Skip to main content

Suburban Fears




Call the police. 

If you want to know when to call the police, you should definitely go to NextDoor. They will tell you to call the police for any old thing. Correction: if you want justification for calling the police, that is. 

Someone’s walking down the street who looks odd to you? Call the police. 

Neighbor’s party too loud? Call the police. 

Someone’s dog pees on your flower pots? Call the police.

So, what is it this time, you ask?

Kids shouldn't be out after 9 p.m. Call the police. 

Yikes.

Here’s the context: a post expressing frustration and annoyance:

Kid decided to bang on my garage or the next door neighbors door at 9:45 pm last night…

Okay, that’s annoying - - and possibly frightening? - - but is that a good reason to call the police? How did we get from a personal experience related by a frustrated neighbor to this response to her complaint?

Kids shouldn't be out after 9 p.m. Call the police. 

Another poster took issue with this, saying:

School is out. Kids can be out as late as their parents permit. Banging on garage doors is not okay. Being out certainly is.

You’d be amazed to learn how many people were shocked to learn that. It’s not what they wanted to believe. Because it’s a whole lot easier if you criminalize the very act of being out after 9 pm. Then you can feel justified in calling the police.

One of the recurring themes on NextDoor about situations like this is “where are the parents?” People go on and on about the nameless, faceless parents who are simply not raising their kids right. I often wonder why we don’t know our neighbors well enough to go outside and talk to the annoying kids. When did the accepted norm for non-violent suburban disturbances become an automatic call to the police?

I know I am inviting the exception that proves the rule, but - - I don’t think I’ve ever seen a police report in Columbia/HoCo where an adult went out to talk to unruly kids and came to an untimely end. Is that what people think - - that our community is full of armed teenaged gangs who will kill you if you leave your fortress house to converse with them about banging on your garage door?

If we knew our neighbors better and felt a sense that we were all “in community” with one another, would we handle situations like this differently? 

Okay, at nine forty five pm I would probably be in my nightclothes already and I would feel dopey putting on a bathrobe and slippers to handle an awkward situation. I get that. But is that a good reason to call the police? Once you call the police all kinds of things are set in motion. Nationwide the outcomes to such calls are often unwarranted violence against Black and Brown community members, and those with developmental disabilities or experiencing a mental health crisis.

I wrote about this last year when I looked at the move away from National Night Out in some communities across the US. 

What Makes Us Safer? August 22, 2022

“Recently retired Ravens football player Torrey Smith, a Howard County resident, related the following experience on Twitter:

Nothing like a casual encounter with Karen walking the dog smh

Update: She called the cops 😑

The lady told me last night “You don’t live here, I live here” as I’m 40 yards from my property and half a mile from hers 😑

This is definitely a case where knowing one’s neighbors would be a vast improvement over the white, affluent fall-back position: the police are here to protect me. Just call them; they’ll handle it.”


Calling the police can have life or death consequences. Why are so many people willing to pick up that phone? 



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Teacher Gifts

Today is the last day of school before the Winter Break. It’s a good time to remember the far-reaching nature of our public school system. You may not have children. You may have sent your children to independent schools. It matters not. You will be impacted one way or another. Yesterday I read a long thread on Facebook about several waves of illness in the schools right now. There’s influenza A and norovirus, I believe. And of course there’s COVID. Apparently in some individual schools the rate of illness is high enough for school admin to notify parents.  When I was little the acceptable holiday gift for a teacher was one of those lovely floral handkerchief squares. (I don’t know what it was for male teachers. They were rare in my elementary years.) These days the range of teacher gifts is wider and I have fond memories of Target gift cards which I have written about before. I think it’s safe to say that giving one’s teacher Influenza, norovirus, or COVID is not the ideal holiday...

They Can Wait

This is not a typical Saturday post. That’s because, in my community, it’s not a typical Saturday.  Oakland Mills High School, after years of deferred repair, needs massive renovation. It’s pretty simple: when you don’t fix a problem it gets bigger. The school system itself said the the OMHS school building was  "no longer conducive to learning" back in 2018.  2018 .  But Thursday the Boad of Education voted to push it out of the lineup of important projects which will be given the go-ahead to proceed soonest.  In my opinion it’s a terrible decision and sets a dangerous precedent. To explain, here’s the advocacy letter I sent in support of Oakland Mills High School. I was rather proud of it. I am writing to ask you to proceed with needed renovation at Oakland Mills High School in the most timely and comprehensive manner humanly possible. I have read the letter sent to you by the Oakland Mills Community Association and I am in complete agreement. You are extremel...

Columbia Chance Connection

  Last night, as my husband and I were about to sit down to dinner, our front door swung open and a cheery voice announced, “I’m ba—ack!”  We weren’t expecting anyone. Clearly the only people who’d walk right in to our house would be one of our offspring. I had my reading glasses on so I wasn’t seeing too clearly. It seemed too tall for our youngest, but we knew our eldest was at work. I took off my glasses to see a friendly but confused face scanning our living room. When her gaze landed on us we all had a sudden realization. We didn’t know eachother. “Oh I’m so sorry! I’m in the wrong house! My daughter just moved in and she needed hooks for the kitchen so I ran out to get them.” She waved the package. “All these houses look the same and I don’t know the neighborhood yet. I thought this was my daughter’s house.” We were all getting a bit giggly. “That’s okay. For a quick second we thought you were our daughter,” said my husband. I told her our names and said she should defin...