I often walked home from The Beachcomber when I worked there, and on one night, I headed home in a downpour, walking in the road to avoid the ponds forming on the sidewalks. It was after midnight, a Monday night. I was the only soul around.

As I made my way through town, a police officer stopped, rolled down his window and asked where I was headed. I told him I was the editor of the paper and was walking home, a half-mile away. He asked if I wanted a ride, and I said sure. Moments later, I was sitting in the front seat of a warm police cruiser, talking to a friendly cop about life on Vashon, homelessness, crime. When we got to my driveway, I sat in the car another 15 minutes, such was our conversation.

I’m reminded of this incident in the wake of the Ferguson grand jury decision and news coverage about community relations with the local police force there. And I’m struck by what a profoundly different experience it is — not just in Ferguson but in many parts of the country — to be stopped by the police and asked a question if you’re a young black man, not a middle-aged white woman.

What happened in Ferguson between Michael Brown and Darren Wilson is not completely clear to me. But what is clear is that there’s a real basis for the deep distrust some African American communities harbor toward their local police force. According to a study by ProPublica, young black males are 21 times more likely to be shot dead by police than young white males. It’s a staggering figure. As The New York Times recently noted, many communities view police not as I did — a source of friendly assistance — but as a hostile and even frightening occupying force.

— Leslie Brown