By Jamie Cho, Ph.D.
As a Chinese American woman who was born and raised in the U.S., speaks English, holds a terminal degree, and lives an upper-middle-class lifestyle in the suburbs, I have never had to call the police for personal protection. The privileges I hold that have benefitted me are often invisible until contrasted with the very real, frightening experiences of those who do need personal protection through law enforcement, but get little assurance that they will receive the protection they deserve.
A few days ago, a victim-survivor of egregious and ongoing racist harassment called 911. She asked for a Mandarin interpreter. When the interpreter and the police officer were on the phone, the call was disconnected. The victim-survivor then called 911 again and asked for a Mandarin interpreter. She repeated, again, what had happened. The 911 operator said a police officer would call her back. Twenty minutes later, the police officer called the survivor back. The survivor asked for an interpreter. The police officer was curt and rude, saying, “Your English is fine. You don’t need an interpreter.” He refused to come to her property to document the harassment.
When a survivor, who has been abused over the last three years and lives 10 feet away from their harasser, calls the police, the police should promptly respond. They should provide interpretation so that the survivor can fully share their experiences. The police officer should be courteous and reassuring that they will do what is necessary to keep the survivor safe. The police, in holding their vow to “serve and protect,” when asked to come to the survivor, should do so without argument.
When I heard about the latest harassment, I quickly left my home to support the survivor. When I arrived, the survivor told me that the police refused to come. We called 911 again, and, this time, I spoke with the operator on the victim-survivor’s behalf. In the brief call, I explained to the 911 operator that this harassment needed to be documented since there is a 10-year protection order in place, and that this is a frightening recurrence of three years of harassment. Half an hour later, a police officer knocked on the door. In the next 17 minutes, the victim-survivor detailed what happened with some translation support that I provided. This police officer gave us the information we needed to provide supporting evidence for all the instances of harassment since the issuance of the protection order and written report from the witness, who also needs interpretation.
While the first and second police officers were different people, and no doubt had distinct personalities, when we compare the experience of the survivor trying to get a response from the police, and my experience supporting the survivor, it is a stark contrast. These wildly disparate interactions with law enforcement beg the question, is safety only reserved for English-speaking people, for those who are persistent, for those who can provide their own interpreter, and/or for those who do not have an urgent need for protection?
When someone calls 911, they need a speedy response from a police officer who will be empathetic, be reassuring, and ensure their safety. When someone asks the police for an interpreter, the police officer’s only response should be, “Yes, I will get one for you.” When someone requests that the police officer come to the site of a protection order violation, the police officer should agree immediately.
After the police officer left, I sat down and felt emotional about what had transpired. As much as that police officer appeared reasonable and polite, my thought at that moment was, “I wish a white man had been here.” If a white man had been here, the police officer probably wouldn’t have interrupted us as much. If a white man had been here, the police officer probably wouldn’t have needed as much explanation to move forward with documenting the violation. If a white man had been here, maybe there wouldn’t have been any harassment at all.
I’m glad I was there with the survivor that day and was able to spend my privilege so that she could be heard. I’m grateful the second police officer responded more sensitively and will take the next steps to document the protection order violation. But I should not have had to be there for the police to respond in humanizing ways. A survivor should not have to call 911 three times to get a police officer to come to their home. And none of us should feel safe knowing that police responses to calls for help are mediated by privilege or lack thereof.
Here’s the thing about privilege. When you have it, you often don’t know it. Were you to lose it, it would become visible. And if you spend it, you will do more good than harm. The irony is that the survivor is being harassed because she spent her privilege protecting other victims from this racist neighbor. Let her lived experience be an example of bravery for all of us. Those of us who walk with privilege, and see others being harmed, should use our privilege to make this world more socially just. Spending our privilege is not an abstract concept but a very concrete one defined by the way we show up for folks who might need us.