In our latest episode of white people calling the cops on black people for merely existing, a woman was rummaging through the trunk of her own car recently and had to explain herself to a police officer.
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White Guy Calls Cops on Black Woman With Nice Car, Not Believing It’s Hers

In our latest episode of white people calling the cops on black people for merely existing, a woman was rummaging through the trunk of her own car recently and had to explain herself to a police officer.

I started to make a list recently (because I love lists, but also because of the next point I’m about to make) about all the things I do on the regular without issue. For example, I was traveling a few months ago and needed to do some work on my computer. I already had purchased a to-go coffee at my hotel and wasn’t hungry, but I needed WiFi. So I did what any quick-thinking American with a deadline would do—mooched off free WiFi at a Starbucks. I powered up my laptop, wrote an article, and left. (I even used their bathroom.) No one said a word to me.

Also, this past summer, I sat outside my kids’ school for an hour and read a book. Why? They were at camp inside the school and my errands took less time than I thought they would. With an hour to spare, I parked myself in the pick-up line, shut off my engine, and enjoyed some quiet reading time. Again, no one cared.

And just last week, I was pulled over for rolling through a stop sign. Rightfully so—the intersection is near a school and I should be more careful. The police officer and I had a lovely exchange, and I got off with a verbal warning. Never did I feel unsafe or nervous when speaking with him. I knew I could reach into my glovebox (or not) or speak respectfully to him (or not) and I’d be able to drive away just fine.

Maybe these events (or lack of events, I should say) happened to me by chance. Maybe no one even noticed my car outside the school for an hour. Or maybe none of the Starbucks employees realized I hadn’t purchased my usual $5 caramel macchiato. And maybe it’s because I live in a small, relatively quiet suburban town where the worst offenses really are rolling through stop signs that the cop and I had such friendly banter.

Or maybe it’s because of something else.

Recently, Jennifer Claude, a singer/songwriter from Orange County, CA, posted a now viral story about how a “young white guy” (YWG) called the cops on her… for looking in the trunk of her own car. Yep, in the latest episode of “let’s call the cops on black people in America for doing normal, everyday things,” this woman was minding her own business in the parking lot of a Whole Foods, looking for her clutch purse. IN THE CAR THAT SHE OWNS AND PAYS FOR.

But this guy just couldn’t believe that.

After asking her if this was, in fact, her car, he continued to harass Claude.

“‘Hey look I’m gonna get security if you don’t answer me,'” he said to her. “I glance at him & chuckle to myself & shake my head & say ‘How else did I get in the trunk w/o the alarm going off?’ (Also I’m dressed in chic business casual clothing, tattoos covered, face flawless, hair pulled back and pinned up & minimal jewelry because I just came from training…so I’m not in my usual jeans, hoodie, & eyebrows).”

And then this racist douchebag came at her with this: “idk you could be a pro – does your key FOB say Land Rover? Let me see it.'”

She could be a pro?! Are you kidding me?

So here it is—for anyone left who doesn’t believe that white privilege exists, please read her entire post. Then report back.

Claude didn’t respond to this asshat, which was exactly her right, since she owed him zero explanation for her existence and the car she drives. He jogged off, but came back—this time with a security guard and a cop, who asked to see her registration so she could prove that this was, in fact, her car.


“This is not happening!! I’m hungry!! I’m just here for food!! Why would you call the cops on me!!?” her post continues. “So I go to switch my camera on to make sure my friends and family know what happened to me if I get shot & killed in the parking lot of Whole Foods…& the YWG snatches my phone!! SIR!!”

Dude. If you don’t want to get filmed for being a racist dick, then don’t be a racist dick. And don’t you dare snatch this woman’s phone out of her hand when you’re the one who instigated this entire exchange.

She finally found out from the cop why he was called in the first place. “Because ma’am it was reported that someone was displaying suspicious behavior & potentially breaking into a Black LandRover in the parking lot,” he explained.

By this point, Claude had understandably reached a new volume level and, while glaring at the “YWG,” clapped back, “You called the cops on me for RUMMAGING THROUGH MY OWN TRUNK OF MY OWN TRUCK THAT I SIGNED FOR BY MYSELF, THAT I PAY FOR BY MYSELF, THAT I MAINTAIN AND PUT GAS IN AND CLEAN BY MY ENTIRE #^%÷&€$£₩@^@:%!# SELF!!!??? ITS MYYYY CAR!!!!!!!”

She says she had tears streaming down her face as the officer (who then realized what really happened) asked if she’d like to file a harassment suit against the YWG. She took him up on it.

But of course, Mr. Do-Gooder had a temper tantrum and said, “I didn’t harass her! This b**** can’t file charges on me! I only did what any good American would do!!”

Um, no, buddy. This is what “racist Americans” do.

In the end, the privileged YWG eventually stormed off, the security guard sheepishly slinked away, and the officer gave Claude a sincere apology.

And at the end of her post, Claude says she’s “utterly and completely tired, angry, and heartbroken.”

Now, if you’re a white person who still believes that “white privilege” doesn’t exist because “you’ve never enjoyed any privileges” and “you’ve had to work hard for everything you have”— I hear you. I grew up in a blue collar, paycheck-to-paycheck family. My mom cleaned houses and my dad was a truck driver. I am a first generation college student myself who scraped by with loans and need-based scholarships. I served my wealthy friends their dinner at our campus dining hall for minimum wage. I have worked for free, had doors slammed in my face, and have faced a lot of rejection to climb the ladder to success. Am I proud of how hard I’ve worked? Yes. Nothing was handed to me. The road wasn’t easy.

But let me ask you this: Re-read this story. Would anyone have said anything to Jennifer Claude, professionally dressed, rummaging through her trunk in front of a Whole Foods, if she had been white?


That’s the privilege. It’s being able to do everyday, often mundane tasks without issue. It’s being able to sit at Starbucks or sit in a parking lot and read or enter your own apartment building. These are all things black people have done recently, for which the cops were called. Things you know damn well white people can do without a second thought.

People often think “privilege” means money, or status, or wealth. But sometimes it just means existing with dignity.

And no, white people, we don’t have to feel guilty for our white skin. And yes, we can still feel pride in our heritage. We celebrate our Swedish, Czechoslovakian, and Ukrainian heritage often in our home, eating pierogies and Swedish pancakes and learning about our great-great grandparents emigrating to America.

But imagine how much better our country would be—how much stronger we’d be—if we all recognized that maybe, just maybe, some people experience a different America because of their skin color. We could at least start there.

And also, if we could please stop calling the cops on black people merely going about their everyday lives, that’d be cool, too.