Page 71 - Purchasing Power Black Kids and American Consumer Culture

56 . The Shadow of Whiteness
The ease with which police and much of the public could believe that
two little boys would actually kill another child for her bike is frighten-
ing, and as in the description of Tyrone, the connection between combat
consumerism, murder, and other forms of depravity is easily made. As
one editorial mused:
But after witnessing how vicious some small boys can be when they
attack another child, I never would say what a child will not do. After
spending time in the Cook County Juvenile Detention Center, where
children are awaiting trial on charges as serious as murder and rape
of young victims, I dare not say what one child, would not—could
not—do to another. (Mitchell 1998)
Mitchell goes on to recount the police version of events: "after one of
the boys allegedly struck Ryan with a large rock, they dragged her body
into some weeds, molested her with a foreign object and stuck leaves
and clothing in her mouth. Afterward they ran off to play." Again, the
nightmarish pastiche of details adds to the image of depravity, without
adding up to a logical story. If they killed her for the bike, why did they
"run off to play" afterward? Was it that the sexual assault made them
forget about their original object of desire? Why would seven- and eight-
year-old kids who wanted a bike engage in sexual assault in any case?
Interestingly, the issue of the blue bike, which had never been found,
disappeared entirely as complications emerged in the investigation—
including the fact that one of the interrogating officers had previously
had "confessions" by minors thrown out of court for being coerced and
irregular. The adult sex offender later accused of the crime had at least
three prior convictions. The boys' families are suing the city for $100
million.
The understanding that kids like those profiled above are somehow
typical combat consumers not only misreads their consumer patterns at
material levels but misinterprets the social impact and genesis of these
patterns. It is a portrayal tapping a particularly insidious American myth:
that the poor are highly susceptible to commodity fetishism, that they are
addicted to brands, and that they are willing to acquire expensive things
even at the cost of their own (or someone else's) health and/or well-being.
Connected to this idea is a whole rat's nest of assumptions about poverty,
money, and consumption: that the poor are poor primarily due to their
own lack of discipline and self-control; that the poor do not know how
to economize or prioritize expenses; and that commitment of the poor to
consume somehow ends up costing "us," whether through crime, wel-