The African American

My father, an African American, graduated from high school, went to college, attained a degree and entered into the American work force. He started off as a pressman for the a company named Quebecor printing People and Time magazines, working late and long hours for mediocre means. He would come home dressed in ink, and smelling like paper. I rarely saw my father in my younger years. He understood that in order to get ahead and survive in society, as a person of african decent, you have to work just as hard and even harder than the white counterpart. He moved up in positions as the years went on. Then he was faced with an opportunity, an opportunity to advance in society, make more money, and acquire a more flexible schedule that would allow him more time at home. My father applied, and got the job. Now he works for the federal government, earns a six figure salary, and recently purchased a 2009 BMW 750Li sedan and his only outstanding debt is the mortgage on the house, which is good debt. All this being said, my father is living the American dream, a nuclear family, nice house, good job, nice cars, and even a boat. Considering the situation, one can imagine my lack of befuddlement when I hear that my father was racially profiled. He was driving while black. He and my mother were driving from Dallas, Texas to New Orleans, Louisiana in order to bring me my car. My mom had taken the lead in my car while my father followed in his car. They were both going the same speed, holding the flow of the traffic. A police officer proceeds to stop my father, walks to the car suspiciously, and asks my father a series of questions while searching his car with his eyes then says, “ you were following that car too closely, I’m going to let you off with a warning this time.”

Racial profiling is defined by dictionary.com as the “consideration of race when developing a profile of suspected criminals; by extension, a form of racism involving police focus on people of...