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DON'T TALK TO COPS

from DON'T TALK TO COPS + BULLETBELT by DECIDE TODAY

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REAL PUNX DON’T TALK TO COPS

INTRO

Though I am aware punk and its stereotypes may often appear pathetically elitist and too cliquey to merit their own Public Service Announcement, and the advice within Decide Today's "Don't Talk To Cops" art and song should be useful to people regardless of subcultural allegiance, the big picture of punk, for me, is a life philosophy of Do It Yourself and plausible gateway into constructive anarchism. Therefore I see particular relevance of this advice within the "punk" community, and that poster was drawn up in 2011 after reflecting on various instances in which "punks" were faced with fairly casual (non-lethal) obstacles and demonstrated reflexes of "call the police". The specific experience I believe most inspired that poster was from 2010 when I was in a van going to a friend's house with some people. One veteran Cincinnati "punk" was telling me it's cool when you screenprint shirts with cheap ink because they look old and worn, so you don't have to wear them a lot to still look as if you did. He was interrupted when we were about to park in the driveway, only to find someone's car was blocking it. "You should call the cops" he matter-of-factly said to my friend whose driveway it was. She brushed off the ridiculous suggestion and we just parked on the street. But noticing he'd been serious in suggesting to call upon the police, for such a petty inconvenience, resonated deep confusion and disappointment in me. Sew as many Circle A patches to your vest as you want; if your reflex in moments of trivial conflict is to play into the urban myth of cops' purpose to serve and protect us equally (or at all) then you're a detestable poser. For the real punx who aren't too proud to embrace alternatives in a world just as raw whether or not our heads are in the sand, this is for you.

THE LAST TIME I TRIED TO SOLVE A PROBLEM VIA POLICE

In the summer of 2006 my partner and I were robbed late at night outside my house by four guys and one gun. They beat me up, hit me with the gun, and when we didn't have any cash one of them stayed determined even though his friends called him crazy and left. Using the weapon he made us get in my car, with him in the back seat, and drive up the neighborhood while he shoved the gun into the backs of our heads, continuously claiming he'd fire it if anything went even slightly wrong for his plan. In this state of alarm we became instinctively calm, but this kid was obviously scared out of his mind about what he was doing, which was the primary thing making me nervous. I don't know if it was really loaded, but a scared kid with a gun to my head is an unfortunate state of affairs either way. We went around some streets to dodge police at a construction site, finally reaching a bank's ATM where, after accelerated threats and ironically a couple local punk rockers walking by, he got several hundred $$ draining my account (with Realicide tour starting literally the next day), had me back out of the ATM to avoid cameras, drive him to another street and ran away while claiming other guys with guns were watching us in the parking lot.

I'd been assaulted by strangers before, but nothing at all like this. We went back to the police seen at the construction site, who were unimpressed by the story but attempted to find fingerprints as it began to rain. Spending a day to process what had happened, for me primarily an intense sadness that people find themselves in a position where they're doing that to neighbors, I then left for tour while my partner went to the police station and met an officer who was looking for the kids who'd been robbing people chronically around our neighborhood. His lack of respect was hardly veiled, with an American flag bikini girl poster on the wall above his desk. I in turn met this man when I was home from traveling, during which time I'd been talking to a few people from around my block, and to my surprise gathering information with ease about the guy who'd robbed me. I asked the detective "If I give you this guy's name and address will you protect me, making sure I remain anonymous?" His response seemed unreal to me at the time, as he smugly responded, "No, I'm going to show him a picture of you and tell him who you are. My job is to catch the criminal, not protect you." I did NOT then offer the criminal's information, and did not meet with that cop again.

I kept talking to people in my neighborhood who had a pulse on things, and ended up having an acquaintance with particular social influence take it upon himself to pay the stick-up kid a visit. He didn't ask for my money back, but he told them to never come around our house again. "He may not respect me, but he fears me" I remember my friend saying, and we never had that kind of problem again.

ONE CONFLICT SOLVED BY MY COMMUNITY WITHOUT POLICE

Summer of 2014; another story with way less cops. I'd been living downtown for a couple years (out of equal parts necessity and nostalgia, having spent much of my teen years there) and West Court Street was generally alright even if we had to tune out morbid drunks yelling about each others' decimated lives on the street below our windows. June having started, the warmer weather brought all manner of filth outside from the cesspool next door, and apparently one Tony Hooks was home from prison.

We knew Tony had returned to Court Street's trap house not from a re-established pattern of junkies yelling "TONY" up to his building (therefore also shouting into ours next door) but by the sudden introduction of country music being played loudly from their windows, directly into ours. Specifically the KKK-endorsements of what I learned was some guy called Johnny Rebel, an awful caricature of an already diseased racist outlook. The first couple evenings we just left home out of irritated disgust, and I taped the Decide Today "Without Hatred Reject Xenophobia" poster to our building's front door, because the music was so loud it could easily be heard on the street without indication of which neighboring slum was generating the noise. The poster was just meant to say "that ain't us", but it was torn down the next day.

Then on a Saturday night this music was still blasting at 12:30 while we were trying to get to sleep early. Abby, living in a unit above mine, had its volume the worst and from downstairs I heard her finally lose all patience, screaming at the trap house to stop blaring that racist garbage into our windows. The drunken response was a vicious "damn right I'm racist... White Power!" immediately followed by 4.5 constant hours of being verbally accosted by several staggeringly defective excuses for human beings. I do not remember ever hearing the phrase "white nigger bitch" repeated so many times in one night. Actually I don't remember hearing that yelled almost ever before, because of my tendency to keep decent company, disqualifying xenophobic subhumans terminally blinded by hate…

For a stretch of this abuse into the AM hours, the men migrated to their doorway on the street. I listened as they attempted to provoke every passing stranger. "Right on brother, stay white" to those they were supposedly ethnically akin to, and significantly less affirming things to those they judged otherwise. I silently stepped onto my fire escape to try and get a clear photo of the bigots, while they taunted a black man across the street to step up to their door. "Come in here, there's ten of us in here and we're all White Power KKK" ...it sounds like a poorly written cartoon, but this was the actual scenario. The passing man responded, "oh alright y'all White Power over here?" which was the only moment I chose to make a public comment that whole night, saying "No man, we're NOT, it's only their building and we're going to take care of it." The man kept walking, down the street in Over The Rhine, a historically black majority neighborhood, where race riots once erupted in 2001, making national news. In other words, if our neighbors intended to broadcast a message that West Court was going to be a White Power block in fucking OTR Cincinnati, this had no likelihood of leading to peaceful times, for themselves or anyone caught in the eventual crossfire.

My simple contradictory comment was the "race traitor" excuse they needed to spend the next two hours standing below my window yelling threats that they were waiting outside and they'd get me when I leave the building, etc. Yeah I was pissed, but I wanted to eradicate the problem rather than waste my energy barking back on that same dead end level. I spent those hours making calls, collecting information, and remembering situations like my other story from a few years prior, 911 was not about to be the number to call.
The yelling stopped just before 5am, and after a couple short hours' sleep I met with our landlord, who had phone #'s for pretty much every other building owner on the street (some of whom I'd already contacted to rally support) including the unfortunate slumlord of the next door cesspool, who was called without hesitation. I did not hear the man's voice as I launched into an rapid yet detailed "I'm not fucking around" account of what happened, that it was a major strike-out in his building's already unwelcome reputation among the otherwise fairly well-to-do community, that his tenants must be evicted immediately by either him or us, then handing the phone back to my startled landlord without any faked interest in response. If you say things with the right intensity of tone, you don't even have to speak a threat to assure that a serious ultimatum has been established: “Fucking FIX this or we’ll DIY it.”

A few hours later into the afternoon I met with a growing and diverse collection of supporters on Main Street, walking distance from Court. The group was briefed on what had transpired and our goal of identifying and ejecting the agitators from the community. Some were there just to increase our numbers and peacefully escort us home without worry of anyone getting jumped. But most were not there to "talk it out" and had a composed conviction of smashing Nazi scum, especially after we'd driven by earlier to see sickly characters prowling West Court, one with a red swastika freshly drawn on his arm. Again, the compounded concern beyond fighting with these idiots was that people passing through the neighborhood may have no clear way of knowing that the problem was just one building. Innocent neighbors, despite their likely objection to racist filth, could be mistakenly targeted.

When the dozen of us reached West Court, neighbors immediately recognized what was up. They literally met us in the street, begging our mob to beat the shit out of the guys from the problem building. There was a total consensus that its residents were a cancer bringing an escalating danger to our normally pleasant street, be it via aggressive hate speech or their blatant running of life-crippling drugs. People from the trap house pleaded for us to come into the corner store below it to talk things out. We refused and the self-proclaimed "nazis" were forced to meet us in the middle of the street, by then a couple dozen friends and neighbors encircling them, poised to respond to the slightest hint of aggression.

No screaming and (miraculously) no fighting... Rather intensely sober and stern dialogue. We were able to say with harsh articulation exactly why they were a problem and that they needed to leave the neighborhood without delay. Their landlord agreed, but kept falling back on a "30 days legal notice for eviction" which later our landlord Fred countered with "nuisance laws" that could lose him the property due to overt danger the various known activities in it pose to the community. Excuses were made by a woman defending the two men primarily responsible for Saturday night's harassment, such as "But I can't be racist I just had a mixed baby!" (did homework later, the baby is Tony's and has literally been named Aryan… yes I know this all sounds like a nightmarish cartoon) Another gem was their defense that we should not judge what they say and do because they do not judge us for what we wear or how our hair looks, to which the entire audience erupted in laughter. The idiocy of these bigots was something from a terrible movie, when they were granted a chance to defend their behavior.

I explained the danger of attempting to establish a dominance of White Power on any street in OTR, not only for us who would be caught in the inevitable deadly crossfire, but even for their own miserable sake. I said "You've got the right to believe in whatever you want, just like I do, but in OTR somebody's gonna cash that check and it's not going to end well for you." To which he replied "Yeah well I'll be moving to Klan country soon enough." There was no remorse from these wretched monsters. The closest offering of apology was the classic "I don't remember because I was drunk." I told him that if alcohol makes a person behave that way, they simply can't drink it unless they're ready for the consequences; same thing that could fairly be said to anyone.

Though the cesspool slumlord tried to cower away from responsibility repeatedly, the ultimatum from our armed posse and threats of police from other neighbors convinced him to order them to leave his building within ONE day. He also confirmed the names Tony and Cullen Hooks, which everyone following our news took note of. We slept elsewhere Sunday night and returned with a crew posted Monday in case the confrontation's verdict wasn't already dead clear. We did not see the Hooks boys, but heard even the dope dealers yelling at them "You drag me into your racist shit and now I could lose MY home too!" Within 48 hours of the drunken slurs being yelled, they were off our block and on their heinous way to Price Hill (which we can therefore only assume is "Klan country"?) Since then, for anyone curious, venting on social media makes it easy to keep tabs on lowlifes like these. Nazi drunks fuck off!

The pride I have in my community was massive after that weekend. My gratitude runs very deep, and my energy to help my peers and the true citizens of Cincinnati seeking alternatives to police reliance was renewed incredibly. Thank you, friends and neighbors. These streets are ours and oppression must be met with unflinching resistance and opposing force.

OUTRO

The story from downtown Cincinnati was inspiring, but obviously many conflicts will never be so cleanly resolved. Every step in that scenario could have exploded into violence if we weren't so composed and lucky. Many of the people involved left feeling it actually went TOO peacefully, even with a public shaming of the aggressors and banishment from our neighborhood. I've heard the Hooks brothers do still visit that junkie lair on Court periodically, even though another rumor is the building was shortly later condemned. Violence may have tailored the aftermath differently, but maybe it was a gamble best left "quitting while ahead"...

I've shared these stories simply to offer firsthand counterexamples to the myth of police as the mandatory answer to crimes and conflicts we experience in the city. I'm not saying you should be eternally shunned unless you're able to successfully deflect all interaction with cops from this day forward, just suggesting you challenge yourself to dispel the notion that they're really here to watch out for you and are only going to be brutish toward legitimate wrong-doers. When you experience conflict, step back and assess if you legally or practically need to involve anyone besides those who volunteer to aid you, out of comradery or a general goal of opposing injustice, in pursuit of collective peace.

The resources I collected in the Court Street story relied on knowing a lot of people, and more specifically people who'd be readily willing to get brick in those circumstances. Not everyone has friends, or a reputation that yields massive social support. This story would have happened differently in any number of ways, had it happened to you. But regardless, unless we plan on resolving all conflicts and crimes against ourselves completely solo, and we intend to abstain from police reliance, then mutually beneficial social relationships are necessary. Anarchists too need each other, perhaps much more than those who reject the aims of constructive anarchy. Make allies of widely varying sorts, not just to go to fun basement shows with, but to drop what they're doing at any hour, pick up a fucking weapon and have your back against the oppressive force of an enemy.

(This essay pertains to alternatives to police reliance, but make no mistake, the concept of ALTERNATIVES TO ENEMIES is ultimately even more crucial. Beyond unsustainable malice, for true anarchy's social salvation driven by love.)

So, while this message goes out to my subculture, I think it's applicable to anyone who feels cheated or straight up threatened by the establishment's law enforcement. If you think punk sucks but dig the idea, just tear the top part of our poster off, hell even tear off the bottom that says "Decide Today", leaving just the fist punching through the handcuffs and badge. I've seen people do that actually. If you don't have a "Don't Talk To Cops" poster yet, write to us with your US mailing address. If you’re international, you can get a high resolution file of it, or pay a little postage to have them mailed over. realicide@gmail.com

…written by Robert I'mhuman, sober and angry, September 2014

lyrics

(calling upon my community, not the police...)
once I was robbed, beat down bad by stick-up kids
but even worse was how I was treated when I went to the police
reacting with suspicion when I thought I was the victim
racist sexist bullies with no intent to protect me
kNOw!!!

a knight of justice with mob mentality
yeah the real thugs in blue are the police around me
I deny that fascist prowler of the poor
who rejects that we are all the same at our core

you can't win the fight with a fucking cop
pulling a gun won't make them stop
the best form of attack is to refuse that thug
just turn your fucking back
I'm not saying to deny the reality
just that copkiller fantasy
don't talk to cops, don't play their games
this war we can win if we use our brains

OK the first thing you say is "am I free to go?"
and no shit with a power trip they will probably tell you "NO"
but when they talk to you just say "I'm remaining silent"
and if they search you remember say "you do NOT have my consent"
kNOw!!!

fear through physical confrontation
you're kept in line, on your dime, forced assimilation
real freedom is taking charge of your situation
whereas the cops just grip the town with brute intimidation

REAL PUNX DON'T TALK TO COPS
there are alternative solutions to the problems we got

fucking with little kids for skating instead of rotting away all day online
down the block you hear gunshots, meanwhile arrested for painting on a wall?!
there are a few cops with good intentions on our streets of course
but they'll be stuck within the ranks of goons until they quit the force
kNOw!!!

knight of justice with a chokehold on society
yeah the real thugs in blue are these fucking cops around me
I deny! we never see eye to eye
I DENY!!! no killer with a badge and a gun is part of my life

REAL PUNX DON'T TALK TO COPS
there are alternative solutions to the problems we got

henchmen of a class system, not to demonize but just to observe the reality
administrators of oppression, armed guards for the aristocracy
but this is not another song about juvenile fantasies of "killing pigs"
this is a call for common sense and an affirmation to step back and think

engage responsibility, call upon your community
not the false aid of a violent gang AKA the police

(911 is a joke, big ups to copwatch, big ups to security culture, know your rights, in solidarity...)

"...am I being detained or am I free to go?"
"I am remaining silent."
"I do not consent to a search."
"I want to speak to a lawyer."

credits

from DON'T TALK TO COPS + BULLETBELT, released September 19, 2014
Robert I'mhuman: words, vox, tapes.
Ving: words, vox, sequencing.
David Divtech: vox.
Abby Anomie: vox.
"Magic words" collage various Cincy punx.

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