Running Red Lights

There is a Subway just up the main road from our office and one day last summer I went there to get a sandwich for lunch. There is a traffic light almost immediately after turning left out of the Subway parking lot to head back towards the office. Sometimes I am a bit absent-minded and thinking about other things and I was most of the way through a red light when I realized what I was doing. Since the intersection was empty I proceeded on through instead of stopping in the middle of it.


Almost immediately I saw blue lights flashing behind me. My first thought was “Well that was really dumb of me. I hope I can just pay a fine and not have to go to court.” I pulled over and the officer came up. I handed him my license and told him I needed to find the registration.


As I rummaged around in the glove box, he asked me why I ran a red light. I told him I didn’t know, that I had just screwed up. He asked where I was going, what my job was, etc. After I found my registration, he looked at it and my license for a while. He handed them back to me and told me to be more careful. And that was it.


I had clearly violated the law and was expecting a ticket and a fine. And there was nothing.


This morning I read a story from an African-American professor who had not done anything wrong but was still detained because he “matched the description.” He spoke of his fear and how the incident left him rattled afterwards. His experience and mine bore little resemblance to each other. I was actually guilty and he wasn’t. But I was never frightened.


I know some police officers and I think the ones I know are good people. And I think I am a basically decent human being as well. But years ago I read some data about the differences in medical treatment of white children and African-American children with respect to pain control, etc. It was jarring and I began to examine myself. And one day in the office, I realized I had a white patient and a black patient with pretty much the same issue, and I had provided a more aggressive evaluation for the white child. I could rationalize why I did that. But there isn’t a good reason.


I hope that doesn’t make me a bad person. Both of the children were fine and the white child got more evaluation than was needed. But I think it does show that I am (was?) a biased person. Both mothers were worried about their children and I did more to allay the fears of one than the other. And only by knowing and admitting that about myself can I do anything to correct it.