I live a pretty normal life, but I live it a little differently than most of my friends. When I was a little girl, I was proud to tell everyone and anyone that my dad was a police officer, that he was my hero. I was only five, all I knew was that my daddy saved lives. It's now 15 years later and I am still proud to be a cop's daughter, but I don't tell everyone and anyone anymore. Before, I may have received a "Wow! That's so cool!" Now, I'm afraid I'll get, "F**k your dad and the police."
Within the last two years, police have been a main focus on social media and the news, but not always for the best reasons. In some of my classes, students and teachers will talk about their hatred for police and how police brutality is a huge problem. I sit there in silence with no opinion. I listen to everyone talk and how they ramble on about how all cops are these terrible people. What they don't know is that I, the classmate sitting in front of them, am the daughter of one of these "terrible people."
My dad was involved in a car shooting a couple years ago but luckily was not hurt. Unfortunately, the shooter did end up dying. But, what people chose to talk about was the fact that these cops killed someone rather than mention they were protecting their own lives. Listening to my dad on the phone explain what had happened made my stomach drop. I knew what he did for a living could be scary and life-threatening some days, but I never thought it was something that would actually happen to him.
Some parents come home from work late all the time, especially if they had a busy day, but most kids probably won't think twice about it. If my dad comes home late, I begin to worry. I automatically think of 12 different situations that could've happened and I don't stop until I hear that front door open. Once that door opens, I have a good 12 hours of calmness before I say goodbye to him again, wondering if that goodbye will be the last. It's a terrible thing to say, but it's a scary, realistic thought.
Like most dads, mine coached me in sports, took me shopping, bought me dinner, and told me corny dad jokes. He always had one line that he'd always say to my sister and I. "You know what I mean, jellybean?" It was stupid but always made me laugh. When he wasn't coaching me, he'd be the parent yelling at kids, "There's no crying in baseball!" when the sport wasn't even baseball. He taught me to be tough and that he was the only guy I'd really need in my life. He's my best friend.
So, while you take the time to talk about how scummy cops are and how you wish them dead, think of the ones who have people at home waiting for them. Think of what would happen if your mom or dad didn't come home one night from work. Imagine hearing people talk badly about your parent everywhere you went.
You might call them assholes, I call them family.
