I felt like a caged animal. Angry, mouthy and forced to urinate in a hole with a camera peering on me. I was without water for eight hours, thirsty from screaming about the injustice. The cops responded to a call about me playing in a church playground at 7 a.m. with my dog. Apparently, church playgrounds are private property. I showed attitude and was thrown to the ground, cuffs squeezed painfully tight and stuffed into a car.

That was the first time I was arrested. My appreciation for authority does not run deep. My parents didn’t beat me into submission and I’m grateful. But it didn’t do me any favors in learning the art of submission.

I’m not like most white people, I don’t see police officers as good guys. I don’t see young black men as suspect.

American cops carry guns, wear breast plates and have mountains of gear on their belt. They expect you to treat them like gods. They are trigger-happy and testosterone-filled. I have learned firsthand that police officers in the States have no de-escalation training. Justice is one of those things that exists in the figment of white peoples’ imagination.

I live in Holland now. When my daughter Sydney and I moved, we were nervous that the government wouldn’t let us in due to our arrest record. The Netherlands accepted us, and we registered our business here. Guns are not allowed in this country. Opposing political parties are not at war. Prisons are empty (exaggeration). The police ride their bikes smiling at the citizens.

We live in a highly populated Muslim society, with 178 nationalities represented. The diversity is stunning. The peacekeeping is admirable. Cooperation prevails. Intimidation is not part of the culture.

Sydney holds her breath when she sees someone in uniform because of the rough way she was thrown about. We were told that officers bragged at the station, “We got that slut, Sydney Spies.” Lovely, huh?

America needs police reform desperately. They should look to this brilliant country for a road map toward peace.

Miki Spies

Amsterdam