Sometimes I go to San Francisco, and I’d like to thank The Guardian over in the UK for the heads up:
Fourteen San Francisco officers and department employees are alleged to have sent or received the text messages in 2011 and 2012. The messages included slurs against black people, Mexicans, Filipinos and gay people, police said. The phrase “white power” was used repeatedly.
One read: “All niggers must fucking hang.” Another said: “Cross burning lowers blood pressure! I did the test myself!”
The scandal reached the highest echelons of the force, with Suhr recommending the removal of a captain, a sergeant and six officers. The longest-serving officer had been on the force for 23 years. Suhr called it “particularly disheartening” that such individuals were involved…
In one exchange, Furminger asked an unnamed officer if he should be worried that the husband of his wife’s friend, who was black, had visited his home, according to court filings.
“Get ur pocket gun. Keep it available in case the monkey returns to his roots. Its [sic] not against the law to put an animal down,” the officer advised.
Furminger replied: “Well said!”
“You may have to kill the half-breeds too,” the unnamed officer responded. “Don’t worry. Their [sic] an abomination of nature anyway.”
This is obviously stressful to think about, but it’s not the kind of thing you can talk about with just anybody. It’s all about keeping the normals comfortable. Laura Marshall explains what it’s like dealing with them after you harsh their buzz by getting raped:
This is the most insidious sensation and the most haunting, as it will call every relationship you have into question. You will try to convince yourself it’s not true, that only a small evil subset of the human population would ever do something so vicious. But your mail carrier, your boss, your grandmother — no one will look the same. Even your own reflection will force you to consider what glitch could turn your brain into harsh gray lines of static. This is what the people around me didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to see. You don’t have to talk about it. Please don’t tell me about it. To have lived through interpersonal violence is to have seen a glimpse of what the end of the world will look like and then asked to describe it, and in so doing, you must try to shield those you love from the reality of it by saying it’s not so bad, we’re all going to be OK, ushering them away from the edge, all the while looking over your shoulder to make sure you aren’t being followed.