I woke up to the cops pounding on my door — and came face-to-face with my White Privilege.

It was one of those nights. I couldn’t fall asleep. My mind wouldn’t turn off, and my thoughts were all over the place; the mortgage, work, writing, my sister, her problems with my niece— it was after 11 pm when I finally settled into a heavy doze.

DING-DONG

My eyes flew open as the final chime of the doorbell faded away — I froze and waited for one of the dogs to start barking, neither of them moved. Maybe I had only been dreaming. Maybe it was neighborhood kids playing doorbell ditch. I listened hard, straining to hear anything other than the soft snorts of the dogs and the steady breathing of my wife as we lay back to back. After a few moments, I closed my eyes, determined to get back to sleep.

Then the pounding started. Loud. Insistent. Terrifying.

My wife, D, and I both flew out of bed. The dogs went crazy.

D yelled, “what the fuck?” and headed for the stairs. I grabbed the aluminum bat we kept by the bed and followed her. By the time I reached the bottom stair, the pounding had stopped, and D was cautiously peering out one of the kitchen windows.

Our front door has a frosted glass insert and a steel security door, so even though I couldn’t see what or who was…