I nodded, not sure what to say. No matter how much I tried to claim some independence and step out on my own, I always had a pretty massive safety net. Going to Buffalo instead of letting my parents pay for me to get into Cornell was more symbolic than anything. I still had full access to my trust fund, if I ever decided I wanted to stop working.

I was still thinking about what to say when he smiled at me. “Besides it’s not too bad in Ithaca.” He paused then, and the smile evaporated from this lips. “For now, at least.” He looked like he wanted to say more, instead he grabbed his glass and took a long drink.

I wondered if he was thinking about the stops. If he wanted to say something, but wasn’t, because of how I might react. I wanted to know though. I wanted to hear his thoughts.

I knew I was probably playing with fire, but I asked anyway.

“I saw your tweet about the traffic stops.”

He put his glass down as I said that, his attention fully on me and I could almost see his hackles go up.

“You mean the sheriff department’s practice of stopping young men for essentially driving while black?”

There was not much I could say to that, other than agree.

“You’re right. It’s a problem.” I wanted to say more, tell him I was feeling like my hands were tied. That I thought we were not doing enough to address the incidents that had already happened and nothing to prevent new ones. Instead I just looked down at my plate.

Patrice’s face turned thunderous, like he couldn’t believe this was my explanation. He put down his fork and pushed his plate forward, half of the food still on the plate.

“If you know it’s a problem then why hasn’t the DA’s office made a public statement? Why has there not been a single word on this in the media? Because so far it’s just been black and brown boys getting hassled a little bit, and that doesn’t even escalate to the level where anyone in law enforcement even deems to talk about it?”

He looked disgusted and it took everything I had not to get defensive. To start parroting out excuses.

Patrice’s words brought home once again that we weren’t doing nearly enough. I pushed my plate away, practically squirming under Patrice’s stare. I debated with what to say next. There were so many ways I could go here, but I would not bullshit him on this.

“Honestly, I’m out of my depth here.”

Patrice looked at me like he was trying to figure me out.

“No one’s saying dealing with any of this is easy, but acting helpless or like acting it’s out of your hands is not it. It’s irresponsible.”