A couple days ago I was coming in the house with Devin and Shalawn after a long day of work and driving for an hour through some of the worst thunderstorms I’ve seen in a long time (with the gas tank on “e” most of the way). As we walked up to our front door I noticed two big juicy snails walking up the stoop.  I decided to take a second and point them out to my son.  He looked on with mild amusement as I explained that a snail carries his home on his back and moves slowly from place to place because it has no legs or feet.  My lame attempt at a science lesson was cut short when I heard yelling in the background and my wife saying “get in the house.”  I looked up and there was a police officer, with gun drawn and aimed, screaming at a man to get out of his van!  I fumbled my keys a bit and finally go the door open.  I was concerned that a shootout would jump off and insisted my wife and child go in the house first.  My wife said “no you go, I’ll get the door.”  I said “just go on, I’ll worry about the door.”  She would not, and we went back and forth a couple of times, then I relented and urged Devin in with me.  She followed. 

I could not believe that we had to almost argue to decide who would go in first.  For me it was a “I’m the man of the house and if anyone is going to get shot here it will be me” thing.  She was saying to herself “I can close the door faster because I don’t have anything in my hand” as I had.  Either way all the bickering in another, more volitile situation may have gotten us all killed.

That said, a man, especially a black man, has to be allowed to protect his family as he sees fit and our women should try to respect that when it makes sense.  Next time she goes in first with the boy.