Laura Buckman / The New York Times via Redux Pictures
On October 13, 2019, Atatiana Jefferson was murdered in her home by a police officer who was supposed to be performing a wellness check. Jefferson was 28 years old. She was an aunt, a caretaker, and a student. She was a Black woman who did nothing wrong.
Jefferson lived merely ten minutes from my home, but her story hits close for other reasons. The wellness check—the reason police were at her house—is an action which has troubled me for this past year. I lost my sister-in-law this past summer to suicide. My sister had to seek counseling for suicidal thoughts as well. I’ve sat up with more than one friend who was considering ending their life. Prior to this fall, I had always thought that if I had to, I would call the police. I always thought that wellness checks were a last resort, but nonetheless an emergency call. Much like calling an ambulance, it was something that should be done to potentially save a life. My realization, however, is that wellness checks are a privilege. The racism and bias of police officers isn’t suddenly removed just because the police radio code has changed.
Growing up I didn’t give much thought to what the consequences of calling the police were at all. But with the increasing (or perhaps more accurately increasingly covered in the media) acts of police brutality, I’ve reconsidered calling emergency lines. Even if someone was loitering, vandalizing, or just in general causing disorder—was it worth their life for me to stop being inconvenienced? No.
In her article, “Why Black Girls’ Literacies Matter: New Literacies for a New Era,” Yolanda Sealey-Ruiz recalls a question posed by four Black girls during roundtable on racism, “What does it mean to be young, Black, and female in America?” One answer is that being young, Black, and female in America means dying during a routine wellness check. It means being murdered by the person who was called to save your life.
We live in a society in which young, Black women cannot be vulnerable. They cannot be unstable. They cannot be emotional. They cannot leave their doors open to let in a breeze. For if they do, they risk their lives. As a white woman, I’ve had to reflect on my role in wellness checks, just as I’ve had to check myself when I’ve defaulted to my privileged ideas about calling the police. Wellness checks should not be a privilege, but until law enforcement is revised I’ve reconsidered what my steps are as a friend, a colleague, and as emotional support for those who are in a traumatic state. Below is a collage I made in which I remixed a get well soon card to include a promise: that I will never call the police as a wellness check.
