my own private lantern law

This sculpture by Kapwani Kiwanga is an abstract representation of a Black person carrying a lantern in early America. From the show at MIT’s Visual Arts Center. 

In colonial America, lantern laws required that African Americans travel at night with candles. The law, presumably, was designed to address the fears that people had of Blacks. Simone Brown, a professor at the University of Texas at Austin, describes these laws further in an interview about her work on surveillance of Blacks:

Lantern laws were 18th century laws in New York City that demanded that Black, mixed-race and Indigenous enslaved people carry candle lanterns with them if they walked about the city after sunset, and not in the company of a white person. The law prescribed various punishments for those that didn’t carry this supervisory device. Any white person was deputized to stop those who walked without the lit candle after dark.

I was reminded of lantern laws recently, as I have had to confront these issues. Last year, I was walking home from teaching my night class on social theory. I was on the sidewalk, about four blocks away from my home. It was in the evening, approximately 9:30 pm. I was briskly walking along and a car pulls up.

An older female voice says, “Hey, you.”

I was surprised. I was listening to a podcast and was deep in thought. My neighborhood is very quiet at night, so I expect few people to talk to me, except for the occasional jogger who says hello.

“May I help you?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry. What is this about?”

“You are walking.”

“Of course I am. I am walking home.”

“You should wear something different. You are wearing something dark.”

This really was odd. I was wearing a sports coat, dress slacks, and a collared shirt. It was dark colored, but certainly appropriate. I was flustered.

“You should wear something light colored so people can see you.”

I am a person who tries to minimize conflict. I did not want this situation to escalate. I said, “Thank you. Good bye.” And walked away faster. The lady in the car, a sedan, I think, took it as the end of our interaction and drove off. I told my spouse about this incident and we thought it was odd.

A few nights ago, a similar thing happened. Last week, I went out for one of my evening strolls. I really enjoy walking as it clears my mind and helps with my weight. I will walk around the block a few times and then just pace in front of my house. Back and forth.  As I still have small children, if my wife needs me, I can quickly come back inside. Since it was cold, I wrapped a small blanket around me.

As I was about to finish up my walk, a police car pulls up to my house. I immediately knew what was up. If this has never happened to you before, let me describe it. Modern police cars have a battery of lights on the top. For emergencies, they turn on the blue and red, the colors that you probably know about. But they can also be used as super-bright spotlights. When this car pulled up, the officer turned the spot lights at me, directly in my face. It’s very antagonizing.

I’ve interacted with police in past, both as a social movement researcher in the field and also as a citizen. So I didn’t panic and I try to be friendly and open. The officer starts with his routine. He asks who I am and what I’m doing. I tell him my name and explain that I’m walking in front of my house.

He asks for my identification. I tell him that I don’t have it because I’m standing in front of my house. He asks for my name, which I tell him, and then he asks how long I’ve been living in Bloomington, which I also tell him. I did have my cell phone on me, since I was listening to a podcast as I was walking. I ask him if I can call my spouse, which I then proceed to do.

The situation gets very strange when the officer says, “We have a report of a man walking around wearing a blanket.”

“A blanket?”

“Why are you wearing a blanket?”

“It’s cold.”

He seems to appreciate this. He does affirm that it is cold. I am surprised that he’s not wearing a jacket. The police car’s spotlights are so bright I can see the hairs on his arms standing up.

I also tell him that I am sorry if I appear upset, but a man should be able to walk in front of his house without the police being called. Fortunately, at that point, my spouse appears. The officer then de-escalates. He quickly realizes that yes, I am very likely a man standing in front of his house and I am wearing a wrap around blanket since it is cold. Later, my spouse tells me that she recognizes him from around town and that a friendly face probably helped cool out the situation. I am glad nothing came of it, but I was very angry that someone, a neighbor or a passerby, was so challenged by my evening stroll that they called the police.

This essay is not really about the police. In fact, the police officer in this story acted professionally, responded to a call, and realized that it was absurd. Rather, it’s about the anxiety that drives people to call the police. It’s about the anxiety that might drive a middle aged lady in an expensive car to call out to a stranger in the night, just to tell him to wear brighter clothes. It’s a fear that reads unknown danger into the act of wearing a blanket. It is about the fear of others that drives surveillance from the lantern laws of colonial America to the modern mass incarceration system. It’s rooted in a general fear of the other and our own historically specific fears of people of color.

I am relatively even keeled. I was angry for a while, but I soon chilled out. I went to work the next day and had a very enjoyable weekend. Looking back, I do feel disappointed. Not for me. I’ll be fine. In the larger scheme of things, my experiences were modest and I’m well educated so I can constructively deal with these sorts of things. Rather, I am disappointed for other people who are subject to surveillance. These interactions don’t always have happy endings. It’s also sad to know that there are people who are threatened if they see a man wearing a dark sports coat on a beautiful Fall evening. It’s an anxiety that cripples us, degrades us, and makes us less human

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