Being a kid is great. Bike rides, camping trips, play dates, and going to the town pool with friends. There’s no bills to pay, or a job to go to every day. Sure there may be chores like cleaning your room or throwing about the garbage but for the most part childhood is carefree and fun. Until it’s really late at night and daddy isn’t home. “He has to work late because he’s keeping everyone safe,” my mom would always say. My dad is a police officer. And being a kid is everything but great when you are scared every single day that daddy won’t come home.
When I was a kid, all I knew was that my dad was out there catching the bad guys and that my dad was working his butt off to make money to support our family. I was, and still am, so proud of him. When you’re younger, everything seems cool. I would tell anyone who would listen to me. I thought that my dad had the coolest and most exciting job in the whole world. No one told me just how dangerous and scary it could really be.
And then I stared getting older and learning more.
Little by little I was informed about the darker side of being a police officer. Very slowly I learned more as I got older. I guess no one wanted to scare me or worry me, but I was very scared and worried already. I was not even 9 years old when my dad was promoted to lieutenant. I remember being at the ceremony in my favorite blue dress and bright white tights watching as the big boss shake my dad’s hand and gave him a piece of paper. I was over the moon with pride and joy as I ran toward him to give him a big hug, but still even as a kid I realized that this meant more hours and less time to spend with him.
It was that day that my absolute favorite picture of the two of us was taken. The split second of my dad holding me while I kissed him on the cheek was captured and put in a glass frame in the shape of a heart. Every night for years I would look at it and pray that my dad would make it home that night. I might have been just a kid, but God was the fear real. Some nights I would cry in bed thinking I would never seem him again. But, he always came home. He was always there for my family and me. He may have been tired as hell from working overtime, but he would always go into each mine and my brother’s rooms and give us a kiss goodnight. Most of the time, I wouldn’t fall asleep unless I knew he was home.
Then I got older, and throughout high school I learned even more. With the Internet at my finger tips and the news channels on TV, it was easier to keep up with whatever was happening in the world. Not necessarily focusing on police news, but throughout the world and all the mostly bad things that were always being broadcasted. The Internet in high school was like a stepping-stone almost, giving a glimpse of things that you could only imagine seeing in the movies.
Then I started college, and it felt like everything was changing.
More often than not there was a headline about police brutality and police officer involved shooting. The large scale and wide spread riots that were happening was the moment of realization for me. And in those that resulted in death, weather a police officer or a civilian, it is tragic. A loss of ANY human life is tragic. Each day this world gets scarier and crueler. It’s difficult to go anywhere these days. And when there are riots, it seriously scares the hell out of me. Because my dad is on stand-by. My dad is waiting to possibly be called to go into the heart of Times Square in the middle of the riots. In the middle of thousands of angry people who do not appreciate the hard work and bravery they put in to protect and serve our community, in the middle of people who think they are murderers. Actions of one do not dictate or define the actions of the whole. No matter if it is a cop, if it a civilian of any race or religion. There are still good people in this world, my dad being one of them. My dad works crazy hours sometimes. There was a time where I wouldn’t see him for a few days straight because he was working on a huge case, working crazy hours or for days straight. I admire my dad, I admire the police force as a whole.
However, just like any other profession, there are bad cops. There is corruption and there are bad eggs. My heart goes out to all the families of the victims who were killed when in a situation involving the police. Sometimes it is out of self-defense, sometimes the situation escalates and a life is lost in the midst of the chaos. But no matter what, a life was still lost. Someone’s mother or father, or bother or sister, or husband or wife; has lost their life. I am obviously pro-police, however, part of being a police officer’s daughter is to learn and realize that every human life is precious and valuable. We are all humans, we all share this planet and we all have to work together to make this planet a better place. If there’s anything I have learned from my dad; it is to work hard, respect others, and stand up for yourself; but most importantly, to be the best version of yourself you can possibly be. For me, as not only a human, and the daughter of a police officer, the best version of myself is being kind and understanding with everyone I encounter, but not being a pushover at the same time. I thank God everyday that my dad has come home, that he hasn’t been hurt, that he hasn’t been in the middle of a riot, that my family stays together another day.
People are so quick to call cops murders. People are so quick to call for de-militarizing the police. People are so quick to take their anger out on gun violence, by using gun violence. That’s not justice, that’s hypocrisy. Killing cops out of revenge isn’t justice. As the daughter of a police officer, it scares me even more. Not only are you killing a police officer, someone who protects and serves us without any questions or hesitations. You’ve killed a man or woman living and fulfilling their dreams, a veteran, a father/mother, a sister/brother, and a husband/wife. Yes, all lives matter. All lives deserve to be treated fairly and with justice where it is due. But sometimes, when people say that all lives matter, they forget to include blue lives.
