In 1975, I wanted to be a policeman. My 5th grade teacher, Ms. Finger, required each student to write a short paper and stand in front of the class to discuss what we wanted as a career when we grew up.
The idea was to make us think and speak, but this project was near and dear to my heart.
You see, a deadly tornado struck my hometown only weeks before, displacing thousands of residents. Through the ruins of lives and property lost, our men and women in blue rose to the occasion and selflessly worked day and night to restore order. They heroically responded to dangerous calls, protected businesses from looting, and helped transport food, water, and clothing to many people who had lost everything. I watched from afar through young eyes as the local police willingly served the public in crisis, and saw them up close when two officers came to my school to reassure the kids that all would be fine.
I was not the only one in my classroom who wanted to be a cop. I remember two other boys did too.
But, in my integrated school, I did not know what my black classmates thought of the police. At the time, I do not recall seeing any black or women policemen on the streets. I falsely assumed the police protected and served the black neighborhoods as well as mine. I had no idea that the police on one side of the tracks were viewed and acted completely different than on the other side.
Fast forward to the present, and I find myself legally representing police officers all over south Mississippi. The police forces today are diverse, much more so than in most careers. Hattiesburg, for instance has men and women, black and white, working to make our city safe. The highest ranking Hattiesburg police officer is African-American, and persons of color permeate all levels of law enforcement in our community, local, state, and federal.
We have come a long way since the long hot civil rights summer of 1964, and the storm ravaged year of 1975.
We have a long way to go too. Systemic racism remains a blight on our country and our police departments are not immune to this societal poison. The senseless and savage killing of George Floyd has galvanized a long overdue movement to stop police brutality and overhaul many blind spots of racism in our society.
At some risk of criticism, however, I want us to remember that the vast majority of our officers are noble public servants. They get paid little with great personal risk each day. They have names like Harris, Chad, Anthony, and Peggy.
They are my friends, and they love this community. They want nothing more than to protect your safety and welfare. They are not racists, nor are they perfect. They make hard decisions each day, subject to constant second-guessing by their superiors, by judges, and by the public. Theirs is a thankless job on some levels, but I am convinced that our democracy cannot and will not survive without them.
My brother’s pastor recently said that we must be careful not to be pushed into a false binary way of thinking. That if you are for social justice and equality, you do not support law enforcement. Or, if you support law enforcement, you are against social justice and equality.
I submit you can be for both. Racial justice and law and order are not mutually exclusive ideas. They are part of the same family and are both worthy of our attention and commitment.
I chose to work in law enforcement wearing a suit and tie rather than a badge and gun. Forty five years after writing my 5th grade paper, I see now that all of us together have a part to play to make our communities safer, better, and more just places to live. I pray that rather than taking sides, we use our American spirit of determination and creativity to use this moment in history to propel us forward into a brighter future.
Clark Hicks is a lawyer who lives in Hattiesburg. His e-mail is clark@hicksattorneys.com
