Why Don’t We March When A Police Officer is Murdered?

After two NYPD officers are killed, there is a question of what does compassion for cops killed in the line of duty actually look like.

Photo by Lev Radin/Pacific Press/LightRocket via Getty Images

When I moved to New York City in 2014 I worked as a reservationist at Blue Hill in the West Village. After work, I routinely walked to a hot yoga studio on 6th Ave for a workout before heading to class at The New School.

One day in July after my shift ended, I walked out of the restaurant and directly into the middle of a protest. The sea of protesters took up the entire street and sidewalks. There was another girl walking by herself next to me and I asked her, “Is this for the cigarette guy?” She said, “yea, Eric Garner. We're going all the way to City Hall.” As I marched with the protesters, past the yoga studio and The New School, more and more people joined in, and the chanting got louder. I was alone and a bit nervous to join in on the chanting at first, but by the time we had walked to Chambers Street, I was screaming and shouting No Justice, No Peace Fuck these Racist Ass Police louder than anyone there. When we arrived at City Hall we were met by police officers who were wearing t-shirts with the phrase I Can Breathe printed on them in bold white letters. A tasteless attempt at mocking Eric Garner’s last words, “I can’t breathe.”  

I stayed with the protestors until the sunset. On the way home I ran into my roommates at the front door of our apartment building, and excitedly showed them the photos of the protests and how amazing I felt sticking it to the man. Unbeknownst to me, they were also in the sea of protesters. We vented all night about how we felt about the police officers, and how when they bragged about their lack of empathy, I Can Breathe, it was in a way more disturbing than the death of Eric Garner. One of my roommates posted an Instagram video of me from that night, sitting on our kitchen countertop, saying, “If anything, the police should have been protesting with us! They should be just as outraged as we are! They want to earn our trust, protest with us!” 

Since 2014 I’ve attended dozens of protests, most of them in response to police murders of unarmed civilians. I rant and rave on social media about the incompetence and cold-heartedness of American police departments. I’ve written scathing historical accounts on the pattern of policemen who murder and beat their wives and families. I have hooted and hollered about the lack of humanity that seems to ooze out of the pores of cops when one of their peers is involved in a murder. I’m always flabbergasted that law enforcement officers show no care about a civilian dying a senseless death. 

Then last night, a deep wave of self-reflection came over me. 

Why don’t I preach, politic and protest for police officers who are murdered?