I keep remembering the roughness of the low-cost badge I had and how my clothes fell well past my knees. I was only five years old. It was the day of Halloween. From that moment, I was sure—just as only a child could be—that some day, I’d be a police officer.
My opinions weren’t respected when I was young. Aunt Cici teased happily, “I love how cute that is. Just like this year, she’ll ask to be a princess again next year. Yet, I stuck to my decision. Not after the other girls chose to swap their plastic handcuffs for shiny tiaras. Not even when I became older and boys in high school dismissed me, claiming I wasn’t tough enough for the job.
I took on night shifts at a seedy diner so I could pay for my police training. Sometimes, tired from the job and wet from messy streets, I iced my fingers and headed home. Every time I caught a glimpse of it, it reminded me why I continued to motivate myself.
Whenever I pulled someone over by myself for the first time, I could tell my heart was beating so fast that it might be audible to the driver. Still, I managed to do it. So many times, I found myself on calls for domestic violence and overdose cases. There’s even a hostage situation that still creeps me out and gives me night sweats every so often. However, I did not give up. I always kept going.
I was appointed sergeant just a few days ago. When I entered my new office, I noticed that I had a small box on my desk. Inside? That very same Halloween badge—showing its age and bends, butt nevertheless remaining together. This book had belonged to my dad for many years.
I was overcome by emotions not because I had reached my goal but because that younger version of me always trusted it was possible.
When I’m in uniform now, the little girls living near me stop me to get photos with me.
But there’s a truth I have never brought up before. My partner is not the first person I tell.
I was preparing for my final test at the academy the night before it was scheduled… At one point, I was seriously considering giving up.
I had worked for twelve hours at the diner when it ended. Someone drunk yelled at me because they got the wrong ketchup and my feet felt like they had hot pokers in them. When I got to my house and took off my socks, I found that my toes were bleeding.
On the following morning at 6:00 a.m., the academy gave the students one last test. I hadn’t closed my eyes and rested for a single moment.
As I stared at the little badge hanging by a thin piece of tape in my mirror, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I dialed my mom’s phone number. No answer.
Therefore, I messaged Trina, who I knew from high school. She answered with a short single line.
“You’ve come this far not to give up now.”
Depending entirely on coffee and determination, I made it to the test. I passed. I wasn’t very far ahead, but I got through.
After all those challenges, I carried uncertainty like a close friend, for many years.
Two years into being a police officer, I faced one case that almost made me quit.
A young child had disappeared. His family called him Rami. Ten is the number of years. Since his mother had no official papers and was afraid of the police, she didn’t call until several hours had passed. At that stage, he’d been missing for over six hours.
I relied on everyone I could count on. We went through more than half the county. The minute we spotted him, he was huddled inside an empty greenhouse and terrified; the moment he saw us, he sprinted over and hopped into my arms. I can still remember how much he wanted to stay, almost scared that letting go would take him away.
Yet what does the department say? They did not include my name in the press release. Lied and said someone else above was responsible. Said that their team had put in effort as a group.
That pain hit me close to home. After that, I took the badge off the mirror in my room.
