Profiling: it's as American as apple pie. When I was a child the stores would close between three and four in the afternoon because the lovely school children would rob them blind on their way to their buses. Was this profiling or just smart business? Probably only half the students were filling their pockets with snacks, candy, magazines and drinks; the other half were just a diversion. So some had to suffer the lack of a Snickers Bar because of those many rotten apples that would just stuff their pockets full of loot.
I learned early that to avoid profiling condemned you to be one of the endless rabble of victims. In my neighborhood if you if you didn't keep your eyes wide open you had the life expectancy of a gnat. I also recognized the benefit of not being the profilee. My friends could have been some of the finalists in the Darwin Awards. They would dress up in full hippie costume (tie-dyed shirt, four inch platform shoes, six foot scarfs and a Cat in the Hat hat adorning their Indian braids) and drive cars with no muffler, a marijuana emblem on the trunk, a peace sign on the hood one headlight and twelve people in the car, and then act shocked when the the police pulled them over. They always got caught, they couldn't run fast in those platform shoes. I preferred to wear black sneakers, a suit and a yamaka.
It seems that all these people who call for an end to profiling live in Gated Communities.
Keep an eye out for CP's latest article on profiling.