When a person of color arrives at the executive level in law enforcement, it is typically at the pinnacle of a career marked by professional excellence. And though the road has been long and the sacrifices plentiful, it is often the fulfillment of a professional dream and a personal desire to make a difference in the lives of all communities, especially the ones he or she comes from.
That certainly was the case for me, and countless colleagues have confirmed that my story is not unique. That makes it especially difficult to watch as my peers are promoted to lead departments and agencies only to vacate those seats after brief, beleaguered tenures.
Credit: handout
Credit: handout
I was fortunate that when I was chief, I had the support of two thoughtful mayors who regarded police as protectors of the city’s residents and the chief as a partner in thought leadership about public safety. Their willingness to work collaboratively and to provide the time and resources necessary to effect change was critical — not only for the good of our city but also to my success.
My tenure ended very much on my own terms, with me having reached the personal and careers milestones I aspired to. I want that for all of my dedicated colleagues who serve with intentionality and commitment.
So I speak from a unique perspective — one that is shaped by a positive experience with adequate support, leadership and guidance — when I challenge why comparatively few of us actually ascend to the top ranks while our tenure is measurably briefer than our majority counterparts.
Traditionally, chiefs are the department’s public face. They consult with policymakers and municipal leaders and are looked to as leaders in constituent relations. But frequently, when critical shifts are needed, minority chiefs are brought in to do those things and be fixers — innovative problem solvers who can develop and implement strategic plans aimed at drastically reducing crime statistics and changing internal culture.
I learned through experience that a transformational strategic plan takes time to develop and anywhere between three to five years to take effect and yield measurable results. During that time, chiefs need tangible support from those who hired them.
Sadly, I can cite countless examples of new chiefs whose time in roles they were well-equipped to perform was far too brief. With most, their plans were trending in the right direction; however, in addition to adequate human resources, they say they needed several critical things that were not offered: time, autonomy to take decisive and often difficult actions to achieve the outcomes they were asked to deliver, the ability to address bad policing with transparency, and the assurance that performance measurement is standardized and consistently applied.
Just the other day, a colleague reminded me that during the pandemic, homicide rates and crime statistics were high nearly everywhere. And while several chiefs started new jobs in major cities that required an aggressive, targeted approach to reduce crime and reshape the culture, the chiefs that were hired to effect change were held responsible — some would even say vilified — for the errant behavior they were trying to correct. Additionally, though not enough time had lapsed to accurately assess downward trending crime statistics, these same take-charge leaders — who were once lauded as change agents — were deemed ineffective and problematic.
In optimal circumstances, being a law enforcement executive is not easy. So it is not hard to fathom why leaders who are experiencing racism, devaluation, inconsistent support and constant pressure to meet shifting targets decide to leave.
In general, police recruitment is tough, but it is an even trickier task in minority communities — and as our leaders retire, we are concerned about who will take their places. But it is not a concern we should shoulder alone because the lack of minority leadership in law enforcement has far-reaching impact.
Assembled by an executive order, the Task Force on 21st Century Policing laid out pillars aimed at fostering communication and changing the dynamics between police and communities they serve. The pillars aim for procedural justice, transparency in operations and the alignment of policies with the values we claim to uphold. They work from the premise that diversity in the rank and file and in leadership is a mandate if we are to build public trust and move the needle on crime.
We must support 21st Century Policing in spirit and truth, allowing the trailblazers who are appointed to lead to actually lead. Otherwise, change will always be a topic of not-so-polite conversation, and our communities — all of them — will suffer.
Rodney Bryant is a former chief of the Atlanta Police Department and the current president of the National Organization of Black Law Enforcement Executives.
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