Whistle without fear

I am very lucky to feel hardly any fear. One specific moment when I was afraid was watching the pointy teeth of a school of barracuda staring at me as I snorkeled in the Florida keys as a teenager. But this was not fear that made me get out of the water: this was a fear that made me remember the precious and amazing moment for the rest of my life.

I've always lived in fairly safe neighborhoods, my parents instilled in me a confidence in walking around as many neighborhoods as possible, and I'm extremely lucky to have never been attacked, so I don't have fear as a trauma response.

I went to some trainings as a girl scout, including things like the advice to hold your keys between your knuckles in case you are threatened in the parking lot at night, and to always carry a whistle and pepper spray, just in case. But my parents dismissed all of this as counterproductive fear-mongering.

But now, I have a tiny whistle on my key chain. It will always be with me. And I don't have it for fear that someone is going to attack me, I have it for fear that someone in a mask, in a car without license plates, is going to grab someone else on the street in front of me, just because their skin is brown and they are speaking Spanish.

I am proud to have this whistle on me, as a talisman to remind me to act and to record instead of just to watch, to protect those around me from immoral overreach by the government.