By Michelle Polek
Charleena Lyles called the police to ask for help. That’s
one of the supposedly basic concepts that many of us instill in our children: when you are in danger, call the police.
Memorize 911. If you are lost, find a police officer. They will help you.
In most horror movies, the arrival of police sirens and lights signify that
safety has come at last. Here at SafeChoice, I am currently charging several of
our donated phones that we always have on hand to give to survivors. These
phones don’t have a messaging plan – their sole purpose to have a way to call
911. Calling the police is an important part of many domestic violence
survivors’ safety plans. But calling the police is not a safe option for
everyone.
Charleena Lyles called the police because she was in fear
that a robbery had taken place. She was a survivor of domestic violence. She
had been released from jail a few days prior, having been arrested in early
June. She was armed during that previous arrest, too – she was holding a pair
of scissors to protect
herself from her boyfriend (information which the officers were alerted to
upon their arrival at her residence). Her family noted that she had been
experiencing mental health issues for the past year. “Worrying about losing her
kids and dealing with the craziness of the baby's daddy caused her to have a
mental breakdown,” her older sister stated.
Charleena was holding a knife when the police came to respond to her call. She
was shot by two male police officers after they stated that she brandished the
knife at them.
I can’t speak for Charleena, and Charleena is no longer here
to speak for herself. Yet her story still resonates with grief, with the fear
that communities of color have of basic interactions with law enforcement, with
the trauma that permeates our society when it comes to the intersections of
domestic violence and racism and disability. We don’t yet have a full picture
of Charleena’s experiences, but we do know from our work with domestic violence
survivors that a significant amount of survivors end up incarcerated for crimes
related to their abuse. We also know that survivors’ interactions are often
shaped by trauma, impairing abilities such as reading social cues and emotional
regulation We know that Charleena, in addition to navigating difficulties with
her own mental health issues, was caring for four children, including one with
special needs.
And we know that Charleena was living in Seattle, a city
whose police department was called out five years ago by the US Department of
Justice for excessive
use of force – including the fact that half of incidents of excessive force
were perpetuated against minorities. This document also reports that 43% of
Seattle residents overall and 56% of Black residents believe that racial
profiling by the police is an issue within their city. Charleena’s story fits
within the narrative that we see on the news and in our communities, again and
again: the story of disproportionate police violence against Black citizens. Charleena’s
family has repeated that she was not a threat to the two police officers who
responded to her, that she was small in stature and weight. As with other Black
victims of police brutality, we very well may see that the media will scrutinize
the minutiae of Charleena’s life: the threat her body assumed to present, her
education, her choices in clothing. If/when this happens, I want us to remember
the many dangerous white perpetrators of violence (such as Dylan Roof, the man
who killed nine Black churchgoers in South Carolina in a mass shooting) who have
been successfully taken into custody – alive. I need us to think deeper about
who we consciously and unconsciously consider to be violent or threatening.
Justice cannot exist when we consider some lives to be more valuable than
others.
Charleena’s life and death matter to her family and
community. And the lives of her children matter, too. As someone who does
violence prevention work with children, I was particularly struck by a
statement by the Seattle Police Department: “There were several children inside the apartment at the
time of the shooting, but they were not injured.” The SPD, of course, meant
that the children hadn’t suffered physical injuries. However, before the police
entered their home, these children were already being injured by the fact that
their mother couldn’t access the supports that she needed. They were
additionally injured by (directly or indirectly) witnessing their mother’s
death. “They
shot my mom,” said one of the 10-year old children. I wonder how likely it
is that any of Charleena’s children will call the police if they are in danger.
Charleena’s death comes at a time when Seattle has seemingly
made progress
in its use of excessive force, yet her story seems to contradict the narrative
that progress is inevitable. It isn’t. Seattle isn’t the only place where
disproportionate force is used against people of color. It isn’t even the only
place where survivors of color experience the violence of incarceration rather
than support and hope. We must believe survivors when they honor us with their
stories – or when, unable to speak, their communities advocate on their behalf
and refuse to let our nation forget that these women exist.
We #SayHerName along with other Black women and girls who
have been victimized not only by domestic violence but also by the legal system:
Charleena Lyles. Marissa Alexander. Bresha Meadows. We cannot let their stories
fade. Because their lives matter.