As abolitionists call for abolishing police and prisons, the retorted question is “But who will keep us safe?”
But cops don’t keep us safe. We’re not safe now.
We’re not all at the same level of safety, in this country. That’s obvious. Black people (particularly dark skinned Black people), people of marginalized genders (especially transgender folks), queer people, disabled people, poor people, the many people who sit at various intersections of all the identities I’ve already listed… These people are more often confronted with the reality of unsafe conditions. Unhoused people who are not in a warm bed, behind a door they can lock each night… They are very aware of their lack of safety.
Those of us who are in the warm bed behind the locked door may think we’re safe. And in many ways we are safer, that’s true. But are we safe? Or are we just letting cops and a certain amount of money in the bank and locked doors and weapons convince us of the myth? The myth that we are different from those on the street. That there is something key that separates us from them, something key that will keep us from ending up in their shoes.
This safety is a myth. We’re not safe at all.
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Are we even safe within our own homes?
I don’t mean that at any point “the other” you are condemning, whether it’s an unhoused man on the street or a serial assaulter, I don’t mean we’re not safe from “them.” Maybe we have enough barriers that would stop outsiders from breaking into our homes.
But the truth is, there is no “them.” The threats are inside.
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What does it mean to be safe?
Are you safe when surrounded by loved ones? With your parents? With your partner?
We know that’s not often the case.
There’s the obvious elephant in the room. Abuse. We live in a society that encourages abuse, teaches abusive behavior as normal, in fact more than that… encourages abusive behavior as “true love.” We know that this comes from parents, friends, and lovers.
But we’re not always talking about abuse. Sometimes it’s an inability to emotionally regulate. Sometimes it’s a lack of coping skills.
I wasn’t safe to be myself with my parents. Because they didn’t know how to be themselves.
My parents were single, had ADHD and didn’t know it, and were recovering from their own traumas… so my emotions were triggering. And my tears and intense feelings were often met with reactions that let me know they were unwelcome.
What that meant was that I could not be safe with them. Though they never harmed me intentionally, I knew they were not a safe space where I could share my emotions. So then, when my emotions got heavier… I was on my own.
What does it mean to be safe? ____________________________________________________________________________
Early in 2021, I wanted a coke from the corner store. I had just cooked a good meal which I needed to celebrate (cooking was hard at this point), so I went to leave my apartment. And I couldn’t get out. The lock was stuck. I was locked in.
It was hilarious. I was frustrated that I couldn’t get my coke, but happy that I had already cooked food and had everything I needed inside. Being locked in instead of locked out really tickled me. I called our emergency maintenance, they came, and they had to remove my whole doorknob and replace it before I could leave.
The whole thing took about two and a half hours. I was grateful that it had happened at a time when my need to get out was very low. Happy that I didn’t end up ordering food, and had to tell someone to leave it out there. I was also really grateful that it wasn’t a few months earlier when we had several nights where the fire alarm went off. None of them ended up being an actual fire– but we didn’t know that until we got out, and still needed to evacuate for safety and wait for the fire department’s word. Good thing this didn’t happen when we had a fire alarm, or otherwise I would have been stuck.
Oh shit. What if there had been a fire? That thought crossed my mind and suddenly I was looking at the situation differently. What if it had been a different night and a different situation? What if there had been a fire and my door had locked me inside so I couldn't evacuate? What would I have done? How would I have left my tall building, of which I’m on the third floor if my only available exit was blocked? The circumstances tonight were funny, sure. But they weren't safe.
Yes, I have anxiety. Yes, that hadn’t happened in my building. But it’s obviously not impossible. And I’m lucky. Worse buildings have worse infrastructure. Not only do terrible things happen, but worse yet, people get criminalized because they couldn’t afford to live in a safer situation.
What does it mean to be safe? ____________________________________________________________________________
At any point, the State could take any of us. If they wanted to. If you did something to piss somebody off. If they thought you were somebody else. If you dared to resist. At any moment, the State could separate us from our loved ones, lock us in a cage, and subject us to torture. At any moment.
Is that safety?
The police don’t keep us safe. Prisons don't keep us safe.
We’re not safe now.
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