The Cop: Meeting Lieutenant Reeves

I began chapter 3 in The Other Side of the River. The chapter opens depicting the quaint and even romantic town of St. Joseph. I found myself walking the streets as Kolowitz describes them, and I was remarkably comfortable when I was figuratively walking those streets.

            The nature of the book, race relations, however unsettled my comfort on those streets. I wondered if everyone found great comfort and even a teenage romanticism while walking the streets. Is this an inclusive community that welcomes all races, classes, and ages? Or is these streets, and those like them around the country, exclusive for middle-aged, middle-class, dominant race folks? I do not have an answer to my question, but the book is making me ask questions about what makes me comfortable and not necessarily others the same.

            The topic of the chapter is Kolowitz’s initial conversation with Reeves,  the St. Joseph Police Lieutenant. I am not sure how Reeve’s will unfold, but at first glance I appreciate him. He is generally collaborative, not only with his local citizens, but with the people of Benton Harbor. He is sensitive to the community(ies) tensions, and he engages cautiously yet diligently racialized claims.

            Kolowitz and Reeves jump quickly to discuss the McGinnis death, beginning with the discovery of the body. I appreciated Reeves statement as recorded by Kolowitz, “Reeves wanted the case solved swiftly to prove to Benton Harbor that a white cop would take the death of a black teenager as seriously as he would one of his own….” (24). I appreciate the forthrightness and sensitivity that Reeves practices in his revelation of this (potentially?) criminal scene.

Confession           

I need to admit that I am a recovering racist. I have words and images from junior high and high school that passed through my mouth during those years that I neither celebrate nor care to remember. College-aged friends informed me of my racism, both implicit and explicit, and since early college, I have been diligent in reversing these assumptions and becoming a Kingdom-minded person, who recognizes differences as moments to celebrate and not denigrate.

I do not believe that my parents taught me to be racist, nor did my friends. I simply became racist by nature of living in a societal system that too often lives by racist structures. Over time, this subtle yet destructive persona develops, and sooner or later we must take responsibility for our racist thoughts and practice even if we have no idea how it developed. This confession is a realization that most of us are recovering racists, some still simply racist. It is my hope that my life in Christ is an ongoing reversal of racism and an unfolding practice of love, grace, and Kingdom-hope. I think reading Kolowitz is part of this discipleship journey.