How the D.A.R.E. Program Accidentally Radicalized Me

And Why a Grown Cop Had Beef With a 10-Year-Old

If I’m being honest, my political awakening did not start with a book or a protest or a college course. It started in fifth grade with a cop named Officer Hall who decided he had beef with a child.

Not metaphorical beef.

Not “you’re talking too much in class” style annoyance. Actual, full-grown-man energy directed at a kid who refused to nod along to his script.

That alone should tell you everything you need to know about the D.A.R.E. program.

D.A.R.E. Wasn’t Drug Education, It Was a PR Tour with an Awesome Mascot

Like a lot of millennials, I grew up during the height of the D.A.R.E. era, back when schools were still pretending that abstinence-style drug messaging was cutting-edge science instead of fear-based choreography.

But here’s the part they don’t talk about: D.A.R.E. didn’t look the same in every school. I went to two VERY different elementary schools: one lower-income and more diverse, and one upper-middle-class and whiter.

What I experienced in those two places made something click in my head before puberty even hit: The D.A.R.E. program wasn’t designed to educate children, it was designed to target specific communities.

Lower-Income School: The “You’ll Get What You Get” Version

At my first school, D.A.R.E. was barely an event. There was one assembly with a random cop, and we all signed a sad pledge and hoped we were going to win the 1 t-shirt he brought.

That was it. They didn’t try to be our friends or teach us anything real. They didn’t invest time or energy, just checked a box and left. They didn’t need to build trust in communities they already over-policed. That’s the part people don’t like to say out loud, but it’s the truth.

Upper-Middle-Class School: The Cop Broadway Special

Then my family moved, and suddenly D.A.R.E. looked like Coachella for cops. We had matching t-shirts, a chant, and choreographed dance routines. All these friendly cops acting like camp counselors, ie the whole “Officer Friendly” brand rollout. It was the same program, but it was being marketed completely differently.

And that’s when it hit me: They don’t need to charm lower-income kids, they need to charm the wealthy ones. The future voters, homeowners, jurors, PTA parents with the power to complain to the city council about “police budgets.” Of COURSE the propaganda budget was bigger in wealthier neighborhoods. It was systemic.

Enter Officer Hall: My First Lesson in Patriarchy

This is the part that still makes me laugh.

Officer Hall walked into our fifth-grade classroom ready to terrify children into obedient little foot soldiers. His stories weren’t educational, they were cartoonish. His goal wasn’t harm reduction, it was fear.

Unfortunately for him, I’d just come from a community where the things he talked about weren’t abstract. I knew people he was trying to demonize and when adults were exaggerating.

And I knew when someone was lying to kids.

So when he rolled out his scare tactics, I asked my questions. And he didn’t like that. (Patriarchy summarized)

He tried:

• correcting me publicly

• trying to embarrass me

• encouraging the class to laugh

• doubling down on fear-based stories

• performing authority instead of teaching

All because a 10-year-old girl didn’t bend the knee to his script. That’s patriarchy in practice. Men in authority expect compliance, and children (especially girls) are supposed to nod, smile, and accept their version of “truth.”

I didn’t. And it drove him nuts. Ah well.

D.A.R.E. Is Where I First Saw Class, Race, and Power Collide

Looking back as an adult, it’s painfully obvious:

• Lower-income, often more diverse schools got minimal effort because police weren’t trying to build trust. They relied on control.

• Wealthier, whiter schools got the pep rally, the PR, the charm offensive. The cops need those communities to stay loyal.

• Girls who question authority get punished, not educated.

• Cops tailor their “message” depending on who they want on their side.

• D.A.R.E. was never about drugs. It was about shaping future opinions of policing.

It was strategic, targeted. And it was good, old-fashioned United States of America propaganda. I didn’t have the vocabulary for it then: systemic racism, patriarchy, carceral logic, public relations policing, but I FELT it. Kids always feel the truth before adults name it.

D.A.R.E. Radicalized Me, Fuck the Police, and Especially Fuck You Officer Hall 🤣

It wasn’t the way they intended. They wanted obedience and got skepticism. They wanted silence and got prepubescent commentary. They wanted loyalty. Fuck that. But I’m grateful.

When you watch a grown cop try to break the confidence of a literal child, you learn very quickly what systems deserve your trust, and which ones don’t.

If You Lived This Too, You’re Not Alone

Whether you were:

• intimidated by a D.A.R.E. officer,

• confused by the fear-based messaging,

• pressured into “just say no,”

• or you noticed the class divide long before you had words for it…

You’re not imagining it. D.A.R.E. was a PR program masquerading as a public health initiative. And millions of us grew up questioning it for a reason.