Hate.

HATE.  I hate the word.  I’ve seen it so many times in the weeks since the officer involved shooting in Ferguson, MO.  And most of the time it was directed at officers.  Or those who were defending officers.

I’ve always thought that you could passively love a person, a thing, a memory – but you have to actively HATE.  You have to plead your hate case, get people on your side and spread the hate far and wide.  For what?  Hating for the sake of hate?

Well, I guess I’ll get on the hate bandwagon and tell you a few things that I hate…

I hate that our officers EXPECT to be shot.  I hate that is why their standard issue uniform includes a bullet-proof vest, a gun and ammunition.  I hate that the vest can slow down a bullet, but is worthless against a knife.  I hate that every time something ends badly, everyone is an expert in police tactics.  I hate that our society doesn’t hold individuals accountable for their own actions.  I hate that drug use is a defense.

I hate that our officers live in a hyper-vigilant state.  ALWAYS.  I hate that there’s no such thing as “off-duty”.  I hate that they are required to assess a situation and act in fractions of seconds – only to be second-guessed by everyone.  I hate the never ending questions of “why didn’t he just shoot him in the leg?”, “he should’ve punched him, tased him, etc.”  But when they do punch him, tase him, etc. – the question still turns to excessive force.  I hate that every time an officer defends him/herself – they are made out to be aggressive bullies.  I hate aggressive bullies.

I hate that the life expectancy of an officer is mid-fifties – that is, if they aren’t killed in the line of duty before then.  I hate that they age quicker, burn out faster and die younger than members of most other professions.  I hate that officers are afraid to ask for help – out of concern of being labeled weak.  Or just being labeled, at all.  And knowing that if that officer is ever involved in anything – that record will be made public.  I hate that society believes in police-issued divorces.  I hate that officers see so much darkness, they sometimes forget there’s light.  I hate that an officer’s suicide is not considered job-related.  I hate that heart attacks are.

I hate that people complain about racism, stereotyping, etc. of groups of people, yet will lump anyone with a badge into the same pile of hate.  Are there bad cops?  Sure.  But a very limited few.  And when a  cop does go bad – that thin blue line is the FIRST one to push them away from the pack.  I hate that, too.

I hate that when an officer-involved anything gets reported on TV, the police wife fields multiple phone calls from family/friends asking if her officer is okay.  Even if the incident happened in a different jurisdiction.  I hate that we have to discuss with our officers what we expect from them if the media shows up.  I hate that the media reports how incredibly sad it is when an officer is killed, yet will top the newscast when it looks like they found one being an aggressive bully.  Even if they don’t have all the facts.  Or any of the facts.  I hate that they get most of the story wrong.  #Ihatehashtags.

I hate that citizens demand officers be cited for speeding and parking violations, then demand answers on why it took so long for an officer to respond to THEIR crisis. I hate that they will be blasted later for not handling it the way the citizen wanted it handled.  I hate that our officers are expected to be kind, yet tactical; efficient, yet thoughtful; command present, yet not militaristic.  I hate that they’re expected to be family counselors, accident investigators, burglar catchers, baby finders, old person locaters, drug house eliminators, sex offender counters, dead-body finders, homicide investigators, things-that-go-bump-in-the-night locators and dark-side seers – but not to be affected by ANY of it.

I hate that our officers get heckled wherever they go – especially if they stop to grab lunch during a regularly scheduled 10-12 hour shift.  And when they do grab lunch, it’s either someplace where the food is already made and wrapped. Or where they can see the person make it for fear that someone might do something to it.  I hate that most of the time, they don’t even eat, at all. 

I hate that people say to their children, “That cop is going to take you away”.  I hate the clown in every room that says, “Don’t arrest me, bro!”  I hate that anyone anywhere thinks it’s funny.  I hate even more that they think it’s original.  I hate the phrase Y.O.L.O.

I hate that politicians feel the need to get involved in situations.  I hate that chiefs are afraid to investigate their own officers’ shootings. I hate that city councils will rage against their officers – then try to convince people at election time that they support law enforcement.  I hate that those same politicians paint a picture of officers screwing the pension system.  And insist that officers are paid too much – while taking their own political paychecks and drawing from the same retirement system…while not wearing a single item with Kevlar in it.  Even after serving only one 4 year term.  I hate that cities/states/municipalities see officer deaths as a cost of doing business.  I hate that they see badges, not faces of those who protect them.  I hate that they balance their budgets on the backs of first responders.

I hate that every 50-something hours a police officer is killed.  I hate when any officer is killed – someone somewhere always says, “Well, they signed up for it.”  I hate that we have to decide who gets to come get us if something happens to our officer.  I hate the panic every time we see that person. I hate that my police widow friends have had to go up against state legislators.  I hate that bills and laws have been named after their officers.  I hate the fact that police widows exist.  I hate that I know so many.  I hate that we all know deep down inside that someday they may come for us.

I hate that police spouses sleep alone most of the time.  I hate that they worry about impending births of their children at home alone – especially when they can only afford one car on his salary.  And he’s got that car on the other side of town for his graveyard shift.  I hate that sometimes they feel “married single”, but wouldn’t do it any other way. I hate that they sleep with their cell phones so they don’t miss a call from him – just in case something happened.  I hate that they know not to touch the uniform that came home in a black trash bag.

I hate that our kids go from thinking that their daddy officers are super heroes to thinking they’re a liability when it comes to dating – nobody wants to date the cop’s daughter, right?  I hate that police families celebrate Christmas every day EXCEPT for December 25th.  I hate that birthday parties are typically missed.  I hate that wedding anniversaries are normally spent on a ride-along with the officer with a romantic dinner off the roll-a-grille at the 24-hour convenience store with the cleanest bathroom.  I hate that our “weekends” no longer include concerts, festivals or anywhere that large groups of people gather.  I hate that Tuesdays are Fridays and Thursdays are Mondays – or multiple versions of complicated weeks. 

I hate that when a “bad guy” gets killed – we’re not allowed to talk about what happened moments before, or even look at their rap sheet/track record. I hate that if an officer is involved, their personnel file is pulled within the hour by the media.  I hate that their crucifixion starts immediately.  I hate that officers are the only ones not innocent until proven guilty.

I hate that police families are not treated to a “speedy trial” when one of their own is killed in the line of duty, but the suspect can drag it on as long as he’d like.  And I hate that when it finally does go to trial, the family has to hear and see all of the gruesome details of their officer’s death and the defense can decimate the surviving officers as he paints an ugly picture of the suspect being a victim.  I hate that cop killers’ defense is they were spanked as children.

I hate that cop killers are heroes in prison.  Regular royalty amongst their prison peers.  I hate that we live in a society where the death penalty exists.  I hate that I'm glad that it does.  I hate waiting for juries to return verdicts.

I hate that when something like Ferguson, MO happens – people automatically assume it was race-related, when in actuality – that officer just wanted to go home that night.  I hate that officers put their badges on at the beginning of a shift – realizing that they might not live long enough to take them off. 

Really…I just hate HATE.  And if “cop” were a skin color – imagine THAT racism. I hate that officers and their families already know that hate-ism.