested both hands on the steering wheel and relaxed. The kids, excited, began asking questions. "This is serious," I said. "Do not joke, do not talk, stay seated. If he asks you anything, tell him the truth. We haven't done anything wrong, we should be fine."

When the officer came to the window and asked for my license and registration, I told him what I was going to do before I did it. Then I did it, with careful, deliberate motion, hands always in sight. He returned to his cruiser. The officer came back and handed me my things. "You can go," he said. No explanation.

"Why'd he pull us over if he was just going to let us go?" my nephew chimed in loudly. The officer turned again and looked at us. I shot my nephew a look of death and he looked at his shoes, silent.

"Have a nice day," the officer said as he turned again to leave. I waited a few seconds before starting the car and pulling off.

This would not be the last time we were pulled over together. The world seemed determined to teach my nephews early just how things might be, how they could be, that things could certainly be fair but that they sometimes weren't, and that, sometimes, unfairness looked like this when you look like we do.

Last night, my nephew insisted that he had been walking to school and nothing more. I knew it was true but pressed him anyway, my anger getting the better of me. And then I apologized. For losing my temper. For the officers. For the world and the people in it who hadn't quite gotten their act together in time for him to miss all of this.

"Remember when I told you that they'd start noticing you?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Well they've noticed you now."

Drew Brathwaite lives in Manchester.

‪#‎newsworthy‬
‪#‎stayoutofthecomments‬

Recall Notice

When the officers approached my nephew from behind that morning, they shouted, "HANDS UP!" with no introduction or explanation whatsoever. And he was walking down the street with a book bag.

I've been puzzling over that all day and a few questions occurred to me, but primarily this:

Where they trying to get him to run? Or fight?

Did they suspect that he might be up to know good of some kind and, instead on engaging him and questioning him, they decided to spook him and get him to A) Take off running or B) Fight them out of surprise/self defense?

Why else would three adult come up on a child in the early morning and shout HANDS UP out of nowhere? What other reaction would you expect but for him to freak out? There's nothing constructive at all about that approach.

He had no indication that they were police officers at all because they gave him none. Just "HANDS UP" from behind. If someone came up behind me and shouted HANDS UP, my first thought would be that I was being robbed. And I'd either turn to face my attacker, prepared to fight, or I'd take off running.

Both reactions would get me into series trouble if the person shouting "HANDS UP" was a police officer.

It kind of a miracle that my nephew didn't take off running. Still, I can't help but wonder what might have happened if he had reacted in the most natural and reasonable way and took off running?

I don't know. And won't say.

But I can't help but think... *shudder*