One night I was driving home
from yoga class when I was pulled over. I wasn't speeding and had no idea why I
was being pulled over. I was immediately annoyed as this was killing my
relaxing yoga buzz. The cop comes to my window and says, “Good evening, ma'am.
Do you have any idea why it would say you have no insurance when I ran your
tags?” I assumed “it” was a computer of some sort and resisted the urge to
demand to know who “it” was and why “it” was stalking me. Instead, I rolled my
eyes and said, “I better have insurance. The money has been coming out my
account every month.” I then reached into the glove compartment and handed the
officer my proof of insurance. He looked at it and said, “Everything seems in
order. Give me a minute. I'll be right back.” He goes to his car for less than
a minute and comes back with some bullshit story about typing in one number
wrong. “Can you believe it?” he asks. “The other car was also a silver Buick.”
He apologizes for bothering me and tells me to have a good night.
I don't buy his story. I'm
totally certain he was looking for a serial killer driving a silver Buick. When
he discovered he'd pulled over a middle-aged white woman in yoga pants, he
foolishly assumed I'm not a serial killer. He then had to be super nice to me
because I'm a middle-age white woman and I possess white privilege.
White privilege runs all
through this brief encounter with a police officer. For example, I rolled my
eyes and the officer was super nice to me. Sandra Bland – a black woman –
rolled her eyes at a cop and ended up dead. I reached into my glove compartment
without telling the officer what I was doing. Philando Castile – a black man –
told an officer he was reaching for his license and registration and was shot
multiple times. At no time during my brief encounter did I fear for my life.
Because I'm a middle-aged white woman in yoga pants.
Not long after my encounter,
a friend was stopped for a similar issue. She had recently moved and the whole thing
boiled down to a clerical error with the insurance company. The cop told her he
couldn't check it on the side of the road. He wrote her a ticket, told her
she'd be notified with a court date and she could straighten it out then. She
is black. Well, half black, actually. Which really sucks when you think about
it. Having only one Caucasian parent completely disqualifies a person from
possessing white privilege.
A few weeks pass and my
friend receives no notice regarding the court date. She calls the number on the
ticket to find out what she needs to do. She is told a notice was sent. She
missed her court date and an arrest warrant has been issued for failure to
appear. During the course of this conversation it's revealed the court notice
was sent to the wrong address. Her recent move being what caused all this
bullshit in the first place. Despite this revelation, she is told she must
immediately turn herself in to the police. She immediately freaked the fuck
out.
I told her to calm the fuck
down. “They're not sending a S.W.A.T. team to your house over a typo.” I was
then informed by another black friend that they will totally go to her house
and arrest her. I thought she was being overly dramatic. I was all like, “How
are they going to send a cop to her house when they don't seem to know where it
is?” And she was all like, “Oh, yes they
can. They will find her and put her in jail.” I then noticed my poor wanted
friend had begun visibly shaking and I realized we should probably not be
debating this in front of her. I also realized I was looking at this whole
situation from the vantage point of one who possesses white privilege.
Upon this realization, I
offered to accompany her to the courthouse to straighten this shit out. Knowing
full well they'd be less likely to fuck with her in the presence of a
middle-aged white woman in yoga pants. Especially a middle-aged white woman who
knows when to adopt the appropriate southern accent and patronizingly call
people “Hon.” Fortunately, the whole situation was cleared up without me having
to go all middle-aged white woman and use my yoga-toned legs to kick some ass.
More recently, a middle-aged
white teacher in yoga pants found herself in the position to stop somewhere
between one and three possible homicides. On a Saturday afternoon, she is
driving from the gym to pick up her husband who is waiting outside Costco with
their groceries. It doesn't get much whiter than that. As she's driving along
she sees three Hispanic teenage boys standing outside their car being
questioned by cops. She immediately recognizes one of the boys as a student of
hers.
She pulls up next to them,
rolls down her window and asks the student if he's okay. He says he's okay and
she starts to leave when she notices this young non-white man is wearing a
hoodie with a giant marijuana leaf on the front. She says to herself, “Fuck it.
I'm stopping. I'm not about to leave this kid alone wearing his fucking drug
paraphernalia with these potentially homicidal cops.”
She makes a U-turn and parks
behind the police. She steps out of her car wearing her yoga pants and holding
a Starbucks cup. Or maybe it was a smoothie. I don't remember, but I'm sure it
was something extremely Caucasian. One of the officers asks her to wait in her
car. He assures her she can speak to the boys once they're done. The police now
know they are being watched by a middle-aged white soccer mom in yoga pants.
They have no choice but to properly do their job and refrain from murdering
anyone.
While middle-aged white
woman in yoga pants is busy stopping a murder, her husband calls to find out
why she has yet to arrive at Costco. She explains what is going on, but he is
somewhat distraught over the state of his recently purchased frozen foods.
She's all like, “For fuck's sake. I'm saving lives here... maybe. Like, I don't
know for sure the cops were going to shoot these kids, but I know for sure they
can't now because I'm sitting here being all white up in their faces. Your
Popsicles can wait. Check your white privilege. Then use it to get another box
of Popsicles. You can totally go back into Costco and tell them they melted on
the way to the car. They'll give you another box without even mentioning you
left the store over an hour ago. You know what? Maybe you should wait for me.
This sounds like a job for a middle-aged white woman in yoga pants.”
She waited around a while
longer, but her husband got super anxious about his frozen foods. Fucking white
people. She left to take care of the Popsicle situation before she got a chance
to speak to the kids. I'd like to report the young man showed up at school on
Monday and told middle-aged white woman in yoga pants she saved the day. But
it's summer. School is out. However, I can report he was posting shit on his
Instagram later that day. So we're sure he's not dead and probably not in
prison. You know, unless he shoved his phone so far up his ass it went
undetected during a cavity search. But that seems unlikely. So probably not in
prison.
You may be wondering why
middle-aged white women in yoga pants strike fear in the hearts of police
officers. Don't know.
Middle-aged white men may be wondering if they possess
this very same white privilege. The answer is not really. While middle-aged
white men have possessed this power for centuries, they've also been abusing it
for centuries. I mean, a white man probably won't get shot by a cop, but he
won't be presumed innocent of serial killing either. Because most serial
killers are middle-age white men. Also, we're in the middle of the #metoo
movement. Middle-aged white men aren't looking so good right now.
As middle-aged white women
in yoga pants, we are sometimes unaware of the white privilege we possess.
However, in these uncertain times it's more important than ever we recognize
our white privilege and wield its power for good. I have conducted extensive
research. By which, I mean the three minor incidents previously described in
this post. Through this research, it has become clear to me middle-aged white
women in yoga pants hold the key to ending police violence. Ergo, I shall be
starting a neighborhood watch-type group to keep an eye on the police. It shall
be called White Women Watching. Read the flyer below to learn more.
White Women Watching
Are you a
middle-aged white woman who enjoys wearing yoga pants and hates police
brutality? Do you carry a designer handbag even when you're wearing yoga pants?
Does your phone have a sparkly pink case? Can you stare down an enemy combatant
with a nasty woman face while simultaneously holding a phone in one hand and a latte
or smoothie in the other? Do you pretend to be friends with the mayor or other
officials of dubious power to intimidate those who would piss you off? White
Women Watching can teach you to use all your Caucasian bullshit to save lives
and end careers.
White Women
Watching has been dedicated to our core mission of stopping the senseless
murder of unarmed non-white citizens since last month. Somewhere between one
and three possible police shootings have been stopped by Cheryl since the
founding of White Women Watching. Join White Women Watching today and you, too,
can be a Cheryl.
***White women who voted for Donald Trump are ineligible for
membership in the WWW.***
Frequently
Asked Questions
Q. I voted
for Jill Stein in 2016. Am I eligible for membership in the WWW?
A. Fuck
off, you useless bitch.
Q. Do I
have to be white, middle-aged or a woman to join?
A. No.
While only middle-aged white women can go on patrol, there are plenty of jobs
for others. These include training, tips, recruitment and the purchasing of
yoga pants.
Q. I'm not
white, but I can pass. Can I go on patrol?
A. Fuck
yeah. Nothing would be funnier than a Mexican woman with a sun allergy
intimidating a possibly homicidal cop with white privilege. You may have to use
an alias if your name sounds non-Caucasian. We recommend something like Cheryl
Whitelady.
Namaste, Bitches
