Confessions of a Profiler

My name is Kwesi Jackson and I am a profiler. Hey, the title is confessions of a profiler. So the appropriate thing to do is start with a confession. Profiling has saved my life. I grew up very much the pacifist. Most bullying incidents that I experienced in my life were met with smiling and waving, as the penguin from Madagascar would say. I was karate chopping, back double slapping, off the top rope kicking them in my mind, but just as calm and seemingly okay with it on the outside. I created a checklist of what to look for in a bully, and it had more to do with size than color.

Some of my thoughts are the sum of my life experiences, which is how I touch down at this place that I am in life. With discretion I am able to assess, in nearly every location, what are the potential disruptions to the tranquility of my family. Here is the translation: when I walk into stores, buildings, businesses- I listen and look for foolishness and avoid it! In an instance I can go from laughing and totally engaged in a conversation to standing with my chest poked out with a look of “GO AHEAD, MAKE MY DAY!” When I am alone it’s different. I am still very watchful, head on a swivel, and still cognizant of all foolishness.

It’s not just in stores; I do it in my car as well. My children look up to me as their protector. They run and get me for every spider they see, every thump in the night, and even bury their heads in my leg when they are embarrassed. And with such a weighty responsibility I step to the plate everyday, well prepared to not necessarily hit a home run, but to at least get on base to keep my family in the game.

We all profile, but everyone cannot confess to color/ethnicity being the least of the concerns.


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