In December 2017, as I wrapped up my graduate studies and approached the final stages of my pregnancy, I made a legal right turn on red. Almost immediately, the blue lights of a police car lit up behind me. I assumed I must have made a mistake.
The officer approached, requesting my license and registration, and began to interrogate me about my reasons for being in the area. I explained that I was heading to my internship, but he persisted, questioning where I belonged and why I was there, despite my license being from a nearby city. I felt a strong urge to respond sarcastically, suggesting that cars exist to take us from one place to another. Yet, the reality was that I felt unsafe, standing alone by the roadside with my significant pregnancy belly visible beneath my dress.
The officer then made a shocking accusation, suggesting I was in the area to buy drugs. When I pointed to my obvious pregnancy, he dismissed it with the remark, “Pregnant people smoke crack all the time.” My anger surged; I had never used drugs nor consumed alcohol. How could someone tasked with protecting the community misconstrue their duty by targeting a visibly pregnant woman?
His mind was made up. To him, my explanations were mere excuses. He seemed unable to accept that I—a small, articulate, and educated Black woman—could be in a predominantly white neighborhood for legitimate reasons. I realized then that he could not fathom my presence as anything other than suspicious.
I hadn’t done anything wrong, and he ultimately had to let me go, but I often wonder if the outcome would have differed had his dash cam not been recording. As I drove to my internship with him closely following, he parked nearby, waiting for me to enter the building.
What struck me most was my initial inclination to find any other explanation for his behavior aside from race. We all hope it isn’t about race, don’t we? If it were my manner of speaking or my driving, those were things I could adjust. But race—something I can’t change—left me searching for other reasons.
A kind, Christian colleague who witnessed the encounter rushed to confront the officer, her face flushed with anger. She told me it was because I was Black. I brushed off her comments, assuring her I was fine, but deep down, I was hurt and felt alienated in my own country.
This isn’t a new experience for me. Some days, I find the strength to confront such issues head-on, while other times it feels safer to remain silent. No one should have to choose between their safety and their voice.
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In summary, my encounter with racial profiling while pregnant opened my eyes to the biases that still exist in our society. Despite my qualifications and intentions, I was unjustly targeted based on my race. These experiences remind us of the work we still need to do for equality and understanding.