“For the record,” I said to the second cop, “I’m not a criminal. I’m a college professor.” I was wearing my faculty ID around my neck, clearly visible with my photo.

“You fit the description so we just have to check it out.” The first cop returned and handed me my license.

“We have the victim and we need her to take a look at you to see if you are the person.”

It was at this moment that I knew that I was probably going to die. I am not being dramatic when I say this. I was not going to get into a police car. I was not going to present myself to some victim. I was not going let someone tell the cops that I was not guilty when I already told them that I had nothing to do with any robbery. I was not going to let them take me anywhere because if they did, the chance I was going to be accused of something I did not do rose exponentially. I knew this in my heart. I was not going anywhere with these cops and I was not going to let some white woman decide whether or not I was a criminal, especially after I told them that I was not a criminal. This meant that I was going to resist arrest. This meant that I was not going to let the police put their hands on me.

If you are wondering why people don’t go with the police, I hope this explains it for you . . . .

I noticed a black woman further down the block. She was small and concerned. She was watching what was going on. I focused on her red coat. I slowed my breathing. I looked at her from time to time.

I thought: Don’t leave, sister. Please don’t leave. . . .

My colleague was in our shared office and she was able to calm me down. I had about 45 minutes until my class began and I had to teach. I forgot the lesson I had planned. I forget the schedule. I couldn’t think about how to do my job. I thought about the fact my word counted for nothing, they didn’t believe that I wasn’t a criminal. They had to find out. My word was not enough for them. My ID was not enough for them. My handmade one-of-a-kind knit hat was an object of suspicion. My Ralph Lauren quilted blazer was only a “puffy coat.” That white woman could just walk up to a cop and talk about me like I was an object for regard. I wanted to go back and spit in their faces. The cops were probably deeply satisfied with how they handled the interaction, how they didn’t escalate the situation, how they were respectful and polite.

Steve Locke, an assistant professor at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design, was left shaken after he was racially profiled by the police last week during his lunch break.

Locke, who wrote about his experience on his blog, recounted to HuffPost Live's Alyona Minkovski on Wednesday that on his way to get a burrito near campus, he noticed a police car following him.

"The policeman got out of the car, said, 'Hey, my man,'" Locke said. "He had his hand on his weapon, so I automatically knew that something had happened and he wasn't coming to talk to me as a citizen. He was coming to talk to me as a suspect."

Wearing his faculty ID around his neck, Locke immediately took his hands out of his pockets while the officer questioned him. The professor made it clear he was on his lunch break, but the officer -- along with others who had showed up to the scene -- detained Locke, telling him he matched the description of a suspected robber in the area.

The interaction with Boston police had such a profound effect on him that Locke felt he should share an account of the fear that ran through his mind as a black man dealing with law enforcement.

Since Friday, his blog post, entitled, “I fit the description,” has been shared thousands of times on Facebook and circulated widely on Twitter. It received more than 700 comments — both supportive and hostile — before Locke disabled the feature.

What surprised Locke most was the number of people who seemed shocked by the account’s depiction of the officers’ initial reluctance to take Locke at his word.

He said he showed police his Massachusetts College of Art and Design faculty ID and explained that he had not been in the area at the time of the crime. Still, he had to wait for a detective to arrive before he was allowed to leave.