Casual Car Conversation between a white Mom, and her 12 year old son, who is African American:

Him: “Mom, guess what? We saw the Po-Po down in Columbia City today.”

Mom, idly adjusts the radio to Christmas music: “Oh, really? What were the police doing down there on a Saturday afternoon?”

Him: “Well…. when Juni and I walked to the toy store to spend our allowance we saw two Seattle police officers. They followed us into the toy store. Mom, one of them offered me a candy cane …but I was really afraid to take it.” (he looks down at hands in his lap)

[White Mom now thinking…. why are the police handing out candy canes to kids at Retroactive Toys? And, with a surreptitious glance over at him: Wait. Does he seem a little shaken? Proceed with caution.]

Mom: “So, did the police say anything to you?”

Him, very quietly and still looking down: “Not much. He seemed nice and he said ‘Hi. Would you like a candy cane?’ but I kinda froze. I wasn’t sure what to do and I said no thanks. Also, one policeman was Black, mom, but it was weird. I still felt afraid of him. I’m not sure why. He had a gun too like the other one.”

[White Mom is now indulging in the calisthenics of denial:

I’m sure they were just doing outreach. Maybe he just wasn’t hungry for candy. It’s a big shopping time. I am grateful the police are down there. Our business district has endured problems with theft, and also we’ve had other violent crime. Maybe they are “walking a beat” like when I was a kid.].

Him, now with a hard swallow: “I stood really still, Mom. I remembered to put my hands right in front of me, where everyone could see. I was feeling like I wanted to hold onto my Groot [a tiny plastic toy figure] but he was in my pocket and I knew I should never put my hand into my pocket.”

[White Mom instantly recalls a moment years ago when a Black mom approached her at a swimming pool and politely asked what steps she was taking as a white person to keep her biracial son safe, and had she talked to him about personal safety around police?

Holy crap, what steps did I take?!
Did I take the right steps!
I’ll take all the steps but what are they ??]

Me: “ You felt afraid of the police.”

Him, now with a 12 year old eye roll: “Well, sure, of course I did. But Mom you’ll be relieved because I was super careful. I didn’t move and I didn’t put my hands into my pocket. So, they didn’t have any reason to shoot me in the toy store.”

[White Mom is hearing her Dad’s confident voice from deep in her childhood:

“If you are in trouble, the police are where you can go for help”

“If someone is chasing you or hurting you, you can always seek out a police officer and ask him to help you and he will keep you safe”

“If you become lost, look for a police officer in a uniform and tell him. He is there to help you.”

and in adolescence, for the advanced course:

“If a police officer asks you for something, tell them, but they have no right to harass you or detain you. You have civil rights as an American Citizen. They can’t get away with that. They can’t hurt you or detain you without reason. Tell them you know your rights.”]

And with my own son, in the car on a Saturday afternoon.

[White Mom, clinched stomach, clicking rapidly through a menu of parental responses:

“It’s OK because if you do exactly what a police officer says, you will always be safe.” — No, reject that instantly

“If a policeman speaks to you, please immediately ask if you can have your Mom” — Wait, what the? I can’t protect him in that moment! He’s only 12 but he’s a big kid. He is 5'4 and by next year could be 5'10, with growing independence to navigate the city. That’s completely irrational.

“People who get shot often aren’t cooperating” — well that’s wildly untrue. If I tell my son that, it’s a plain lie only to comfort my(white)self in the moment. [Humiliating confession: For 1 nano-second I consider this, in my desperate cowardice and fear].

“The police are trained to treat everyone the same, especially kids” —Yah, not so much with that.

So nearly every single thing I was told about the police as a white female child growing up in the 1970s is not-applicable to my own son? How do I offer him a shred of comfort in this situation? How do I ensure him that his death at a toy store two blocks from home is not even remotely a distinct possibility? How do I face my own reckoning with this?]

Mom: “Buddy, here’s what I know because I am your Mom. You stayed calm and did the right thing in a situation where you were scared and unsure. You are a good boy. I think in this case the police really were just handing out candy canes to kids and they did not mean you any harm. But I think I’m going to call down there and ask what’s going on.

And, finally, now delivering the voice that he will hear and remember from deep in his own childhood:

…but his is a good time to refresh the advice your Dad has told you before:

Keep your hands out in front of you — where the police can see them at all times, just like you did. Do not ever reach for anything, or move quickly. Make sure that your head and face are visible and not with a hat or hoodie pulled down. If the police ask you a question, answer them plainly, always keeping your hands in sight. Say “sir” and be slow, and be honest. Do not ever argue with the Police or become angry. When the police are done speaking, you may ask for your Mom or Dad and if something doesn’t seem right, we will help you solve it AFTER you are safe and home. If you think they are treating you unfairly, never say that or try to argue with them in the moment.

And I think you should talk to your Dad about this. In his lifetime he has had dozens of interactions with Seattle police and he will have some wisdom to share with you. I have had almost no interaction with the police in my life. ”

Him: “Mom, I am done talking about this now. Can we stop for a hot chocolate?”

Yes. Yes, we can.