I learned that sexual minorities experience alarming disparities in interpersonal violence. Knowing this fact didn't make it any easier when I became that statistic myself.
Police officers aren't the only people who lie about crimes. That's not the point. The police are supposed to uphold the law. Criminals are supposed be the ones who break it. We should be able to tell the difference between them.
South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu, one of the world's leading peace and justice advocates, has called Bryan Stevenson "America's Nelson Mandela." He has gotten innocent men off death row, successfully argued before the U.S. Supreme Court multiple times, including to ban "death sentences."
From the moment those lights start flashing and that siren goes off, we're all in the same boat: we must pull over. However, it's what happens after you've been pulled over that's critical.
If we hope to prevent violent crime in the US, we cannot constantly blame our problems on newcomers to our nation.
I'll preface by saying that I can only answer as a former officer; I could pretend to be able to retrospectively muse about what I'd have said when I was on patrol, but that's all it would be.
While police brutality affects people of all races and backgrounds in the U.S., it's important to note that black citizens face a unique experience within America's criminal justice system, just as they've faced a unique state of affairs for centuries in the United States.
Some people just shouldn't be police officers. It's a sad fact. They don't have the right temperament, the right attitude, nor are they capable of separating their personal feelings from their profession.
Justice cannot breathe when Black men and boys and women and girls are routinely profiled, abused, arrested, and killed with impunity by police officers. We must stop this. We must protect the lives of our young people -- all of them.
It's hard to describe mania to someone who has never experienced it. One minute I'm so high that my mind and body enter a nirvana-like state with feelings of ultimate power and supreme authority. And then in the next minute I feel so paranoid and scared that I think my heart will thump out of my chest.
As we debate the boundaries of law enforcement's authority, I am reminded of my own recent run-in with a traffic cop in New Zealand.
This past week I was at the Netroots Nation 2015 conference. In the past, this has been one of my favorite progressive events, full of both energy and positivity. This year the theme was intersectionality within the LGBT movement. I am forced to report that we are failing at it. Horribly.
Daily control, fear tactics and social isolation of the victim by the abuser help to form the invisible walls that entrap victims of serious abuse. Contrary to popular notions, abusers need not hold guns to their partners' heads to get them to stay, though they sometimes do this as a "reminder".
I am by no means an expert in health IT, but I do know that we need to demand more from these systems. And that includes more interoperability, easier access, and up-to-date information.
For lawyers who specialize in helping clients suppress information that could prove embarrassing or worse, several recent developments just made their job a lot harder -- which is, of course, a good thing from the standpoint of the public interest.
For Whites, saying we loved The Wire may earn us some social capital among more progressive-leaning friends, but unless that social capital is mobilized somehow--unless our attitudes, our voting rates, our actions change--little else happens.