- people perceiving me
- me having a tangible form
- not thinking in black and white
- people actually caring about me
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When I love you,
I really fucking love you.
There are no in betweens.
I don’t know what grey is.
My love is black and white.
(My love is true)
Seriously: Next time someone asks why women (black women, white women, Latino women, goblin women, whatever, etc. ) are reluctant to get out of their cars for cops when stopped, just say two words: “Daniel Holtzclaw.”
For real, though: If you’re a woman who ever finds herself in an uncomfortable situation with a police officer: My advice:
OK, so, you’re sick in your stomach. You’re terrified of this man. You’re having a panic attack; But, no matter what, repeat this stuff:
Make a big fucking deal and say that you have a lawyer. You know a lot of lawyers. Publicity-hungry lawyers that would put Gloria Allred to shame. You will sue. You will talk. You will complain. You have a big fucking mouth. You will tell everyone in the world about this encounter.
Rapists are weak. They like to prey on the vulnerable. They hate anyone who won’t be silent.
That shit might just scare them off.