The deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor thrust this country into a spiral in the early 2020s. Riots broke out in major metropolitan areas, police departments were burned to the ground, and more people were harmed or even killed. Do I blame them? No. No, I do not.
While I do not agree with the actions of these people, for I swore to uphold the law and protect the citizens of my city, I agree that it is not so different from what the New World settlers did to the tyrannical British monarchy. I have said it before and I will say it again: when people are suffering, they revolt. As a white man in America, I do not personally understand racism, sexism, or even classism, but I am fortunate enough to have a wife and children with brown skin. They have opened my eyes to racial and cultural clashes that, before them, went right over my head. Having even one connection to a different culture has been life-changing in how I conduct police work and how I treat people in general.
So how do I treat people of different races and cultures now? No differently than anyone else. But I will admit it was a gradual change. I was raised by a racist father, like so many others in my generation, and if you think you were not raised with racist tendencies, you are wrong.
Look at the definition of racism: prejudice or discrimination against someone because of their race or ethnicity. Two words stand out—prejudice and discrimination. Prejudice means a preconceived opinion not based on reason or experience. Discrimination means unjust treatment of people based on categories instead of individual merit. This happens across all races, cultures, and religions. White people to Black people. Black people to Hispanics. Even within races themselves. Puerto Ricans do not like Mexicans for reasons that often make no sense.
Once I came to grips with this, I decided to run a personal experiment. I sat in a restaurant facing the door, watching people come in. When a white person walked in, I thought, “Just a guy.” When a person of a different race came in, I automatically added a descriptor: “That is a Black guy,” “That is an Asian woman.” I did not do that with white people because I am white. That is what I see in the mirror every day. Realizing this was my first step. Turning everyone into “just a person.” The military was critical in making that change. When you work shoulder to shoulder with people toward a common goal, competence shows itself. Time and again, people proved my preconceptions wrong. Over time, those preconceptions faded.
But you cannot change your mindset by sitting on the couch watching movies or news reports. You change it by being active in your community and exposing yourself to culture. The military gave me the foundation, but policing forced me to keep expanding.
Life
I work in a primarily low income part of my city. If you really walk those streets and observe, you see all races and backgrounds. Poverty does not belong to one group. The behavior in these areas can be rough, sometimes even violent, but can you really blame them?
They rent from slumlords who charge the maximum possible for the worst housing conditions. They are surrounded by broken sidewalks, abandoned homes, trash-filled lots, and city leaders who barely acknowledge their existence. The city spends its money on flowers and bike trails for neighborhoods that already look like postcards. Meanwhile, these communities are left to rot. And when they ask for investment, the answer is that gentrification is too expensive.
Their wages never match the inflated economy. They work two or three jobs and still come up short. They are already defeated before they start. And yet, they still have children to raise, mouths to feed, bills to pay. They are reminded every single day that they are at the bottom.
No, this does not excuse crime. But it explains the anger. It explains why people see police as nothing more than the armed face of a government that has abandoned them. They do not see us as protectors, they see us as enforcers of their misery. They believe we are there to strip away rights, not defend them. So they fight us, sometimes openly and violently, trying to hold on to freedoms they feel are being stolen.
But here is the catch. Crime does not free them. It pushes them deeper. They lose jobs, they lose homes, they lose family ties. One arrest can set someone back years. That frustration piles up, and when it spills over, it looks like revolt. Not just against me personally, but against the entire system I represent.
I realized quickly that they are angry with me not for who I am but for who I represent. The government has failed them for decades, then sends me—Mister Middleclass—in a military style uniform, with a gun and a badge, and expects me to solve generational poverty and family collapse by locking people up. Which one is easier? Arresting someone or fixing poverty? And too many officers take the shortcut. Yes, some crimes require an immediate arrest. But too many officers treat arrest as the first and only option.
We are called civil servants. If you are an officer, deputy, or agent reading this: be the servant until you absolutely must be the authority. Fun fact—it makes your job easier to take a little more time.
And let me be clear. Service is not weakness. Listening is not weakness. Taking time to talk is not weakness. Any officer can slap on cuffs. Any deputy can write a citation. But the real test is whether you can de-escalate without force, whether you can solve a problem without destroying someone’s life. If you wear this badge, remember this: your job is to protect first, enforce second. If you cannot be a servant, then you should not be an authority.
Understanding
We cannot solve every life circumstance. That is between the victim, the suspect, and God. But I have learned to use the social skills I was taught as a child to guide people toward solving their problems.
Crimes can be avoided, but that does not mean they are easy to prevent. We tell addicts to go to rehab. We tell victims of abuse to leave. We tell burglars to stop stealing. In theory, that sounds simple. But reality is never that clean.
An addict may know drugs destroy lives, but they may also know addicts who lived long enough to convince them otherwise. A victim may desperately want to leave their abuser but cannot because of money, children, or fear. A burglar may not have been raised with ethics, may not have ever been taught empathy, may not have one single skill to help them step into legitimate work.
You can preach responsibility all day long, but if no one ever gave them the tools to live differently, they will go back to what they know. That is not making excuses—it is facing reality. If you ignore the reasons, you will never understand the crime. And if you never understand the crime, you will never prevent the next one.
That is not “hug a thug.” That is just the truth.
Learn
I found that when I faced my own biases and considered the circumstances of the people I dealt with, I became more competent. Listening made me more effective. Most people simply want to be heard. If you give them that, they open up, they get honest, and you can ask the right questions to actually solve the problem at hand.
Most encounters can be positive if I keep that mindset. Am I perfect? No. I have impatient days where I do not care as much as I should. Is this a perfect science? No. Sometimes a crime is so serious that an arrest must happen immediately. And yes, the reputation of police is so damaged that people often lie or resist from the start.
But here is what I know: if we stop listening, if we stop serving, if we stop trying, we will end up with more George Floyds and more Breonna Taylors. And when people are suffering, they will revolt. That cycle will never end—unless we do better.
Very Respectfully,
Mister Middleclass 
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