Crisp clean blue uniforms, shiny black shoes and an all-business attitude. Policemen evoke some kind of emotional response from everyone, and everyone has their own opinion of the police. When you look at a cop standing in a line in full riot gear, you may see the human face of an unjust system, the man who unjustly pulled you over, the woman who targets people because of their race or even a new form of the devil reincarnated. When I look at that same person, I see my dad out risking his life for those who hate him the most.
Being a police daughter is something that no one but another police daughter will ever truly understand. It is so much more than just my dad getting to drive with the lights on in his car or leaving for work like everyone else. My dad is my hero, but not just because of what he does on the job, for what he sacrifices for the job. The St. Louis Police Academy has produced some of the finest policemen in the area, and over 30 years ago, my dad was one of them. He started the job in the city and then moved to a north St. Louis county. From the time I was born, my dad has been serving and protecting the neighborhood where I grew up, went to school, lived and loved.
Being a policeman is unlike any other job. I will never forget all of the good times my dad and I have had. Growing up a police daughter, I have ridden in countless police cars, toured Dad’s work about a hundred times, and gone to parades, events and exhibits because my dad had to work security for them. Sometimes, if I was really lucky, I even got to go and ride on the mini tricycles that Florissant has for their Safety Town program or pet the new police dog. I got to go to the gym win the station to work out, see much more of the public office building in my city than the average resident, and I have a connection everywhere I go. It is impossible to spend less than an hour in the grocery store with my dad because he knows everyone. My dad has been there for many of my important life events. My parents put us through private school, taught us right from wrong, how to protect ourselves and gave endlessly of themselves to our community. Simply put, my dad is my hero.
From the outside, being a police family doesn’t seem so different from any other run of the mill suburban St. Louis family. That is wrong—it is completely different in some of the worst ways.
From even before my parents were married, my mom had to accept a truth about my dad, that he risks his life every time he walks out the door to work. I will never forget being at a funeral at about 10, in third grade, and an older woman telling me, after seeing my dad come in uniform, that I could be back in that church any day because my dad could walk out and never return home, that he could be killed on the job in a moment's notice.
I remember sitting in the kitchen to do my homework for weeks after this incident just to keep my eyes on him and watch him cook dinner. I remember staying up at night trying to think of things I could give him to keep him safe or something I could invent to make sure no bad person could touch or hurt him. I remember crying day after day after he left for work about the possibility that he may not come back to tuck me in before bed. This was a truth that I didn’t ever fully realize until that moment of realization, but it’s also something that every police family struggles with.
What that woman said to me was, without a doubt, inappropriate for someone in my age group. I had to, very abruptly, realize that every time my dad clocks in at work he puts his life in the hands of every driver he pulls over, every person he comes in contact with, and even those who just see him on the street. He could be hurt, he could be taken—it's happened to others in our community and it could happen to him. The inappropriate nature of the woman's comment didn't matter—she spoke the truth. I grew up quickly in the few months that followed, having to realize the repercussions of what the woman had said to me and eventually learn to accept the possibility as reality. I struggled a lot in third grade, I mean, how can you explain to a 10-year-old to just not dwell on the fact that they are terrified a parent may not come home? Eventually I, like all police families, got there, but growing and changing is painful and takes a lot of time. As a police family, this possibility becomes an accepted and fundamental truth, but also something that we cannot spend our entire lives dwelling on or else it would consume us.
Every time my dad leaves for work, he risks his life, I’ve accepted that. He has done just about every job in his department, everything from traffic patrol to going undercover, and each new position comes with new risks, yet he does it because he loves the community he serves. There are so many sacrifices that my dad makes each year for his job that normal people don’t even think about. Having two first responders as parents, it was not uncommon at all for us to have Christmas on Dec. 21, 22, or as close to the actual day as both of my parents could be off, and then pack up and head to a babysitter on Christmas. Just think about that for a minute, who do you ask to babysit on Christmas?
My family, extended family and parents' friend group were all deeply affected by my dad’s job. My dad has missed birthdays, daddy-daughter dances, soccer games, school plays, Freshman Orientation, Dad’s Weekend and so much more because of his job. We have endured his grumpy attitude and required quiet time while working midnights, something much easier said than done with three toddlers my mom tells me. We have dealt with his being called into work a new or exciting case at all hours of the night, his always unpredictable schedule and his constant change of position for my entire life. My family, therefore, must learn to in some way rotate our schedules with him while also trying to keep our daily lives normal. We would pick up on a random day and have to switch what time we got dropped off at school, how we were getting home, who would be cooking dinner (sometimes that was even my responsibility), and when we would even see our parents just because my dad had to change shifts. It is hard to be a police family; it is hard to be a police daughter; it is hard to be a police officer.
People in our community used to always praise my dad for the great things he did on the job. He pulled a child out of the window of a burning house a few years ago. I remember everyone being so impressed. He even got an award for his bravery. I was furious. What people don’t see is that this type of risk or sacrifice is not a one time thing for police officers. They takes these risks and show their bravery every day.
I am impressed because of what my dad is willing to sacrifice for people that seemingly hate him more than anything else in the world. It is so hard to accept that some of the people he leaves our family to serve are those that have no concern for what happens to police or see them as horrible people. I will be the first to admit that not every policeman across the nation is a saint. This is a fact, one that cannot be disputed. They do, however, serve our communities, take risks and choose to alter their lives to help others which warrants at least some level of respect. My dad is my hero not for the countless traffic stops that have made people safer drivers, or the drugs he has taken off of St. Louis streets, not for the child he saved from a burning house, or the sometimes horrible things he has had to endure to keep others safe. My dad is my hero because of what he gives up for the job and the community he loves. I know that every time my dad walks out that door, he is putting the control of what happens in his life in other people's hands. I am not OK with that lack of control and I never will be, but I understand it because of the passion he has for his job. Police families like mine can tell you, the men and women that go into work every day in their pressed blue uniforms and black shoes swearing to serve and protect are much more than the face of an institution. They are mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, family members, friends, neighbors, and most importantly, heroes.
