Coffee for Two ASAP! (or risk arrest)

My heart actually hurts. My chest feels heavy, pressed on. I’m having trouble figuring out how I feel, understanding what happened and what I (honestly) would do differently given the opportunity.

I don’t think the police officers are to blame. . . necessarily. I mean, they had a complaint from a business. But, couldn’t they have just escorted the guys outside and talked to them? Were handcuffs necessary? See what I mean? I’m having trouble processing.

I’ll yield that I wasn’t there and accept that there may be things I don’t know. In fact, that’s my cop-out response. I count on that because then I don’t have to do one dadblame thing. Not one. I can just sit silently and let the world continue to rotate on its axis and revolve around the sun. Like Pilate, I can wash my hands of the entire sordid affair.

Picture your local Starbucks. You agree to meet a friend there. You get there before he does. Dude’s always late. You and your buddy that rode with you shake it off and decide to have a seat and wait on him. There are people there. You’re just hanging. Then you notice the girl behind the counter kind of looking at you weird. You’re actually used to that. It’s a thing. You look a little “different”. She picks up her cell between customers, makes a call. No big thing, but you keep feeling her eyes on you. Come on! You’re just waiting for your buddy, talking to your other buddy. Dang. Same thing you’ve encountered all your life.

About the time you’re really getting creeped out by the coffee chick, in walk 2 cops. They head for the counter. Coffee chick glances your way now and then while talking to the cops. They turn, look your direction and head your way. What in the…? This is a new one.

Soon after that, while cops are talking to you, your buddy finally arrives. Yeah, you could’ve used him sooner. Everyone in the place is whispering, looking your way, wondering what’s up. Then the cops put handcuffs on you and escort you out. I mean, aren’t you glad you acted cool? Responded “appropriately”? Good thing you watch the news!

Now, I don’t know if that’s exactly how it went down, but according to a witness it was something pretty close. Question: were the police called on these guys for not ordering coffee? For sitting in an establishment without paying for anything? Really? I don’t think so. I think it’s because they were black and didn’t order anything.

I meet people at Starbucks all the time. I often wait until they get there to place my order. Sometimes I never order. We may just have our meeting and leave. In fact, I’ve often pondered how cool it is that Starbucks lets people just hang there all the time without ordering. I mean, I see it, I do it. Often. But, then again, I’m a middle-aged white woman. I dress well.

Inside my brain, I hope hope hope that I am wrong. I want these men to be known problems. I want there to be an actual danger to their presence. Not because I want coffee chick exonerated, not at all. I just want us as a culture to not be this hopeless. This far gone. This shallow for crying out loud.

I understand fear. I’ve been victimized a time or two. I lived through 9-11 and even have some understanding of the value of profiling – to some degree – until I think of my Assyrian sister in law and her beautiful family, my nieces, her sisters, her brothers, their kids. ereHHere I sit, finding it hard to believe that someone called the police on two innocent people because of their skin color and I’m having to face my own issues. I didn’t believe it could be just what it was. I’d like to think I would’ve stood up for them if I was there, but should that even be necessary? Shouldn’t their word have as much value as mine?

I hate coming to grips with the fact that I may be part of the problem. I hate that parents of good kids have to worry about their children’s safety because of their skin color. And I wasn’t going to say anything either. I was going to go about my day. Then I read the account of a woman who observed the incident and felt the kick in my own gut. Then my pastor friend who adopted several Ethiopian children shared his fears. Another kick. I have to speak for others. I have to, in the name of the Lord I serve, say NO. This isn’t ok. He died for every single one of us. He delights in us. I am compelled to say, regardless of the details of this incident, but for all in general, it’s not ok to treat people like this. There’s a mountain of things I don’t know and I don’t understand, much to be learned but in this moment, I stand.

Note: This is not a commentary on Starbucks. It could happen anywhere.