“The suspect is described as a black male with a small afro, approximately 20 to 30 years of age, 6’ to 6’3” in height, wearing a black shirt and grey camouflage pants.” This is an excerpt from the very first email I received from VUPD, regarding a robbery of the Taco Bell inside the Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital. It was sent on June 29, 2014, before I had even entered my first year of college.
In the two years since then, I have received 19 emails from VUPD regarding crimes committed on or around campus in which the suspect’s race was described. Thirteen of the emails featured suspect descriptions similar to the one quoted above.
It is no secret that a significant portion of the population carries a stereotypical image of a criminal in their minds. Certain groups, black males being one in particular, are often stereotyped as more likely to engage in criminal behavior. Those who would perpetuate this stereotype would argue that there is nothing problematic in this. Certain specious arguments, cloaked in academic language, can seem especially convincing. For example, a common argument is that such stereotypes are justified because they are heuristics naturally adopted by the mind to provide quick ways to assess risk and danger.
The stereotypes we cultivate in our minds inevitably translate to differences in how we treat the people who fall under them.
Considering the current political climate of our country, it is evident that many people subscribe to this belief. Stereotypes grow silently within all of us. They are part of our fundamental psychological process for coping with the immense load of information thrust upon us by the everyday world. What is problematic is that many people, myself included, have allowed them to grow unacknowledged with the confidence that the stereotypes seemingly contained in our minds will not affect how we treat people in the outside world. The question then arises: What does it matter if we are inclined to “think” that most criminals are black, as long as in reality we treat black people the same as we would people of any other race? But it does matter. The truth is that the stereotypes we carry in our minds do affect the way we treat people.
Of all things, it required the theft of my bicycle for me to truly internalize this seemingly simple statement.
My bike was stolen midway through my first year. Almost a full year after I reported my bicycle missing from where I had last locked it outside of Memorial House, I found it again. U-locked to the bike stand outside of Rand dining hall, it was unmistakable. The same solid black frame broken only by a yellow and white streak across the top tube. The same incredible lightness that allowed me to lift it with one arm. This had to be my bike, and it was. As verified by the VUPD officer I called to the scene, the serial number matched with the one I had registered.
As the officer explained to me how I would have to pay for my own locksmith, a young Caucasian male of non-imposing stature gingerly approached us. Apparently, he had been the one using my bike for the past year. After the officer calmly explained to him that he was in possession of a stolen bike, he became eager to disassociate himself, claiming at one time that his friend gave it to him and at another that he had just found it.
I realized that I had expected, if I was ever to encounter my bike thief, a tall, black man in his 20s, probably from “inner city” Nashville, high school graduate at best and definitely not a Vanderbilt student.
I did not even realize what I was expecting until I encountered what I was definitely not expecting. I did not expect a short, white boy. Especially not someone I would consider to be a peer, for he was also an undergraduate at Vanderbilt at the time. I realized that I had expected, if I was ever to encounter my bike thief, a tall, black man in his 20s, probably from “inner city” Nashville, high school graduate at best and definitely not a Vanderbilt student. This was the image I had associated with the theft of my bike. This was the stereotype I was unconsciously carrying.
The suspected bike thief proceeded to make conversation with the officer. After he said he was in engineering, the police officer laughed that he had also studied engineering in college, but the math didn’t suit him and he became a police officer instead. This started a friendly conversation revolving around college experiences. He attempted to draw me in as well, naming possible mutual friends he thought we might have, but I was too baffled by his audacity and the officer’s willingness to establish good terms with the suspect. After they had finished talking, the officer turned to me and asked if I wanted to press charges. I said no. I was just happy to have my bike back.
I still wonder if my response would have been any different if the suspect had matched that image in my mind. I had thought about this person’s future and how a misdemeanor would affect his job prospects. I thought about what I would really gain from pressing charges.
Difficult as it is to admit guilt, I do not believe that my considerations would have been the same if it were the aforementioned tall, lower-class black man in the suspect’s place. Likewise, I do not believe that the police officer would have treated someone suspected of stealing an item worth several hundreds of dollars (as my bike was) with the same friendliness if he were not a well-spoken, white male. I am forced to consider whether my toleration — our society’s toleration — of persisting stereotypes can lead to a black man being treated differently, and often more harshly, for committing the same crime as his white counterpart.
What we already know about racial profiling and recent instances of tragic outcomes in encounters between police officers and unarmed black men seems to agree with these statements. The perpetuation of stereotypes leads to injustice and inequality in outcomes before the law. The stereotypes we cultivate in our minds inevitably translate to differences in how we treat the people who fall under them.
The purpose of this article is not to lay blame on college students or police officers, but to highlight the importance of individual responsibility. We all have a responsibility to acknowledge the stereotypes we carry, because only by recognizing how these stereotypes affect us will we be able to change our behavior. My experience has prompted me to acknowledge the stereotypes I carry and to recognize and change my behavior to make my actions freer from prejudice. Now I’m asking you to do the same. It is up to each of us to promote the fair and just society we desire to inhabit.
Krishna Ammisetty is a junior in the College of Arts and Science. He can be reached at [email protected].