Dear Black or Brown Officer,

When I was a little boy growing up in South Peoria, I spent a lot of my time dreaming and reading comic books. Being a thin and stout-statured young man, I was no stranger to being bullied or picked on. I guess that is what made me want to become someone who could stop the bullies and protect people from them. The comics drew me to the hero Superman. He was powerful, fast and could fly. With all his strength, he stopped the bad guys and bullies using just enough strength for the job. Never overdoing it. He did it all while being adored by everyone. That’s how I wanted to be.

When I got older, that passion led me to police work. This is where I felt that I could be the closest to that Superman I read about. Literally the day after my 21st birthday, I applied to become a Peoria Police Officer. I can remember the day I got the confirmation email about my application, the study guide to the test in the mail, passing it all and getting sworn in as a Peoria Police Officer. It was one of the most joyous moments in my life. I was indeed going to become a Superman. Just not the way I thought.

What I didn’t think about in my naivety as a child reading comics and at 21, was Superman didn’t have the complexion roadblock. Though he was an alien from a different planet, it was easier for him to be beloved. I could imagine the creators having to write that story, to have him come in Black. Oh, how I wished I thought of it sooner. I would have been better prepared.

When an African American male or female decides to put on the uniform, you are indeed on an island. No matter what some police departments tell you, your skin color is a topic up for discussion, debate, to be tested, or reviewed. Some will always look at your color first, even as you share the uniform. From being the de facto spokesman or woman for everything and anyone Black, to hear the crass “jokes” being shared that make your brown skin crawl and to have your “loyalty” tested by some when in a situation. In some departments, you will feel alone amongst peers. Like there may be nothing much in common, other than that uniform. That while in it, you have to put on a mask, dance and perform; or be weeded out. It is and will be a constant source of stress. I know this from my own personal experience and from many Black officers’ private conversations to this day.

With the constant internal struggle from some of our peers in blue, African American officers have another battle to fight. The one from within ourselves. When I went to patrol on the same South Peoria streets I grew up on, I was not met with that Superman fanfare. Though I had a different method in policing I wanted to use, the systemic police issues that started since the creation of policing –– or slave catching –– justified its stigma. Policing was created from a bad seed that led to “strange fruit” being bared. So, when an African American puts on the uniform, we are looked at, reasonably, as an enemy by some of our own. To be asked why we would put on the uniform, be labeled an “Uncle Tom”, or be shunned by some you’ve known your whole life. An African American officer in some cases, will have to juggle with being tasked to side with your own or be cast out of the fold. You will be expected to be that brown officer in a sea of white –– to bail out a fellow brother or sister no matter the incident. Whether they be wrong or right. You are different and must step in. In Black, you will juggle this as long as you wear the uniform. Your career choice while wrapped in that brown skin, will be the reason you are on this island.

Today, policing is starting that slow turn toward reform. That does not negate all the atrocities that people in blue inflicted on Black and Brown people. We are still a long way away. Being an African American officer comes with a cost tied to that. To make the decision to disrupt this system from the inside is a monumental task. We can’t simply put on the cape as others do, flying around saving lives. At the moment, our task is bigger than that. We have to fight to actively create the culture that makes it all done equitably. And be unafraid to call out any signs of that bad fruit rising again.

When will we know that the job is complete as an African American officer in our own departments? When we search deep within ourselves and answer this question honestly: Do I feel comfortable with 100% of the officers in my department handling a critical incident with my Black or Brown child, friend or loved one? If the answer is no, then there are still tasks at hand to be done, as you wrap that duty belt tightly around your Black or Brown frame.

Demario Boone is director of school safety for Peoria Public Schools.