That's Not Us
A few weeks ago, I read an opinion piece about police militarization in the wake of the mass shooting in Uvalde, Texas, a community just larger than Jackson and the county seat, located along a river in the rural Texas Hill Country. Prior to this tragedy, Uvalde was better known for its youth soccer program and the slough residents preserved as a bird sanctuary and public park.
The op-ed, titled “Police Militarization Gave Us Uvalde,” appeared in The Atlantic, a publication I enjoy and also one with a progressive bent. I hesitated before sending the article to my partners at the Jackson Police Department, but I wanted their take. The issue for me had more to do with how policies from high above rarely play out on the ground the way they are envisioned.
In the wake of the Gulf War, with so many weapons, vests, bomb detonating equipment, and so forth, someone, somewhere, thought this equipment should be donated to police departments to ensure the safety of officers in harm’s way. But rarely did the training for the equipment match the availability of the weaponry. No real mention was made of what law enforcement leaders wanted or thought. I wanted to know.
I have worked with our local police department both as the person signing their budget requests, as mayor, and now as a partner in a mindfulness and resilience training program they have undertaken with Becoming Jackson Whole. Most important, I have interacted with them as a mom, a parking violator, and as the victim of a crime. I didn’t like the broad brush the author of The Atlantic article used, because I knew firsthand of the commitment these officers have to learning, to personal growth, to service.
As many people know, I grew up on a ranch in Shell, Wyoming, a part of my history that is also part of my identity and connection to place. I am proud of these connections, what it means in my bones to be a Westerner. Something in the article's assumptions reminded me of when I became aware that popular culture often valorized individualism and independence – even violence – and dressed it in boots and a hat. I resented the characterization of Western communities, ranches, and towns as stubbornly isolated, along with the stigma that cowboy hats and boots are the hallmarks of swagger.
I became aware that many people viewed me, a product of the American West, as less than—less educated; less just; less connected with the world. Across movies, ads, and interviews, I continue to see images that suggest this superficial categorization—bullies in cowboy hats or cops in riot gear—that are damaging oversimplifications.
So I sent The Atlantic clip and my concerns to our local police chief, Michelle Weber, and she discussed it with her department. I heard from my colleague Jeromie Traphagan, a Jackson Police Department patrol sergeant in response.
On July 4, I lead the [Jackson] parade with red/blue lights on and windows down. My only goal was to signal the procession...and [encourage] pedestrians to move out of the way; however, the cheers and applause I got were amazing. At first, I thought the crowd was just excited to see the color guard marching behind me, but I kept hearing, “Yay, Jackson Police,” and, “We back the Blue,” and other praise. I admit, I was a bit embarrassed, but mostly humbled.
Then in our July 5 sergeant meeting, a focal point was The Atlantic article suggesting that police have become mindless killers and scolding us for the tactics we teach in both physical and mental preparedness. It went so far as to say we have lost the ability to connect with our community, or have no intelligence to do so, and only see our fellow citizens as targets.
The article frustrated me and the other supervisors. We quickly began using comedic relief to deflate our frustration, but it didn’t make the article go away or give the millions of readers an alternative perspective.
Through our group conversation, we came to a consensus: That’s not us.
But an article can influence our community’s view of us if we do nothing to convince them otherwise. All those people cheering at the parade? That wasn’t just for me or my completing a goal. It was for being a police officer—and specifically, their police officer.
The article reminded us that the JPD strives to meet the needs of our community through partnerships with Becoming Jackson Whole and other organizations with the specific intent to be better officers and better people. These partnerships help us access trainings to be better thinkers, more people-oriented, and properly geared (mentally and physically) for the most horrible scenarios.
And with that, Jeromie thanked me (and Becoming Jackson Whole) for being a part of JPD's team, teaching them to mentally brush off the negative writers/people so they can focus on living and writing their own narrative on what policing is in Jackson.
I want to thank Jeromie, for giving me the words that I most want to share: “That’s not us.” How skillfully he threaded that needle, and then went back to being an excellent public servant and peace officer. He did not brood about, defend, or diminish the power he has to respond justly in the present. He did not litter his critical thinking with negative emotions and ruminations. I’m reminded, thanks to our local PD, that we are strongest when we’re less concerned what “they” think and are working instead on who WE want to be.
I bet a lot of young girls and boys on that parade route looked at Sergeant Traphagan and his fellow officers, and thought, “I want to be them when I grow up.” May we be so lucky.
Sergeant Jeromie Traphagen | Photo courtesy Town of Jackson
Sergeant Jeromie Traphagen, Jackson Police Department
Image courtesy Town of Jackson