Police brutality in children’s fiction

I found a knife in my pocket yesterday morning. My first thought was relief: I use it for gardening, but I’d lost track of it, and I had a Sunday of planting-out and tying-up planned. My second thought was, what if I weren’t a privileged white lady? If somehow I were stopped by a nervous police officer who was predisposed to see me as trouble, I wouldn’t be carrying my gardening knife, I’d be armed. Continue reading “Police brutality in children’s fiction”