I Dunno If They Fags Or What
Shake A Nigga Down
& Grabbing His Nuts
>>NWA
I heard the NYPD van before I saw it. I was walking home from the 6 train, same way I always do, when the *Beep BEEP* warning of a commercial vehicle backing up rang down Watson Ave. I turned my head back & noticed the police van making a 3-point reverse U turn a block behind me.
“Here we go.” I thought.
But what the hell? I did not care. I knew who they thought I was — and I knew damn well they had the wrong guy.
Searching My Pants
Looking Fo’ The Product
Thinkin Every White Boy
Is Buying Narcotics!
At the moment I live in the Soundview neighborhood of Bronx, NY. Watson Avenue, the street I walk home on every day from the 6 train, is described by Wikipedia as “One of the most violent open-air drug markets in America.”
That ain’t true. Not that my neighborhood is free of violent crime. Here’s the most recent stats available:
Location Precinct 43
Week start date September 7, 2009
Week end date September 13, 2009
Precinct Precinct 43
Murders 0
Rapes 0
Robberies 6
Felony assaults 12
Burglaries 8
Grand larcenies 12
Grand larcenies (auto) 6
There are more crimes some weeks, less others. After 3 weeks in the neighborhood, my personal experience is that if I mind my own business I’ll make it home safely from the 6 train — and I (predictably) come home very late some nights.
Not to say that I’ll never get jumped for my loot. That is life in the big city. On the rare occasions that I have enough money to rob, I leave all but the bare minimum at home. No big deal.
But the incontestable fact of the matter is that Watson Avenue in Soundview, Bronx in not an “open air drug market.” Sorry Wikipedia — I would know.
First off: I know damn well what an Open Air Drug Market is. Think of the number of years I spent on Grateful Dead & Phish tour. Right? That was where we jollily cruised the parking lots before the concerts with our pockets loaded with Whatevers, looking for that certain kind of someone — we called ‘em Custiez — who wanted to buy.
Nuff said on that score. The point here is that I know exactly what a good Custie looks like — and up here in the Bronx, that’s me.
Maybe there is drug activity in the neighborhood. Sure wouldn’t surprise me. But — based on the solid fact that I have never been approached on the street (despite that I’ve occasionally wished I would be) — whatever business happens here clearly goes down behind closed doors.
Not an open air drug market, by definition.
That said: I do totally live in the ‘Hood. Gritty as fuck in these parts. Soundview has the highest concentration of public housing in New York City; I am surrounded by 20-story high housing Projects. I do get looked at twice sometimes. I am almost certainly the only white person in my neighborhood. But my interactions thus far with locals have been entirely positive. I have not been threatened, menaced or generally fucked with at any time in any way. By anyone.
Until the other afternoon — by four assholes from the NYPD.
The police van parked a half-block ahead of me, right in front of the bodega on Watson by the Bronxdale houses. I knew they were waiting for me, but when I walked by & the said “Hey You!” I just kept walking — on general principals. They said Hey You again. I thought about keeping on my way, but why bother? Like I said: they had the wrong guy.
The cop in the passenger seat asked me for ID. Forget about protesting, do as They say. No, it may not be legally proper for them to ask for your Papers while you innocently walk down the street. I might be a dumb country bumpkin from Vermont but I know better. This is the New York City Police Department. What difference do Laws make?
Oops, my bad. Turns out it is completely legal to stop and frisk — and they exercise that legal right 500,000+ times per year. Mind you 88% of the people they stop & frisk are innocent & let go on their way — like me.
But legal or no — that was fucking bullshit.
I handed the cop my ID. Before he even asked me a question the other 3 cops were out of the van. And without saying a word, they lifted up my shirt and groped their hands inside the waistline of my pants.
Like NWA said..
They asked me where I was coming from. Truth was I had been in Harlem, eating lunch at Manna’s Soul Food kitchen — the bomb. I told them so. Main point I kept trying to make was that — despite what my Vermont drivers license suggested — I live in the god damn neighborhood.
The one cop kept asking me Wadaya got wadaya got? I mean he asked me like 10 times. Kept saying nothing, nothing — totally true. I was just walking home. Totally true. He kept asking, again and again. Finally told him it didn’t matter how many times he asked me, the honest answer was gonna be the same.
Now. If I was back in Vermont — totally clean, going about my legal business — I would have raised fucking hell. But this is the NYPD. And when they fuck with you you can eat shit & fuck off — if you’re lucky.
Retarded thing was when — 10 minutes into the frisk — they asked me why I looked so nervous. After they lifted my shirt up & groped down my pants. Whatever.
I told them I was nervous because I was surrounded by cops getting “shook down” while I walked home.
That’s what we call it when cops search you back home.
When I said that they got strangely defensive, insisted they weren’t Shaking Me Down. Talking about it with a friend afterward, I realized that in New York City when a cop “shakes you down” it means they’re roughing you up for a Payoff.
Now. The cops weren’t doing that. I might add, albeit altogether slanderously, that they knew too well what a “shakedown” was. But whatever. My mistake.
Point is I was innocent — and they were assholes, who would never have been there if I had needed them.
I also know that my experience — however violating — is a too regular occurrence for people who live in neighborhoods like soundview. However: Since I live in this neighborhood myself due to my own economic disadvantage, I feel perfectly righteous about joining the long-harassed locals by saying:
Fuck the Police!
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