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Profiling

It’s not just cops that do it. It’s everyone, everywhere, everyday. So what’s the big deal about profiling?

I’m a racist. I’ll admit it. Now hear me out without getting your whatever’s in a twist. What I mean is that I am a racer. I bet you had me profile pegged as a skin-head-hater-dude.

First off you should know that I have five homemade children and two store-bought ones. The store-bought kids had different, darker skin than their homemade siblings, but that’s something we rarely noticed. From experience we knew which kids were routine troublemakers. It wasn't a matter of color, so I won’t mention that said troublemakers were usually white. Of course, there were exceptions but typically we knew what was going down.

Profiling.

If you say you’re against profiling, I say you’re a hypocrite. Everyone does it. (Just because everyone does it doesn’t make it right.) Mom, get out of my head. Whether you admit it or not, you profile.

Let’s say a guy in a hoodie follows you into a dark alley. Some profiling here might come in handy. Now you know every guy in a hoodie doesn’t have bad intentions, right? Most people have at least one or two. But chances are the guy who holds you up, rapes, beats, or kills you is wearing a hoodie. We’re speaking in general. It’s possible you could get held up, raped, beaten or killed by a guy in a crisp button-down shirt and sweater vest. But the Ted Bundy’s don’t strike often enough to count. So I guess you could fairly accurately say that guys in button-downs are usually nice.

Profiling.

If you think about it, I bet you could name dozens, no hundreds or thousands of ways you profile. It’s a matter of evaluating a situation by noticing clues. It's commonly called experience.

Let’s imagine you’re getting on an airplane. Going through security you see an Asian man with glasses and a briefcase, a shapely woman in stiletto heels with flowered luggage, two men of Middle Eastern descent sporting bushy beards, an elderly woman wearing heavy corrective shoes reminiscent of the psycho grandma at the Bates Motel, and a young couple with a baby in a stroller. Now who are you gonna frisk-check?

Your answer would be a matter of personal experience. Airport security may have a different perspective based on their experience. From my vantage point it's like this: I’m always suspicious of women in stilettos because they seem to have an ulterior motive; the Asian man probably doesn’t even need glasses, and is that a small fake nose attached to them? Terrorists who blow up planes are usually Middle Eastern, and I’m super scared of grandmas in psycho shoes. The baby is probably a safe bet—unless she’s been kidnapped and the couple pushing the stroller are being paid to transport her.

Profiling.

It seems that every day I am super crazy busy. I obsess about getting everything done as efficiently as possible. Often I work, cook, clean, organize, shop, hike, write, blogg, paint, garden and/or hang with my family. I race all day long and when I finally get to bed, my head won't stop. It goes round and round. Like I said before. I'm a racist. Er... racer.

Profiling.