The Day the Cops Stopped Me While Riding a Bicycle – Twice

There are moments when time and distance tends to let things escape our collective thoughts. We've long since have forgotten about them sometimes because it's a recurring thing and sometimes it's just so plain innocuous. But then there are times when those recurring and innocuous things get a memory jog from some of the recent events surrounding police officers and American black males. One of the headlines that I read was “Why do cops stop black drivers more than white?” As simple a question that may be, it is beset with more complicated issues involving race and trust and profiling. In my case, I began to recall a couple of incidents where I was pulled over by the police when I was on a bicycle. The first such incident occurred at night at 2:00 a.m. in the morning.

On this particular day, I was involved in the film community by being an extra in films that were being shot in the Houston area. I had a friend who was a casting director and she knew that I was a writer who pursuing a career in screenwriting. She had told me if I wanted to learn the business that I needed to know the business of film. With her help, I jumped into the arena of doing extra work and at the same time, studying the intricacies of film making. I wasn't interested in being in front of the camera and wanted to know more about what went on behind the camera. However, I had this face that was good in expressing itself and I was tall. So, on this particular day, I decided to ride my bike to the set. Now keep in mind that film shoots last easily to twelve hours. You go over take after take after take. And once a scene is done, you set up for the next shot. It is a business of patience. As day turned into night, that day of filming finally wrapped up. I decided to head to my mailbox to check the days mail. It was the early morning hours and there was no traffic. My travels was not hindered by any oncoming vehicles. As I went through Bellaire, Texas, my travels did become hindered.

As I rode along, there was no traffic on the road. I stopped at the intersection and then proceeded forth. As I crossed through the intersection, I noticed flashing lights behind me. I was being pulled over by not one cop, but by three cops. As I stopped, all three cops got out of their patrol car and approached me. One was clearly in charge and clearly loaded for a conflict. I don't recall what I had said but the officer said that I had ran a red light. Now I do know what I said when he said that, “ On a bike?” That had me stymied. Here I am on a bike, traveling x-amount of distance and there is no traffic at all on the road and I am suppose to wait 45 seconds for the light to turn green. I wasn't on a motorized vehicle, I was on a ten speed bike.

As I faced three Bellaire cops, I kept my calm. I was toting a satchel that contained my clothes that I wore on the set. In the film, I played a cop. Ironic, isn't it. They asked if they could search my satchel. Let's see, three cops and one of me on a bike. Sure. So they searched and as they did, they found all of these police baseball caps that I had brought to the set. There was a New York City police cap, a San Francisco police cap, a SWAT police cap and a plain police cap that was used on the set. They also found a slingshot that I had forgotten about. The aggressive cop freaked out and said that was a weapon. Now here, you're tempted to be a smart ass because you want to say that you never heard of anyone holding up a 7-11 store with a slingshot. But I don't see this guy having a sense of humor.

Now there are talking points of late about deescalating a situation. While this one officer was getting riled up, a second officer was figuring things out as the number of police caps that I had became a question. He pulled the other officer over and they started talking. The aggressive officer took a pause and returned my stuff and I was allowed to leave without a ticket. As I left, I figured that if I didn't allegedly ran that light, they would have found another cause to stop me.

The second episode occurred when I was in downtown Houston. At this time, it was during the daytime. I was heading through downtown and as I recall, I had stopped on the sidewalk after getting something from a Randall's grocery store. As I was waiting on the sidewalk, I noticed a HPD patrol car circling the block. Now if you're black in America, you already have that sense that you are about to be confronted by the cops for some unknown reason. Sure as shit, as the expression goes, the cops pull up to the corner where I was about travel. In this patrol car were two cops dressed in black T-shirts with the words 'Houston Police' written across it. One officer was black, the other Asian. The black one was the aggressor. When he pulled up, the first thing out of his mouth was, “Where did I get the bike from?” It wasn't stolen and I don;t think any calls came through about a stolen bike. This bike was unique. I used to produce a top morning radio program in Houston. WE did a lot of charitable bike runs for different causes. A local bike shop gave me one of their surplus bikes as a cross promotion that was normal. This particular bike had the word “police' stenciled on it. I rode that bike for months without a peep from anybody in law enforcement as I rode it in front of many officers in the past. This time it was different.

When the cop asked me where I got my bike, I knew he was looking for a justification for stopping me. The tricky things is that when you know some of the law, you're doomed for failure when you are put in the position of defending your rights. I knew that even with the word 'police' on the bike, it was not illegal because the word 'Houston' wasn't on there. The officer made the claim that the word 'police' was illegal to have on the bike. So as they ran my information, you felt even more violated because they are digging into your life. I had nothing against me. He had ordered me to scrap the word 'police' off of my bike. He was asking me to deface my own bike for something that was not illegal. And while he and the other officer stood over me, I took a small blade and proceeded to remove the word off my bike in four places. It didn't feel right whatsoever. It was becoming a bike that had no meaning to me. I don't know why but it just did. Somewhere along the line, I feel like my constitutional rights had been violated. Once I had done that, they left. It still bothers me to this day.

If there ever was a reason to understand why the community is at odds with the police force, it is situations like this, unnecessary harassment that lingers and festers lie a scab on an old wound. You want to voice your thoughts while you are under their thumb but they use the law in such a way that you, unless you have a law degree, are unarmed and defenseless to their authoritarian tactics. And as I was minding my own business, not violating any laws, I get harassed and more than likely, profiled in this situation. I know that all cops aren't like these that I experienced but it is these types of cops that sullies the image of the cops that are out there doing the honorable thing. It is a hard job but it shouldn't be made harder by the cops who already have their minds made up.