The Cops Don't Need You, and They Expect...

Today I offended someone I genuinely like, enough that she left the website where I know her and may not return. I fear I presented the last straw.

What I did, on a board not intended for sociopolitical rants, was rant against law enforcement. I should not have done it there—it’s a board for a particular writing genre—but I’d just learned it happened again, to someone I know in real life, and my anger clouded my usual judgment. Which does not excuse my post.

I have apologized publicly and privately, but there’s no indication she saw either. Sigh...



I first learned this was A Thing when I was twenty-one.

A little backstory: I’d skipped a grade in elementary school, moving from an excellent school district to one that wasn’t nearly so challenging. When driver’s education classes were offered my junior year, I wasn’t old enough to do the behind-the-wheel portion of the class. I took the classroom-only part in summer school. My senior year, things went wildly off-kilter when my father became seriously ill, and whether I learned to drive was not terribly important.

Mom chauffeured me to my summer job, and I didn’t need to drive in college, where I rarely left the immediate area. My roommate and her boyfriend taught me to drive after graduation, when I needed to get a real job that wasn’t likely to be near home.

So I was newly licensed, driving home from my relatively new job in a very old car, when the police car behind me put on its red flashing light. I pulled over. I lifted my purse from the floor and put it on the bench seat next to me, knowing he’d want to see my license.

The officer was probably around thirty-five, which seemed old to me, although he was reasonably good looking if you liked the clean-cut type. I didn’t.

I rolled down my window. “Did I do something wrong?” I was sure I’d signaled my left turn.

“You went through the intersection with your turn signal on.”

“I was going to turn. That’s my driveway.” I pointed. “You’re supposed to signal a hundred feet before you turn. There’s nothing about ‘except if there’s an intersection.’”

He smirked. “I don’t want to write you up. Moving violation tickets are expensive. You ever been ticketed?” He removed the pen from a small metal clipboard with self-carboning forms in pink, yellow, and blue.

“No, sir.”

“So you’re a virgin, and I get to be your first.”

“I hope not. Cars behind me have come too close to rear-ending me when I slow for my driveway. I always signal.”

“Right through the intersection. Maybe we could find a way out of this other than a moving violation ticket.”

“I really don’t think it’s against the law.”

“That’s for the judge to decide. What size bra do you wear?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think—”

He bent to reach through the window, his free hand grasping for my breasts. I reared away, and his fingertips barely brushed my blouse. “Come on, they’re nice. You be nice, too. You don’t want a ticket.”

“No, but…”

“That’s your driveway right there? You live alone?”

“Roommates. They’re home. Charlotte and Keith.” They were probably at work; I usually got home first.

“You have your own room?”

I did, but I didn’t want to say so. His erection pressed at the fly of his uniform, aligned with my open window when he stood straight, and he made no attempt to hide it.

“Because we could make this go away in about ten minutes, right in your room. You show me your titties, give me a little loving with that smart mouth that recites the turn signal law, and we call it a day. Tell me yes.”

I was speechless. ‘Yes’ was not on the table.

“Come on, I don’t want to write you up. What I want is to see those titties, then you show me some oral respect.”

A car nearly as old as mine pulled off the road in front of us, backed up to close the gap, and parked. My roommate Keith, who would marry Charlotte and move out the following year, recognized my car and stopped. He was beefy, with long hair, and was probably the most good-natured person I knew. Everybody liked Keith, whose round face wore a permanent smile.

He got out and sauntered up to the cop. He wasn’t smiling. “What seems to be the problem, officer?”

“Step away from the car,” the cop said.

Keith must have seen the distress on my face, because he did not back down. “I don’t think so. You want me to stay, Maryn, or go inside and call Mom’s lawyer? He’ll pick up until six.”

“Stay,” I said.

The cop closed his citation notebook and poked the pen back in its holder. “I’ll let you off with a warning,” he said and stomped back to his patrol car.

He’d never looked at my license.

After I’d told Keith, Charlotte, and some friends at work what happened, everyone seemed to agree I should have gotten his name, found witnesses, called the newspaper, the mayor, the investigative TV reporter who was more about pretty than journalism. But how could I prove it? Even Keith hadn’t seen anything untoward.

Two days later, I’d hand washed my lingerie after dinner and hung it on the clothesline next to the parking for our triplex. In the morning I was running behind and I left them for the day so I wouldn’t be late for work. When I got home, the bras were gone.

It was him, had to be. I’d lived there for three years by then, and no one ever bothered my laundry or Charlotte’s, including lingerie, no matter how long we left it hanging on the line.

I took a different route home from work after that, but sometimes I’d see a patrol car parked on our quiet street for a half hour or so, which I’d never noticed before. Was it him? I didn’t know. It made me supremely uneasy, and when it was there, I tried not to leave the house in case it was him and he followed me.



Years later, married and in another city, I went to a bridal shower that got fairly wild as these things go. The mothers of the bride and groom had left, along with others of their generation, leaving the remaining young women to drink to excess, talk loud over the music, and later enjoy a pair of male strippers, one of whom had sex with the maid of honor.

Which is beside the point. The point is, alcohol erased any reservations among friends of friends we didn’t know well or had met only hours earlier. I learned that Camilla,the bride’s best friend, had a cop pull her over for leaving her lane. She felt sober after one drink, but she’d had a previous arrest for DWI. After the police officer had that information, he said he could arrest her or she could give him a blow job. She chose the blow job and considered it a good deal.

Another woman I’d only met that night heard the end of the story, clarified what she’d understood, and said it happened to her sister Penny, only she’d been scared rather than pragmatic, begging the cop to let her go with a warning. He wouldn’t. She’d been laid off over a month ago and couldn’t afford to pay a fine, so she did it. He’d been older, at least fifty, and fat, and it turned her away from oral completely. Her boyfriend broke up with her when she would no longer do what she’d done before so often.



Fast forward to many years passing, to yet another city. A young woman whose wedding I’d attended two years earlier was speeding on a stretch of road where literally every vehicle goes over the limit by twenty miles an hour except when it was icy.

Margaret and her husband were having both financial and marital troubles; unknown to her, Travis’s hours had been cut to part time before he was fired for drinking on the job. Instead of telling her about either one, he’d continued to leave the house in his business clothes and spent his days drinking, using the money in the bank account where they were saving for the down payment on a house, until it was gone. He stole cash from her purse and sold things in their apartment, including wedding gifts. Finally he’d had a health crisis that landed him in the ICU, directly related to long term alcoholism, and of course he had no health insurance because he had no job and had hidden it from his wife.

A faithful wife, Margaret told her boss she needed to be at the hospital. He agreed she could take as much unpaid leave as she needed and he would hold her position for her. Margaret didn’t know where next month’s rent and car payment were going to come from, and the hospital bill had already reached five figures. Recently she’d returned to a part-time night job she’d had in college, working at a twenty-four hour grocery store. She was on her way there when the cop pulled her over.

The police officer didn’t stop any other cars speeding, only Margaret’s. He directed her to pull over in the parking lot of a defunct business, where he told her she was getting a ticket for speeding, that he’d clocked her doing fifty-two in a thirty-five zone, and could she afford a ticket?

Already crying, she said she couldn’t. He proposed another solution. She cried all the way through it and could not read his name tag through her tears, but she gave him the blow job.



And this is why I needed to rant about police, about the way the job seems to draw a certain kind of man who feels it’s his right to force women to give him head or take an unjustified ticket, or to use needless force against black men, trans women, and the mentally ill because he can. All the while, the good officers who make up the majority know about the monsters in their ranks yet cannot do what it takes to rid law enforcement of the bad ones, because they’re powerless against the system and the union that protects them all, monsters and saints alike.

The Lady Doth Protest

 As someone who's older, wise, and far less afraid of what it will do to my family if I should be arrested for doing the right thing, I'm more inclined to join protests than ever before. Being me, I researched how do to it right, and safely. This information is cobbled together from many sources.

Attending Protests

The DON’Ts

Cell Phones: Don’t even bring it. Regardless of how you turn it off, turn off location service, use airplane mode, deactivate facial or fingerprint recognition, change passwords, etc., the police or other law enforcement agencies may be able to use your phone to prove you were there and/or remained after being told to disperse. It’s not uncommon for phones temporarily confiscated to be damaged. If you can afford it and must remain in contact with someone, consider a burner phone.

Social Media: Don’t use any social media platform to plan, respond to the plans of others, or otherwise make public your attendance at a protest, before or after it occurs.

Contact Lenses: Don’t wear them. They can literally melt to the eye when police use pepper spray or tear gas. (There seems to be some disagreement on which is more harmful to contact lens wearers, but the bottom line remains the same: don’t wear them.)

Makeup: Don’t wear it, especially eye makeup, which traps tear gas or pepper spray right by the eyes. This includes facial moisturizer, which can mix with pepper spray and help it cling to skin.

Jewelry: It can identify you in photos, be lost or broken, or disappear in police custody. Remove all of it, including piercings (if possible) and wedding rings.

Valuables: Leave them where they are safe, including credit cards and most of your cash.

Knives, Drugs, Weapons, or anything else you don’t want in your possession if you are arrested.

Long Hair Worn Loose (or grab-able, like a braid, topknot, bun, or pony tail). Restrain your long hair flat against your head with low-profile barrettes.

Purse: This means of carrying what you may want or need is the least convenient and the most easy to take from you. Replace with a small backpack or a fanny pack.

Signs on Sticks: Some protest organizers report that a sign’s stick can be used to harm the person carrying it or others. It’s also the best way for your sign to be seen in a crowd. Decide carefully and adhere to any guidelines set by organizers.

COVID Precautions

Even if you are vaccinated and boosted, a close crowd raises the chance of infection transmission.

Wear a face mask at all times, over your nose and mouth. If you have them, bring spares for others.

Carry hand sanitizer and use it often.

If you feel unwell or live with people at high risk for COVID complications, don’t attend.

Basics to Bring, in a small backpack or a fanny pack

COVID mask, not readily identifiable

Hand sanitizer

Water

Portable snacks like protein bars, fruit, crackers

First aid items: bandaids, antibacterial wipes, gauze pads and tape, menstrual pads, tampons

Cash and change, but not a large amount

Your ID, stored securely--in your sock or shoe, a zipped pocket, etc., not in a backpack

Earplugs to protect against police use of stun grenades to disperse crowds, although construction-grade earmuffs are better—but bulky

Protective shattterproof goggles for tear gas or pepper spray. If you wear glasses, goggles must fit over them. Together a non-unique COVID mask and goggles makes facial recognition technology difficult or impossible to use against protesters

Necessary medications in their original Rx container

Emergency phone numbers, written in permanent marker on your arm:

• One or two family members or friends to contact if you are arrested, injured, or stranded
• An attorney
• Any hotline offering legal support to protesters

A buddy. It’s important to have someone who will be looking out for you, and you for them.

Maybe:

• Print map of the protest area, on a single sheet of paper
• Eye wipes for tear gas or pepper spray relief
• Gas mask
• Heat-proof gloves to allow the return of grenades, which are hot

What to Wear

You want to be comfortable, able to move freely, and blend in with the crowd. Don’t wear anything that allows you to stand out or be easily identifiable. Some recommendations are to wear all black or gray. Your wardrobe:

Dark pants, fully comfortable, ideally with useable pockets. No shorts; you want as little skin as possible exposed to tear gas or pepper spray.

Dark long-sleeved shirt with no brand or logo. If you have tattoos, make sure the shirt covers them. Consider medical tape over any tattoos or scars not covered by clothing.

Dark hoodie or jacket as weather dictates, with secure pockets, no logo.

Shoes comfortable for standing and walking for long periods. Toe protection from work boots or hiking boots is a plus. Consider a thin sock under your regular socks to minimize friction if you’re not used to walking distance in these shoes.

A plain hat, no logo or pattern, to protect you from sun or other weather, and to cover your hair, making you harder to identify.

Safety

Before you leave for a protest, you and your buddy need a plan to establish:

• What time will we arrive, and when do we need to leave home?
• How will we get there? If we drive, where will we park? It should be well away from the event. Ideally, you walk or bicycle there, since license plate readers help cops know what car was where and when.
• What time will we leave? When should we arrive home?
• What events or situations would cause us to leave early?
• How will we change our plan if there’s a change in situation?
• Do we agree that if one leaves, both leave, even if we disagree?
• If we are separated, where will we meet?
• If the situation seems dangerous, how will we leave? Know local streets.

Share this plan with your written-on-your-arm contact before you go. If needed, they can send you help or look for you.

During the protest, practice awareness of what’s around you. Red flags include:

• Do there seem to be people who are not prepared and came last minute? Are they talkative with strangers? They may be from “the other side,” there to incite violence, identify protesters, etc. Or they may be plainclothes police officers.
• Is the protest skewing toward destrictuon of property or violence against people? That’s a sign to leave immediately.
• Is anyone protesting also carrying a gun or other weapon? Leave immediately.
• Do many protesters seem drunk or under the influence of drugs? Such individuals may show poor judgment if confronted by police, and you don’t want to be close.
• Does your intuition or gut feeling say something’s not right? Time to leave.

If the police use physical means to disperse crowds:

• If you can, learn what means the police department has available.
• Leave the area when it begins.
• Keep away from police horses and dogs, both trained to be aggressive and able to injure you.
• Consider padded protection or civilian-grade Kevlar vests. Rubber bullets can cause injury, including breaking bones. Shatterproof goggles will help but cannot necessarily stop a rubber bullet.
• Consider putting on a helmet if they’re firing rubber bullets.
• If police are using pepper spray or tear gas, put on a gas mask. Move upwind if possible. Do not touch eyes, nose, or mouth. Change your face mask if it seems contaminated.
• Be ready to help the injured. Carry extra first aid supplies, especially water to wash eyes. Some people say Johnson’s Baby Wash helps clean eyes.
• Stay calm. People panicked into running can injure others.
• Keep an eye on anyone nearby who’s elderly, disabled, or may require assistance to be safe.

If you are arrested:

• Stay calm. Do not resist arrest. Ask on what charges you are being arrested. Memorize the name of the arresting officer.
• If you can, tell witnesses your name before the police take you away.
• Control your words and body. Tell the police your name and show ID if asked. If you are injured, demand medical attention. Tell the police you are exercising your right to remain silent, and that you want to speak to an attorney. Say nothing more.

After the protest:

• Know more than one route home or back to your bicycle or vehicle.
• Be aware police may block roads or stop public transportation near the protest site.
• Once you’re home, let your emergency contacts know you are safe.
• If police used tear gas or pepper spray, wipe off anything that cannot be washed: leather shoes, goggles, and glasses. Launder all clothing and wash or wipe down backpack. Take a shower and wash your hair.

Brimstone Bread

 

 

 

This is a slight modification of recipes widely available online. I did not create the recipe.

BRIMSTONE BREAD
Takes 5-6 Hours

For the Red Bread

2 1/4 cups warm water (105-115° F/40-46° C)
1 tablespoon active dry yeast
2 tablespoons sugar
2 one-ounce bottles of red food coloring
2 tablespoons vegetable or canola oil
5 cups flour, ideally bread flour
1 tablespoon salt
Optional: another one-ounce bottle of red food coloring
Recommended: disposable food preparation gloves, metal utensils, parchment paper

Pour warm water into a large bowl. Add yeast and sugar. Mix thoroughly and set aside for five to ten minutes, until the mixture creates bubbles that form a layer of foam.

Take care opening and pouring food coloring, which stains, into the foam mixture. Add oil and stir to evenly distribute food coloring. Add flour and salt gradually, stirring to mix. You should have a red or deep red dough. If it’s lighter, work more food coloring into the mixture.

When it’s fully blended, the dough should come together in a single clump. It should be somewhat stretchy and not very sticky. Either in the bowl or on a protected work surface (a clean cookie sheet will keep counters from staining) lightly dusted with flour, put on your food preparation gloves then knead the dough for three minutes until it is smooth and uniformly soft.

Shape the dough into a ball. Lightly flour the inside of your bowl (no need to wash it in between) and put the dough in the bowl. Cover with a dish towel (which can stain if it touches the dough) and let the dough rest for ten minutes.

After the ten minutes has passed, turn the dough out and knead for another two to three minutes, then form a ball, return to bowl, cover it, and let it rest for ten minutes. Do this a total of five times.

When the dough has rested for the fifth and final ten minutes, divide it into twelve balls the same size. Cover two cookie sheets with parchment paper. Put the balls on the cookie sheets, where the dough will rise, separating them as far as possible.

If you have a warm spot in the kitchen, allow the dough to rise there. If you do not have a warm spot, turn on your oven and put your hand inside it. When you detect heat, turn the oven off and put the cookie sheets in the oven to allow the dough to rise there.

Caution: If the rising dough balls join with others, separating them will release the trapped air bubbles causing the rising. You’ll need to start over with the rising. Covering the dough with plastic wrap (a common bread-baking practice) can result in the two sticking, and releasing it also undoes the rising.

Leave the dough undisturbed for three to four hours. It will approximately double in size.

Wash your bowl and utensils for reuse. Near the end of the rising, prepare the topping.

For the Brimstone Topping

1 cup warm water (105-115° F/40-46° C)
2 tablespoons active dry yeast
2 tablespoons sugar
1 one-ounce bottle of black food coloring
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 1/2 cups rice flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
Optional: additional red food coloring

Pour warm water into a large bowl. Add yeast and sugar. Mix thoroughly and set aside for five to ten minutes, until the mixture creates bubbles that form a layer of foam.

Take care opening and pouring food coloring, which stains, into the foam mixture. Add oil and stir to evenly distribute food coloring. It should be intensely black. At this point you can add more red food coloring to darken the mixture.

Add rice flour and salt gradually, stirring to mix. You should have a fully black dough which is somewhat gritty, fairly sticky, thick while being liquid enough to ooze from your spoon. Cover with a dish towel (which can stain if it touches the dough) and let the dough rest for fifteen minutes.

Put on your food preparation gloves and take a handful of the black topping. Smear and pat it over the top and sides of your risen red dough balls. Repeat until they’re all covered. Use all of the black topping, adding more to ensure the coating is not thin on any of them.

Pre-heat the oven to 450° F/230° C.

Let the coated dough balls stand, uncovered, for fifteen minutes to allow the topping to fully stick to the red dough.

After the fifteen minutes, bake your Brimstone Bread on the center rack of the oven for 15 to 20minutes. If it won’t hold two cookie sheets, bake one, then the other.

Because rice flour is not as elastic as bread flour, the black topping will become crisp and will crack as the bread bakes.

Cool on cookie sheets until you can easily touch the bread. Finish cooling on wire racks, or eat warm. These make excellent sandwich or hamburger buns and are tasty warm with butter.

An Uplifting Message

Before COVID, I went on a cruise that appealed mainly to adults over 50. Based on observation, I’d venture a guess that at least half the passengers were over 60, and if you don’t think that makes a difference, you’re either young or need new corrective lenses.

What I noticed about the women was interesting in many ways. This self-selected group of older adults with money for a cruise included some who were able and willing to dress in a way that flatters whatever kind of body they had—but it also included quite a few of the ones who have given up and tuck their printed knit tops into their elastic-waist pants.

But both groups often sported the worst bras you can imagine. It seemed especially likely if they were overweight by as little as one dress size.

There is no reason for a woman who can pay for a stateroom with a balcony for a seven-day cruise to make do with a bra from Penney’s or Kohl’s that feels okay and supports her in a fashion that is decidedly not okay. Whether your small breasts have become droopy or you’re large and sagging, the mass of your breast should be lifted away from the body, not folded over on it, and aligned somewhere near the vertical middle of your rib cage. But on this cruise, it seemed breasts nearing the waist was the norm.

I’ve always been somewhat busty and once I got kind of fat, finding a bra that actually fit seemed impossible. Only in recent years have I determined that not only can a woman whose lingerie drawers include 42DDDs (several styles of Wacoal, the best I could do at the time) can indeed find bras that actually fit and support, but bras that are fully comfortable.

You just can’t do it at a the local department store, including when they have a “fitting event.” The fitter they’ve hired for a few days can’t fit you in the bras department stores carry.

Get thee to a dedicated lingerie store with a trained fitter. In another city if that’s what it takes.

Yes, if you’re large, that bra is going to have an underwire. It does not add any discomfort at all. If it does feel uncomfortable, that means the bra does not fit. Don’t let any sales person tell you differently.

Yes, even if you’re obese there are bras that will hold up the goods more than adequately, without making massive dents in your shoulders because the straps are holding most of the weight.

Yes, there’s a bra out there—more likely, several bras—that will touch your sternum like they did when you were fourteen and wore a B cup. No more dropping fish crackers and finding a small school of them when you get ready for bed, as I have. Seriously, I once found three grapes in that gap. Three!

Yes, there’s a bra for you whose straps stay up. All the time, no matter how you twist and turn. Yet they don’t dig into your shoulders. Miracles can happen, ladies.

Yes, there are bras for chubby and big women, pretty ones in prints and in great colors, with lace and bows, matching panties available—and no, they don’t have four hooks up the back, much less six like the last bra I bought at Macy’s, using a professional fitter who probably did the best she could with their stock.

Yes, you’ll pay plenty for a good bra, from at least $50 to a typical $75, and it’s possible to spend lots more. If you hand-wash and line-dry it, you’ll get years of wear. I machine-wash mine in a lingerie bag, because I’m a special kind of lazy, and I still get at least two or three years from a good bra.

Yes, a quality bra takes engineering of a particular type, but there are many manufacturers who’ve got it down and want to sell you a bra that looks great on you, feels fine, and makes you look great.

What, there’s no quality lingerie store where you live? That’s increasingly common. The internet is at your service. Look for websites selling Elomi (my go-to brand), Fantasie, Freya, Goddess, and more. Seek one with free returns if you do an exchange for another size, or just consider that part of the cost of getting a terrific bra. Seek sites with a human able to chat live-time about fit, increasing the odds of getting the right fit first try.

A properly-fitting Elomi bra with side support (the Cate is one of many I like) literally lifts your breasts four inches higher than anything Kohl’s, Penney’s, Dillard’s, or Macy’s sells, and is more comfortable.

I swear, it’s worth it.