關於 the right one needs no attempt ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

My sister, Michelle-Ann Iking's 3% chance of conceiving naturally was a success! Here's her story:

(My apologies as I've been overwhelmed with personal matters. I've only managed to get to my desk. So finally got around posting this).

This is the story behind my sister's pregnancy struggle and how she shared her journey over her Facebook page.

Because some may have not caught her LIVE session chat with me (https://www.facebook.com/daphneiking/videos/687743128744960/) , or read her lengthy post (as it's a private page);
she's allowed me to copy and paste it over my wall, in case you need to know more about her thought process on how AND why she focused on the 3% success probability. Read on.

-------------------------------------------

Posted 10th May 2020.
FB Credit: Michelle-Ann Iking

A week ago today I celebrated becoming a mother to our second, long awaited child.

Please forgive this mother's LONG (self-indulgent) post, journalling what this significant milestone has meant for her personally, for her own fallible memory's sake as well as maybe to share one day with her son.

If all you were wondering was whether I had delivered and if mum and bub are OK, please be assured the whole KkLM family are thriving tremendously, and continue scrolling right along your Newsfeed 😁.

OUR 3% MIRACLE

All babies are miracles... and none more so than our precious Kiaen Aaryan (pronounced KEY-n AR-yen), whose name derives from Sanskrit origins meaning:

Grace of God
Spiritual
Kind
Benevolent

...words espousing the gratitude Kishore and I feel for Kiaen's arrival as our "3% miracle".

He was conceived, naturally, after 3 years of Kishore and I hoping, praying and 'endeavoring'... and only couples for whom the objective switches from pure recreation to (elusive) procreation will understand how this is less fun than it sounds ...

3 years during which time we had consensus from 3 different doctors that we, particularly I (with my advancing age etc etc) had only a 3% chance of natural conception and that our best hope for a sibling for our firstborn, Lara Anoushka, was via IVF.

Lara herself was an 'intervention baby', being one of the 20% of babies successfully conceived through the less intrusive IUI process, after a year and a half of trying naturally and already being told then my age was a debilitating factor.

We had tried another round of IUI for her sibling in 2017 when Lara was a year old. And that time we fell into the ranks of the 80% of would-be parents for whom it would be an exercise in futility... who would go home, comfort each other as best they could, while individually masking their own personal disappointment... hoping for the best, 'the next time around'...

So the improbability ratio of 97% against natural conception of our second baby, as concurred by the combined opinion of 3 medical professionals, was a very real, very daunting figure for us to have to mentally deal with.

Deep, DEEP, down in my heart however, though I had many a day of doubt... I kept a core kernel of faith that somehow, I would again experience the privilege of pregnancy, and again, have a chance at childbirth.

And so, the optimist in me would tell myself, "Well, there have to be people who fall in the 3% bucket... why shouldn't WE be part of the 3%?"

Those who know me well, understand my belief in the Law of Attraction, the philosophy of focusing your mind only on what you want to attract, not on what you don't want, and so even as Kishore and I prepared to go into significant personal debt to attempt IVF in the 2nd half of 2019, I marshalled a last ditch effort to hone in on that 3% chance of natural conception... through research coming across fertility supplements that I ordered from the US and sent to a friend in Singapore to redirect to me because the supplier would not deliver to Malaysia.

I made us as a couple take the supplements in the 3 month 'priming period' in the lead up to the IVF procedure - preconditioning our bodies for optimum results, if you will.

At the same time, I had invested in a sophisticated fertility monitor, with probes and digital sensors for daily tracking of saliva and other unmentionable fluid samples, designed to pinpoint with chemical accuracy my state of fertility on any given day.

(UPDATE: For those interested - I obtained the supplements and Ovacue Fertility Monitor from https://www.fairhavenhealth.com/. Though I had my supplies delivered to a friend in Singapore, and redirected to me here since the US site does not deliver to Malaysia, there are local distributors for these products, you will just have to research the trustworthiness of the vendors yourself...)

I had set an intention - in the 3 months of pre-IVF priming, I would consume what seemed like a pharmacy's worth of supplements, and track fertility religiously... in hopes that somehow, within the 3 month priming period, we would conceive naturally and potentially save ourselves a down payment on a new property... and this was just a projection on financial costs of IVF, not even considering the physical, emotional and mental toll it involves, with no guarantee of a baby at the end of it all...

It was a continuation of an intention embedded even with my first pregnancy, where all the big ticket baby items were consciously purchased for use by a future sibling, in gender neutral colours, in hopes that sibling would be a brother "for a balanced pair", though of course any healthy child would be a welcome blessing.

It was a very conscious determination to always skew my thoughts in service of what the end objective was. For example, when 3+year old Lara would innocently express impatience at not yet having a sibling, at one point suggesting that since we were "taking too long to give her a baby brother/sister", perhaps we should just "go buy a baby from a shop", instead of getting defensive or berating the baby that she herself was, we enlisted Lara's help to pray for her sibling... so in any place of worship, or sacred ground of any kind that we passed thereon, Lara would stop, close her eyes, bow her small head and place her tiny hands together in prayer, reciting earnestly, "Please God, please give me a baby brother or baby sister."

After months and months of watching Lara do this, in the constancy of her childlike chant, Kishore started feeling the pressure of possibly disappointing Lara if her prayer was not answered. Whereas for me, Lara's recitation of her simple wish became like a strengthening mantra, our collective intention imbued with greater power with each repetition, and the goal of a sibling kept very much in the forefront of our minds (hence our calling Lara our 'project manager' in this endeavour).

And somehow in the 2nd month of that 3 month period, a positive + sign appeared on one of the home pregnancy tests I had grown accustomed to taking - my version of the lottery tickets others keep buying in hopes of hitting the jackpot, with all the cyclical anticipation and more often than not, disappointment, that entails...

This time however I was not disappointed.

With God's Grace, (hence 'Kiaen', a variation of 'Kiaan' which means 'Grace of God'), my focus on our joining the ranks of the 3% had materialised.

It seems poetic then, that Kiaen chose to make his appearance on the 3rd May, ironically the same date that his paternal great-grandfather departed this world for the next... such that in the combined words of Kishore and his father Kai Vello Suppiah,

"The 1st generation Suppiah left on 3rd May and the 4th generation Suppiah arrived on 3rd May after 41yrs...
One leaves, another comes, the legacy lives on..."

***

KIAEN AARYAN SUPPIAH'S BIRTH STORY

On Sunday 3rd May, I was 40 weeks and 5 days pregnant.

The baby was, in my mind, very UN-fashionably late past his due date of 29th April, so as much as I had willed and 'manifested' the privilege of pregnancy, to say I was keen to be done with it all was an understatement.

In the weeks leading to up to my full term, I had experienced increasingly intense Braxton-Hicks 'practice contractions' - annoying for me for the discomfort involved, stressful for Kishore who was on tenterhooks with the false alarms, on constant alert for when we would actually need to leave home for the hospital.

Having become a Hypnobirthing student and advocate from my first pregnancy with Lara, and thus being equipped with
(1) a lack of fear about childbirth in general and
(2) a basic understanding of how all the sensations I would experience fit into the big picture of my body bringing our baby closer to us,
I was less stressed - content to wait for the baby to be "fully cooked" and come out whenever he was ready... though I wouldn't have minded at all if the cooking time ended sooner, rather than later.

With Lara, I had been somewhat 'forced' into an induced labour, even though she was not yet due, and that had resulted in a 5 DAY LABOUR, a Birth Story for another post, so I was not inclined to chemically induce labour, even though I was assured that for second time mothers, it would be 'much faster and easier'...

That morning, I had a hunch *maybe* that day was the day, because in contrast to previous weeks' sensations of tightening, pressure and even spasms that were concentrated in the front of my abdomen and occasionally shot through my sides and legs, I felt period - like cramping in my lower back which I had not felt before throughout the pregnancy.

It was about 8am in the morning then, and my 'surges' were still relatively mild ('surges' being Hypnobirthing - speak for 'contractions', designed to frame them with the more positive connotations needed to counteract common language in which childbirth is presented as something that is unequivocally painful and traumatic, instead of the miraculous, powerful and natural phenomenon it actually is).

I recall (masochistically?) entertaining the thought of opting NOT to have an epidural JUST TO SEE WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE...

I figured this would be the last time I would be pregnant and so it would be my 'last chance' to experience 'drug free labour' which, apart from the health benefits for baby and mother, might be *interesting* in a way that people who are curious about what getting a tattoo and skydiving and bungee jumping are like, might find these *interesting*...even knowing there will be pain and risk involved...

Since I have tried tattoos and skydiving (unfortunately not being able to squeeze in bungee-jumping while my life was purely my own to risk at no dependents' possible detriment) a similar curiousity about a no-epidural labour was on my mind...

In the absence of other signs of the onset of labour (like 'bloody show' or my waters breaking), I wanted to wait until the surges were coming every few minutes before we actually left the house for the hospital, not wanting to be one of those couples who rushed in too early and had interminable waits for the next stage in unfamiliar, clinical surroundings and/or were made to go home in an anti-climatic manner.

I was even calm enough through my surges to have the presence of mind to wash and blowdry my hair, knowing if I did deliver soon I would not be allowed this luxury for a while.

Around 9am I asked Kishore to prep for Lara and himself to be dressed and breakfasted so we could head to hospital soon, while I sent messages to family members on both sides informing them 'today might be the day.'

My mother, who had briefly served as a midwife before going back into general nursing and then becoming a nursing tutor, prophetically stated that if what I was experiencing was true labour, "the baby would be out by noon".

The pace in which my surges grew closer together was surprisingly quicker than I expected; and while I asked Lara to "Hurry up with breakfast" with only a tad more urgency than we normally tell her to do, little Missy being prone to dilly-dallying at meals, I probably freaked Kishore out when about 930am onwards, I had to instinctively get on my hands and knees a couple of times, eyes closed, trying to practice the Hypnobirthing breathing techniques I had revised to help along the process of my body birthing our child into the world.

I recall him saying a bit frantically as I knelt at our front door, doubled over as he waited for Lara to complete something or other, "Lara hurry up! Can't you see Mama is in so much pain and you are taking your own sweet time??!!"

SIDETRACK: Just the night before, Lara and I had watched a TV show in which a woman gave birth with the usual histrionics accompanying pop culture depictions of labour.

Lara watched the scene, transfixed.

I told her, simply and matter-of-factly, "That's what Mama has to do to get baby brother out Lara, and that's what I had to do for you also."

In most of interactions with my daughter, I have sought to equip her to face life's situations with calmness, truthful common sense, and ideally a minimum of drama.

Those who know the dramatic diva that Lara can be will know that this is a work-in-progress, but her response to me that night showed me some of my 'teachings' were sinking in:

She looked at me unfazed, "But Mama," she said. "You won't cry and scream like that lady, right? You will be BRAVE and stay calm, right?"
#nopressure.

So as we prepped to leave for the hospital I did indeed attempt to be that role model of calm for her, asking her only for her help in keeping very quiet,
"Because Mama needs to focus on bringing baby brother out and she needs quiet to concentrate...".

As we left the house at 10.11am, I texted Kishore's sister Geetha to please prep to pick up Lara from the hospital, and was grateful Kishore had the foresight to ask our gynae to prepare a letter for Geetha to show any police roadblocks between my in-laws' home in Subang Jaya and the hospital in Bangsar, this all happening under the Movement Control Order (MCO).

To Lara's credit, in the journey over to the hospital, she - probably sensing the gravity of the situation, sat very quietly in her seat at the back, and the silence was punctuated only by my occasional deep intakes of breath and some variation of my Ohmmm-like moans when the sensations were at their height.

By the time we got to Pantai Hospital at around 10.30am, my surges were strong enough I requested a wheelchair to assist me in getting to the labour ward, as I did not trust my own legs to support me... and Kishore would have to wait until Geetha had arrived to take Lara back to my in-laws' house before he himself could go up.

I slumped in the wheelchair and was wheeled up to the labour room with my eyes closed the whole time, trying to handle my surges.

I didn't even look up to see the attendant who pushed me... but did make the effort to thank him sincerely when he handed me over, with what seemed like a palpable sense of relief on his part, to the labour ward nurses.

The nurse attending me at Pantai was calm, steady and efficient. I answered some questions and changed into my labour gown while waiting for Kishore to come up, all the while managing the increasingly intense surges with my rusty Hypnobirthing breathing techniques.

By the time Kishore joined me at around 11am (I know these timings based on the timestamps of the 'WhatsApp live feed' of messages Kishore sent to his family), I was asking the nurse on duty, "How soon can I get an epidural??" thinking what crazy woman thought she could do this without drugs???!!!

The nurse checked my cervix dilation, I saw her bloodied glove indicating my mucous plug had dislodged, and she told me, "Well you are already at 7cm (which, for the uninitiated, is 70% of the way to the 10cm dilation needed for birthing), you are really doing well, if you made it this far without any drugs, if can you try and manage without it... I suspect within 2 hours or less you will deliver your baby and since it will take about that time for the anaesthesiologist to be called, epidural to be administered and kick in... it might all be for nothing... but of course the decision is completely up to you... "

So there I was, super torn, should I risk the sensations becoming worse... or risk the epidural becoming a waste?? And of course I was trying to decide this as my labour surges were coming at me stronger and stronger...

I was in such a dilemma...because as a 'recovering approval junkie' there was also a silly element of approval-seeking involved, ("The nurse thinks I can do this without drugs... maybe I CAN do this without drugs... Yay me!") mixed with that element of curiosity I mentioned earlier ("What if I actually CAN do this without drugs... plenty of other women have done it all over the world since time immemorial.. no big deal, how bad can it be...??") so then I thought I would use the financial aspect to be the 'tiebreaker' in my decision making...

I asked the nurse how much an epidural would cost and when she replied "Around MYR1.5k", I still remember Kishore's incredulous face as I asked the question, i.e."Seriously babe, you are gonna think about money right now? If you need the epidural TAKE IT, don't worry about the money!!!"... and while we are not rich by any stretch of the imagination, thankfully RM1.5k is not a quantum that made me swing towards a decision to "better save the money"...

So in the end, I guess my curiosity won out, and I turned down the epidural "just to see what it would be like and if I had it in me" (in addition of course to avoiding the side effects of any drugs introduced into my and the baby's body).

My labour occuring in the time of coronavirus, it was protocol for me to have a COVID19 test done, so the medical staff could apply the necessary precautions. I had heard from a friend Sharon Ruba that the test procedure was uncomfortable, so when the nurse came with the test kit as I was starting another surge, I asked, "Please can I just finish this surge before I do the test?" as I really didn't think I could multitask tackling multiple uncomfortable sensations in one go.

The COVID19 test involved what felt like a looong, skinny cotton bud being inserted into one nostril... I definitely felt more than a tickle as it went in and up, being told to take deep breaths by the nurse. Then she asked me to "Try to swallow" and I felt it go into my nasal cavities where I didn't think anything could go any further, but was proven wrong when she asked me to swallow again and the swab was probed even deeper. Then she warned me there would be some slight discomfort as she prepared to collect a sample... but at that point all I could think about was:

(i) I really don't have much of a choice
(ii) please let this be over before my next surge kicks in
(iii) if all the people breaking the MCO rules knew what it feels like to do this test maybe they won't put themselves at risk of the need to perform one...

In full disclosure as I was transferred into the actual delivery room at some point after 11am, another nurse offered me 'laughing gas' to ostensibly take some of the edge off... I took the self-operated breathing nozzle passed to me but don't recall it making any difference to my sensations..so didn't use it much as it seemed pretty pointless.

I recall some measure of relief when I heard my gynae Dr. Paul entering the room, greeting Kishore and me, and telling us it was going well and it wouldn't be long now and he would see us again shortly.

From my previous labour with Lara I knew the midwives pretty much take you 90% of the way through the labour and when the Dr is called in you are really at the home stretch, so was very relieved to hear his voice though knowing he would leave and come back later meant it wasn't quite over yet.

I do remember realising when I had crossed the Thinning and Opening Phase of labour to the Birthing Phase, by the change in sensations... it is still amazing to me that as the Hypnobirthing book mentioned, having this knowledge I was instinctively able to switch breathing techniques for the next stage of labour .

Was my opting against epidural the right choice for me?

Overall? Yes.

Don't get me wrong.

I *almost* regretted the decision several times during active labour... especially when I felt my body being taken over by an overwhelming compulsion to push that did not seem conscious and was accompanied by involuntary gutteral moans where I literally just thought to myself, "I surrender, God do with me what you will..." (super dramatic I know but VERY real at the time...).

I think I experienced 3-4 such natural explusive reflexes (?), rhythmically pushing the baby down the birth path, one of which was accompanied by what felt like a swoosh of water coming out of a hose with a diameter the size of a golf ball... this was when I realised my water had finally broken...

The nurses kept instructing me to do different things, to keep breathing, to move to my side, then to move to the middle, to raise my feet... and when I didn't comply, Kishore (who was with me throughout both my labours) tried to help them by repeating the instructions prefaced with "Sayang..." but I basically ignored all the intructions because I felt I had no capacity to direct any part of my body to do anything and someone else would have to physically manoeuvre that body part themselves.

When I heard Dr. Paul's voice again and the flurry of commotion surrounding his presence, I knew the time was close... and when I heard the nurse say to Kishore, "Sir, these are your gloves, for when you cut the baby's cord", it was music to my ears...

I'm very, VERY grateful Kiaen slid out after maybe the 4th of those involuntary pushes... the wave of RELIEF when he came out so quickly... it still boggles my mind that my mother was essentially right and as his birth time was 12.02pm, it was *only* about 1.5 hours between our arrival at the hospital and his arrival into the world.

Kiaen was placed on my chest for skin to skin bonding and remained there for a considerable time.

For our short stay in the hospital he would be with us in my maternity ward number C327... another trivially serendipitous sign for me because he was born on the 3rd (May) and our wedding anniversary is 27th (July).

I was discharged the following day 4th May at about 5.30pm, after I got an all clear on COVID19 and a paediatric surgeon did a small procedure on Kiaen to address a tongue-tie that would affect his breastfeeding latch... making the entire duration of our stay about 31 hours.

I have taken the time and effort to record all this down so that whenever life's challenges threaten to get me down I can remind myself, "Ignore the 97% failure probability, focus on the 3% success probability".

Also that the human condition is miraculous and it is such a privilege to experience it.

To our son Kiaen Aaryan, thank you for coming into our lives and choosing us as your parents.

Even though Papa and I are both zombies trying to settle into a night time feeding routine with you, I look forward to spending not only all future Mother's Days, but every day, with you and your Akka...

And last but not least, to my husband Kishore...without whom none of this would be possible - we did it sayang, I love you ❤️

Photo credit: Stayhome session with Samantha Yong Photography (http://samanthayong.com/)

//What Carrie Lam Should Do Next

Jun 25, 2019 CHRIS PATTEN

LONDON – I do not know Carrie Lam, Hong Kong’s embattled chief executive, very well. She worked for my administration when I was governor there. Diligent and well regarded – and Catholic, like many others in the then-colony’s civil service – she had been educated at Hong Kong University and at Cambridge. When I left in 1997, after sovereignty over the city was returned to China, she was rising through the ranks of the Treasury. In most administrations, the cleverest usually seem to gravitate to the economic departments, looking after the cash. I do not recall ever hearing a bad word about her.

Yet today, Lam finds herself lonely and beleaguered, although it is unclear whether she should take all the blame for what has happened to her. In any case, she must now display real leadership to ease the heightening tensions in the city.

Lam must have known what she was in for when she became chief executive in 2017. She was handpicked through an elaborate system designed to ensure that the communist regime in Beijing got the leader it wanted. But from 1997 until now, China’s rulers do not seem to have been very good at choosing people for the job. And their effort to dress up the whole process with some democratic trappings convinces no one.

Lam’s main opponent for the chief executive job was a former financial secretary, John Tsang, who had a huge lead over her in the opinion polls. But in the Chinese government’s view, Tsang had made the fatal mistake of suggesting talks with the student leaders during and after the Umbrella Movement’s pro-democracy demonstrations in 2014. Fancy that: trying to talk your critics around to your point of view rather than beating them into submission and tossing them into prison.

Since day one, therefore, Hong Kong’s citizens have known that Lam is not her own woman. That is a pity, because she might be good at the job if she were. She is in the post but not in power, instead receiving orders from Beijing or its United Front communist hacks in Hong Kong itself.

The proximate cause of Lam’s woes is her attempt to introduce an extradition law that would destroy the firewall between Hong Kong’s rule of law and the arbitrary exercise of power by the Communist Party of China (CPC) on the mainland. The arguments in support of the bill were pretty threadbare. Most people in Hong Kong – lawyers, business representatives, and ordinary citizens – feared that the law would demolish at a single stroke one of the main pillars of the “one country, two systems” arrangement that was supposed to guarantee the city’s way of life and a high degree of autonomy until 2047.

If Lam did not understand how unpopular the proposed law would be, she certainly does now. On June 9, over one million citizens took to the streets in protest; on June 16, about twice that number did. And the protests are continuing. Even China’s rulers have taken note, and have hung Lam out to dry, claiming that the proposed law was not their idea. The chief executive was acting on her own, they suggest.

Who knows? Maybe China simply went along with what locals call a bit of shoe-shining: Lam was simply doing what she knew was expected of her. The new law would obviate China’s need to abduct Hong Kongers it does not like, as it has been doing. In any event, before Lam announced her intention to postpone the legislation, she crossed the city’s border to Shenzhen to clear her lines with a member of the Standing Committee of the CPC’s politburo. This rather embarrassing dash for approval was duly leaked to a pro-Beijing newspaper in the city, just to make clear where the real power lay.

Lam has been badly hurt politically. But Hong Kong needs unifying leadership right now, and the city cannot leave everything to young democracy activists like the brave and articulate Harry Potter-lookalike Joshua Wong. So I have two pieces of advice for Lam, which I hope will not be rejected out of hand simply because they come from me. I do not want Hong Kong to be left in a state of continuing crisis.

First, the chief executive should put citizens’ minds at ease by making it clear that she has no intention of resubmitting the extradition bill later this year or next. She should announce that it is a dead issue, and that she will ask the Hong Kong Bar Association and other lawyers to suggest how future cases that may require rendition of fugitives to Taiwan or China can be dealt with on the basis of the common law.

Second, Lam should announce an open and independent inquiry into police activity during the protests. Everyone could benefit – including the police. After the peace agreement in Northern Ireland in 1998, I reorganized the police service there and dealt with issues of maintaining public order. You do not use rubber bullets as though you were on a rabbit shoot, you don’t fire pepper spray into demonstrators’ faces at close quarters, and you do not beat them with batons as they lie on the ground.

Lam should spend a half-hour looking at the same pictures from Hong Kong that the world saw. Any alleged violent behavior by demonstrators could also be examined. Such an inquiry would not cede any moral high ground to critics of the city’s government. Rather, it would give the chief executive a basis on which to talk to the community and bring people together.

As I am sure Lam now recognizes, it is the citizens of Hong Kong who could be her real friends. She should try to understand their concerns and earn their support. After all, she will never get the same degree of backing from the communist apparatchiks in Beijing. For them, she will always be disposable.

Chris Patten
CHRIS PATTEN//

Read to the end! This is written by an American black officer. People still deny there's racism in the US. They honestly need new glasses and perhaps new thinking cap as well. Perhaps they need a complete metaphorical makeover.

Starbucks.
Alleged events.
Two black males entered Starbucks to wait for a friend to arrive and did not order anything from the business. Prior to ordering and prior to their friend’s arrival, they decided to attempt to use the restroom. An employee denied the men access to the restroom because they had not purchased anything and asked them to leave. The men calmly refused and the employee called the police. The police arrived at the scene and asked the men to leave the facility. The men refused numerous times. The men were told that they would be arrested if they did not leave the restaurant. The men told the officers to arrest them. The men calmly stood up and allowed the officers to arrest them. They were transported to jail, when Starbucks contacted the police department and stated that they did not want to follow through with charges against the men. They were released.

Why did the police officers have to arrest them? Why didn’t the officers investigate further?

Any employee of a business has the right to ask a person to leave their business. If a person refuses to do so, it is trespassing, period. The modern-day purpose of that charge is to reduce physical conflicts, escalating situations and to protect patrons/employees. The number 1 reason why trespassing is important is because the mentally ill and homeless “camp out” inside of businesses scaring/employees and customers. I trained near downtown and I was frequently called to arrest the mentally ill/ homeless for trespassing. It isn’t to discriminate against them, but they cause disturbances. I removed a guy for clipping his toenails on a table. I removed a woman for bathing in the toilet. I removed a man for masturbating in a trash can next to a family with small children. We have a homeless/ mental illness problem in America and there is no real solution to the problem. Trespassing charges are the quickest way to remove them and the nuisances associated with their behavior.

If you have ever been to a parade or any other event, you know that business often post signs stating that no one can use the restroom unless they are paying customers. You can imagine the nuisances caused by hundreds of drunk people creating a line only to use the restroom, pushing actual customers away from a business. It has caused numerous fights and disturbances. Trespassing charges are the easiest way to get people to leave and go on with their day.

In this Starbucks situation, the police were called and an employee wanted the two men out of the store. When the police arrive, it is their job to arrest someone who refuses to leave after being asked to do so by the business. Period. It doesn’t matter if the men were correct or not. A business can ask someone to leave. This prevents escalation between patrons/ employees for the most part. If a patron has a separate civil issue with the company, they are free to file that complaint or seek justice in other methods. The officers did nothing wrong.

As an officer, I know that most officers hate arresting people for trespassing. In an officer’s heart, they are hoping that the person being asked to leave will be gone prior to arrival. Most officers are disappointed to see the person still at the location. Trespassing charges are way too much paperwork and take too long to process at jail considering the charge. It’s annoying, but needs to be done in some circumstances. The officers asked the men to leave several times hoping they would just leave. They refused and told the officers to take them to jail. The officers were forced to take them to jail. They were professional and did their jobs. This is a civil issue and the issue lies with Starbucks and not the officers.

Racism / Cognitive Bias

It is not my place to accuse the employee of being racist, as I don’t know her heart and I wasn’t there. Racism and cognitive biases towards black people are real. I experience it all the time. Both affect black people the same way, regardless of the intention of the person exhibiting that behavior. It is tiring.

The beauty of this incident occurring at Starbucks as opposed to any other restaurant is that Starbucks encourages and cultivates an environment of loitering. College students spend hours there studying without making a purchase. People go on first dates without spending a dime. Business meetings take place there without a dime being spent. Friends gather there to pass time while waiting to go to a concert. People go there to read books. People go there to hang out. Starbucks has less standing to try to enforce a strict bathroom rule because of the environment that it encourages among citizens.

Many people use the restroom before placing an order. I would never order anything prior to using the restroom. You might miss your name being called for your order. I don’t like leaving my food/beverages unattended while in the restroom. I will not take my food/ beverage in the bathroom.

There was nothing about those two men that should have made this employee think they were mentally ill/ homeless. There was nothing about these men that should have made this employee believe they were a threat. There was nothing about these men that should have made the employee believe they were at a parade and using the restroom without intentions of patronizing their business.

Opinion

I get numerous messages from white people who desire to understand why black people get so upset about situations like this and I will try to explain.

I’ve gone to jail to do an interview with a prisoner, wearing the proper credentials and I had a jail worker put their hand on my chest (and the badge allowing me access) telling me that I can’t enter the facility. I was with a white officer, who was not wearing the proper credentials and he was allowed to pass through. When the white officer saw that I had problems passing through security, he came back and told the security worker that I was an officer. I did everything I was supposed to do, but my credentials meant nothing because her racism/cognitive bias told her that most officers are white males and she decided in her mind that I couldn’t be an officer. What if I punched her for putting her hand on my chest? How would I be viewed? She never looked at my credentials. She only saw my hair and face. I needed my white co-worker to validate my existence.

I was talking on my phone in CVS getting ready to buy toiletries for a trip. I was being followed around the store by an elderly white woman. I ignored it and continued to speak on the phone. Suddenly, an officer was called to the store. I saw the officer, but I didn’t care because I am an officer and I just knew he wasn’t there for me. The officer walked up to me and asked what I was doing in the store. I told him I was shopping. He told me that a suspicious person call came out about me. I started laughing and began to look for the elderly white woman. I knew she called because these things happen to me more than they should. She was peeking around a shelf to see what would happen. I knew she called the police. As he began to ask for my name to check and see if I had warrants, I showed him my badge. He stopped gathering my information. The officer was very professional. It wasn’t his fault that he was called there. If he refused to investigate and I robbed the store, he would have been in trouble. He marched me over to the elderly lady and asked her why she called the police. He showed her my badge and she still didn’t believe that I was an officer. He criticized her behavior and stormed out of the store. Good thing I had my “I’m not just another black person” badge. What happens to those who don’t have one? I needed the white officer to validate my existence.

I was at work for nearly 48 hours finishing up a big case. I went to my car to retrieve something and began to walk back into the police department headquarters. I was wearing plain clothes and wasn’t wearing identification. A white officer was in front of me wearing plain clothes and not wearing identification. A uniformed white officer was exiting the building and asked the white undercover officer, who looked like an extra from “Duck Dynasty,” if he was an officer. The guy stated that he was an officer and the uniformed white officer allowed him to enter the building. I was a few steps behind that exchange and the white uniformed officer asked me for my identification as I began to approach the building. I have been through this production many times so I already knew where this was headed. I told him that I was an officer to see if that same privilege would work for me as I entered the station. He repeated that he needed to see my identification and blocked the door. I was tired from being at work for so long and wasn’t as politically correct as usual. He began to try an enforce policy stating that he needed to see my identification. I told him that I would not show him my identification until he chased down the white, homeless looking guy that he didn’t recognize as an officer and ask him for his identification. He was clearly upset. He was upset that his authority wasn’t respected. He asked why everything had to be about race. I told him I’ve been trying to figure that out my whole life. He plead for me to just show him my identification because it wasn’t a big deal. I told him it was a big deal. I won’t comply because that’s what you want me to do and you want your authority respected. I told him to show me his identification and he refused. He got upset and walked away cursing me out. I wouldn’t have had a problem showing him my identification because it is policy. I wasn’t showing him anything because he trusted the white undercover officer’s word, but mine wasn’t good enough. If only I had a white officer with me to validate my presence at the police department.

What would that officer say about me if I filed a complaint? What if I got loud with him? Would he label me as another angry black woman? Would he tell everyone on the department that I am a race baiter to defend his behavior? I didn’t complain.

I went to Gloria’s (Addison) for a birthday party around 2 pm. I had on Timberland boots, but was dressed fashionable. The security guard let the rest of my group in, but told me that I couldn’t wear tennis shoes inside. I told him that I was wearing boots and he said boots and tennis shoes were the same. I politely asked to speak with the manager. I tried to show him my “get out of looking suspicious” police identification and told him that I wasn’t there to cause problems, I drove an hour to get here and I was there for a birthday party. He rudely said that I wouldn’t be attending any party at their business. There were numerous white guys wearing actual tennis shoes and they were immediately allowed inside the business. I pointed to those guys and asked why those tennis shoes were acceptable? He called more security guards to the scene and said that I would not be allowed inside their business. I missed the party, nor did I desire to be there anymore. I never go to that Gloria’s and I think about that experience every time I pass by it. This may not seem like a big deal to you if you are white. These things don’t happen to you all the time.

Every day black people have to be calmer and pick and choose their battles. It is tiring. I understand the frustration of white officers who don’t understand all the frustration exhibited by blacks. These incidents don’t happen to them daily. Their position is validated just by existing. I understand why white people say “just be compliant.” Generally, people should just comply, but sometimes you have to dig your heels in the sand to effect change.

Again, the police did nothing wrong in this situation. There is no recourse when white people call the police because of their own racism/ cognitive biases. What if those men were supposed to see their daughters off to prom and missed it due to their arrests? What if they had to acknowledge this arrest as they applied for jobs? What if their sons had soccer games that they missed because of this incident?

If these white people didn’t step up and say that they come to Starbucks all the time without ordering and are allowed access to the bathroom, where would those black men be? If those white people refused to get involved because the incident didn’t affect them, where would those black men be? If those white people didn’t record the incident, documenting proof of how calm the black men were, where would those men be? If those white people didn’t raise so much hell, that the company called the police station and refused to press charges against them, where would those black men be? Where would black people be without white chaperones to prove their existence is valid and harmless? Black people should not need validation from white people to exist.

Just as criminals don’t wear signs indicating that they are criminals, racists and people with cognitive biases don’t wear signs indicating their status. If you are white, I encourage you to try to imagine going through incidents like this every day as you buy groceries, pump gas, ride the bus, purchase clothes at the mall, attend parties, go to bars, watch your children play sports, and a long list of other everyday activities. It doesn't make you a racist if you don't insert yourself in situations such as this to defend people. It takes a special person to stand up for people dealing with an issue that will never affect you.