How Do You Explain the King Case to a 9-Year-Old?

What do you call a black terminator? The answer is racist and ugly. But most chilling, it was a popular joke among 9-year-old Cub Scouts on their way to a camp-out last weekend in the back seat of my car.

I wish now I had not let my displeasure cut them off so quickly. I wish I’d held off long enough to note my own son’s reaction, to see if influence from his peers was stronger than what we’ve tried to instill in him at home.

We’ve tried to tell him something about the history of racism in our country, to make him see why it is so important that he accept cultural and ethnic differences at his Anaheim elementary school.

A difficult new task: to help him understand the Rodney King case. Yes, it’s important that he know that looting and destruction are wrong. But that’s the easy part; television pulverizes you with the horror of this random violence. The tough part: How do you make a 9-year-old comprehend why this case could be such a catalyst for the events unfolding in Los Angeles.

How do you explain to him, with his limited experience, that the videotape of the blows to a black man lying on the ground brought back, for black Americans, a million historic images of white oppression.

I hope my son and his classmates will get a chance to hear from someone like Pamela Hills, a young black woman from the Progressive Women’s Assn. here in Orange County. She told me in an interview that she has had to become more assertive and thereby enhance her own self-esteem to deal with racism.

“I used to get angry when I’d be seated near the kitchen in restaurants,” says Hills. “Now I say, ‘No thank you, I prefer that seat over there.’ ”

Hills says that the acquittals of the four white police officers in the Rodney King beating conjure up one image for most black Americans: that it’s OK to beat up people, as long as you are white and they are black.

She was explaining to me why a majority of black Americans, according to a recent Ebony magazine survey, believe that racism is as bad now as it was 20 years ago. I didn’t agree with her. Progress has been made on many fronts, even if not enough. But then, I am white. Hills’ argument is that the perception of racism is there, and perception often becomes reality. Her comments reminded me of an unnerving moment in my own office. A group of reporters had gathered their chairs and were chatting on a break. I decided to join them. Not because they were having fun, but because they so very much seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. My presence seemed to subtly disrupt the conversation. That’s when I noted the makeup of this gathering: three Asian-Americans, two blacks and one Latino. As diverse as their own group was, they were comfortable together. I know the people in this group all like and respect me. But society’s racism had drawn these minorities together; a member of the majority joining them forced a subtle transition in the mood of the conversation--one we were all very cognizant of momentarily.

Many people are bothered that so much of the violence in the Los Angeles riots came from young punks who seemed to have little discernible interest in the Rodney King case. And yes, no doubt those types were out in huge numbers. But what moved me most was watching U.S. Rep. Maxine Waters talk about the black anger that the King verdict set off. You could see in her anguished face a lifetime of experiencing racism. And when asked if the riots surprised her, she gave an answer that Pamela Hills could understand so much better than I: “What did you expect?”

It’s not important that my son share my own reaction to the Rodney King verdict. And it’s not terribly urgent that he get angry about the riots that followed; it doesn’t take a quick mind to see how wrong that is. What I do consider critical is that my son understand where we’ve been, and how we got here. And maybe someday, when someone frivolously asks him, “What do you call a black terminator,” my son will respond: “I don’t want to hear that junk. It’s so stupid.”