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Tonight, I had a fresh and intense experience that I need to capture while it’s still vivid in my mind. It was a seemingly ordinary evening as I took Queso, my pit bull, for a walk around our apartment complex. This walk is a nightly ritual for us, usually peaceful and uneventful. But tonight was different.

There’s a part of the complex with a fenced gate in a driveway area. As I turned the corner into this area, I noticed a parked police car with an officer inside. He was just sitting there, minding his own business. But the sight of that cop car struck a fear in me like never before.

Let me paint the picture: it’s 9:45 PM, and here I am, a Black man walking my big pit bull. The combination of these elements—my appearance, the time of night, and the presence of the police—created an overwhelming sense of dread. The officer didn’t say anything to me; he probably didn’t even notice me. But my reaction was immediate and intense.

As I turned my back to the police car, I found myself bracing for the worst. I was fully expecting, and imagining, the pain of a bullet piercing through my back. The fear was so real, so palpable, that I stood there, frozen, preparing for a pain that, thankfully, never came. I imagined the agony of being shot, the searing pain, and the panic. It was a moment that felt both endless and instantaneous.

This experience was raw and unfiltered. It brought into sharp focus the kind of trauma that many people of color live with every day. I haven’t personally been assaulted by a police officer, but I see it happening to others all the time. The constant news stories, the viral videos, the community grief—they all build up and create a background hum of fear and anxiety.

Tonight, I felt that fear firsthand. It’s not something I want to minimize or compare to the devastating experiences of those who have been harmed or lost their lives to police violence. But it was a genuine, visceral fear that reminded me of the fragile line between safety and danger that people of color navigate daily.

This incident made me reflect on the broader implications of such encounters. How many others have felt this way? How many times have ordinary activities turned into moments of terror for Black men and women? It’s a heavy thought, and one that weighs on my mind as I write this.

I share this story not to seek sympathy, but to shed light on the lived reality of so many people. It’s a call for understanding, for empathy, and for change. We need to create a world where everyone can feel safe, where a simple evening walk doesn’t have to be a source of fear.

Tonight was a stark reminder of the work that still needs to be done. It’s a reminder of the importance of standing together, speaking out, and striving for a more just and equitable world. For now, I’m grateful to be home safe, holding Queso a little tighter, and hoping for a future where fear isn’t a constant companion.