jahwarrior
Member
imported post
i've written enough about my (poor) experiences with local law enforcement because of open carrying. i'm now convinced most my problem is my ethnic background. i know of plenty of other guys in my town who carry with little to no issues.
a little about my background: i'm hispanic, born and raised in NYC. culturally, i'm a New Yorker more than i am anything else. i speak Spanish, semi-fluently. in truth, i identify more with black people than i do with hispanic people. my close friends say i'm a "bilingual nigga," which is the best way to describe what i am.
still, i've read discussions, and always wondered, how an actual black man who open carried would be looked at, by the general public, and by law enforcement. i got my chance the other day.
i was sitting in my yard with my brother, when i noticed a man on my neighbor's deck, across the yard. he was knocking on the door, and peering through their window. i instantly went to yellow status. when he turned around, i noticed he was carrying a Glock, and what i thought was a cell phone was an extra mag. my alert status went down, because of this. the fact that he was carrying a gun openly put me at ease. that fact didn't occur to me until later.
he was dressed business casual, and was clean cut, so my first assumption was that he was either a probation officer, or some other plainclothes law enforcement. he walked down the stairs, and noticed both my brother and i were watching him. he waved, and spoke.
"hey, y'all, you know the girl that lives there?"
"yes," i said. "why?"
"oh, i just came to pick up my daughter, the little girl? she's mine."
"ah! little Nicole? yeah, she's a cutie. you're her dad?"
"yeah, i just came to pick her up."
"oh, i haven't seen them. hey, can i ask you a question?"
"sure."
"are you law enforcement? just curious, you're carrying a Glock, and no offense, i've never seen another brother carrying in this town."
he laughed. "nah, man, i'm an electrician. i have my own business, and everything. i used to keep it in my truck, but i've been robbed twice now, the first time the broke into my truck and took everything. then i got held up in a parking lot in Wilkes-Barre. things around here are getting crazy, man. i left the city to get away from that nonsense. you always carry like that, too?"
"only when it's nice out. can i ask you another question? you get alot of @#$% for it? carrying openly like that, i mean."
"yeah, sometimes. you?"
my brother and i looked at each other, and laughed, a lot. "yeah, you could say that."
"damn. nigga with a gun got no place in this town, huh?" he laughed at that. "couple of months ago, some dude walked up on me and told me i better give up my loot. nigga had a knife and everything, waving that @#$% around. so what did i do? i pulled out on him. mutha@#$%a ran like he seen the devil. i called 911, told them what happened, and you know what those mutha@#$%as did? they grilled me about my gun. about why i pulled it out, why i had one in the first place, and they ran my numbers, too. damn. like i stole it or something."
"that was illegal."
"huh?"
"the police can't run your numbers unless they have a suspicion the gun is stolen. the cops @#$%ed up. was that here?"
"hell, that was right up on Greenridge. that's supposed to be the good neighborhood, and i had to point a gun at some punk ass kid. so they cops @#$%ed up, huh?"
"yeah, they're good for that."
"they mess with y'all, too?"
i went ahead and shared a few of my stories with him. he stood there, horrified, and amused, all at once. he kept shaking his head. "man, that's why i don't go out much." he looked down, and then said, "you know what the problem is, don't you?" he pointed at my arms, and then at his own. "we're the wrong color, is all."
my brother and i both nodded. "you ain't bull@#$%tin' there. i know plenty of guys in town who open carry, and they rarely get hassled. it pisses me off sometimes. not them, but the fact that cops are quick to surround me, hassle me, and try and make my life miserable, but rarely give a white boy a hard time."
"well, i remember in the news they gave some white boys a hard time up in Dickson City..."
my brother almost fell out of his chair, and i doubled over, laughing hysterically.
"what? were y'all there?"
"i was," i said, through my tears. "oh, it was great."
"what happened with that?"
"they're getting sued."
at that moment, my neighbor came walking down the alley, with their litte girl running ahead. he turned, and took her up in his arms. "hey man, it was good meeting you! i'm gonna get going, though."
"hey, wait, let me get you something, real quick," i said. i ran inside, and grabbed him a handy dandy gun rights flier. i came back out, and handed it to him. "there, this is a pretty neat little guide to your rights. if anyone asks you anything, you can refer to this. plus, there are some websites on the back there you can visit to learn more."
he looked it over, and thanked me. he bid me goodbye, holding his daughter by the hand.
so, i guess now i know. it's unwise to be brown skinned and carry openly, at least here in Scranton. which means, of course, i need to do it more.
i've written enough about my (poor) experiences with local law enforcement because of open carrying. i'm now convinced most my problem is my ethnic background. i know of plenty of other guys in my town who carry with little to no issues.
a little about my background: i'm hispanic, born and raised in NYC. culturally, i'm a New Yorker more than i am anything else. i speak Spanish, semi-fluently. in truth, i identify more with black people than i do with hispanic people. my close friends say i'm a "bilingual nigga," which is the best way to describe what i am.
still, i've read discussions, and always wondered, how an actual black man who open carried would be looked at, by the general public, and by law enforcement. i got my chance the other day.
i was sitting in my yard with my brother, when i noticed a man on my neighbor's deck, across the yard. he was knocking on the door, and peering through their window. i instantly went to yellow status. when he turned around, i noticed he was carrying a Glock, and what i thought was a cell phone was an extra mag. my alert status went down, because of this. the fact that he was carrying a gun openly put me at ease. that fact didn't occur to me until later.
he was dressed business casual, and was clean cut, so my first assumption was that he was either a probation officer, or some other plainclothes law enforcement. he walked down the stairs, and noticed both my brother and i were watching him. he waved, and spoke.
"hey, y'all, you know the girl that lives there?"
"yes," i said. "why?"
"oh, i just came to pick up my daughter, the little girl? she's mine."
"ah! little Nicole? yeah, she's a cutie. you're her dad?"
"yeah, i just came to pick her up."
"oh, i haven't seen them. hey, can i ask you a question?"
"sure."
"are you law enforcement? just curious, you're carrying a Glock, and no offense, i've never seen another brother carrying in this town."
he laughed. "nah, man, i'm an electrician. i have my own business, and everything. i used to keep it in my truck, but i've been robbed twice now, the first time the broke into my truck and took everything. then i got held up in a parking lot in Wilkes-Barre. things around here are getting crazy, man. i left the city to get away from that nonsense. you always carry like that, too?"
"only when it's nice out. can i ask you another question? you get alot of @#$% for it? carrying openly like that, i mean."
"yeah, sometimes. you?"
my brother and i looked at each other, and laughed, a lot. "yeah, you could say that."
"damn. nigga with a gun got no place in this town, huh?" he laughed at that. "couple of months ago, some dude walked up on me and told me i better give up my loot. nigga had a knife and everything, waving that @#$% around. so what did i do? i pulled out on him. mutha@#$%a ran like he seen the devil. i called 911, told them what happened, and you know what those mutha@#$%as did? they grilled me about my gun. about why i pulled it out, why i had one in the first place, and they ran my numbers, too. damn. like i stole it or something."
"that was illegal."
"huh?"
"the police can't run your numbers unless they have a suspicion the gun is stolen. the cops @#$%ed up. was that here?"
"hell, that was right up on Greenridge. that's supposed to be the good neighborhood, and i had to point a gun at some punk ass kid. so they cops @#$%ed up, huh?"
"yeah, they're good for that."
"they mess with y'all, too?"
i went ahead and shared a few of my stories with him. he stood there, horrified, and amused, all at once. he kept shaking his head. "man, that's why i don't go out much." he looked down, and then said, "you know what the problem is, don't you?" he pointed at my arms, and then at his own. "we're the wrong color, is all."
my brother and i both nodded. "you ain't bull@#$%tin' there. i know plenty of guys in town who open carry, and they rarely get hassled. it pisses me off sometimes. not them, but the fact that cops are quick to surround me, hassle me, and try and make my life miserable, but rarely give a white boy a hard time."
"well, i remember in the news they gave some white boys a hard time up in Dickson City..."
my brother almost fell out of his chair, and i doubled over, laughing hysterically.
"what? were y'all there?"
"i was," i said, through my tears. "oh, it was great."
"what happened with that?"
"they're getting sued."
at that moment, my neighbor came walking down the alley, with their litte girl running ahead. he turned, and took her up in his arms. "hey man, it was good meeting you! i'm gonna get going, though."
"hey, wait, let me get you something, real quick," i said. i ran inside, and grabbed him a handy dandy gun rights flier. i came back out, and handed it to him. "there, this is a pretty neat little guide to your rights. if anyone asks you anything, you can refer to this. plus, there are some websites on the back there you can visit to learn more."
he looked it over, and thanked me. he bid me goodbye, holding his daughter by the hand.
so, i guess now i know. it's unwise to be brown skinned and carry openly, at least here in Scranton. which means, of course, i need to do it more.
