How Sacramento Pulitzer-winning cartoonist got ‘the talk’ as Black boy and gave it as a dad

Out of shame, Darrin Bell buried a memory of how he reacted as a young boy of 9 or 10 when a police officer confronted him holding a toy water gun.

That moment vividly returned to the Pulitzer Prize-winning cartoonist, however, when his book editor suggested he rethink the subject of his first planned graphic novel in light of the protests erupting around the world over the Minneapolis police’s killing of George Floyd.

As they approached the end of an hourlong brainstorming session, Bell said he told her: “You know, it’s ironic. I was 6 when my mom gave me the talk, and I just had to decide whether to give my own son the talk. And he’s the same age I was. My editor said, ‘That’s the book.’”

“the talk” is what African Americans have come to call the discussion they have with young Black boys to warn them of the dangers they might face from Americans of other races who view them as a threat.

The name given this rite of passage hardly conveys the shock, disbelief or loss of innocence that Black youths experience upon hearing this message, or the myriad concerns their elders feel as they take on this task.

Bell’s autobiographical graphic novel, however, does. He has laid bare his own vulnerabilities, first as a son, then as a father.

The Sacramento-based cartoonist released the book, titled “The Talk,” last summer under Henry Holt and Co. He will discuss it, his work and his life Sunday during the free Black History Month Family Festival at the Crocker Art Museum, 216 O St. in Sacramento.

Darrin Bell’s book delves into painful childhood memory

Chapter 1 of “The Talk” finds a young Darrin Bell out in his Los Angeles neighborhood, pretending to be Luke Skywalker, taking out stormtroopers with a water gun his mother had reluctantly bought for him.

Bell had seen white kids playing in a park with black water guns that looked almost like real pistols, and he had begged his mother for one of his own. At first she told him he couldn’t have one, he said, but then she brought home a fluorescent green version.

“I demanded to know why she got me a gun that didn’t look the least bit real,” he said, “and I told her, ‘Everyone’s gonna make fun of me for that thing.’ That’s when she gave me the talk.”

His mother, who was white and Jewish, gave him the talk because his father, who was Black, wouldn’t do so, he said. Her warnings went unheeded, Bell said, and he ultimately took the water gun out onto the neighborhood streets, something he had promised her he wouldn’t do.

“It made absolutely no sense,” said Bell, 49. “Why would (life) be different for me than it is for anyone else? I thought she was just trying to cover for the fact that she probably went to the 99-cent store and bought me the cheapest gun she could find.”

Bell’s “Star Wars” fantasy didn’t last long. As he bent to refill his water pistol in a puddle, he said, he heard someone say, “Drop the weapon.” When he looked up, there stood a police officer.

The encounter, the details of which are in Bell’s book, ended in minutes but scarred Bell deeply.

“One of my favorite Dr. Seuss books was ‘Oh, the Places You’ll Go!’ I imagined that was me,” Bell said. “But then after the thing happened with the police officer ... all of a sudden I felt like I didn’t really belong and almost like I was a guest in this country and had to be on my best behavior, or else I could be kicked out.”

“The Talk” will allow families of all races to have a conversation with their children about racial inequities, why they exist, and the impact they have, said Bell, who has been tackling issues of race for years in his syndicated comic strip Candorville and in his Pulitzer-winning editorial cartoons.

The medium of cartoons, Bell said, allowed him to communicate with readers in a way he couldn’t had he used only words.

“With the written word, the reader paints a picture with their imagination,” he said. “The reader brings their own preconceived opinions and notions to whatever they’re reading.”

It’s possible that someone could picture the young Darrin Bell as much more menacing than he actually was, he said.

“But if they see the image and they see how small I was, and if they see the look on the face of the police officer, contrasted with the terrified look on mine, that’s something that’s hopefully undeniable and not open to interpretation,” he said. “I wanted to let (readers) walk in my shoes for 350 pages instead of walking in their preconceptions.”

Black History Month Family Festival

What: This family-friendly event, which returns for the first time since the Covid-19 pandemic, will showcase an artist panel, art activities, dance groups, a living history presentation, poetry, play excerpts, music, and visual projection of artwork. The Crocker is showcasing two exhibits by Black artists: “Joyce J. Scott: Messages” and “Black Artists in America: From Civil Rights to the Bicentennial.”

When: Bell will speak at 1 p.m. The first scheduled event begins at 11 a.m. and the last one at 3 p.m. The museum is open from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sunday.

Book signing? Bell said he would be happy to sign copies of “The Talk.” The Crocker will be selling a limited number, Bell said, and they’re also available at Barnes & Noble, 1725 Arden Way; Capitol Books on K, 1011 K St.; and Underground Books, 2814 35th St., all in Sacramento.

Where: Crocker Art Museum, 216 O St., Sacramento

Cost: The event is free. Admission to the Crocker is “pay what you wish” on the third Sunday of each month, thanks to a sponsorship by Western Health Advantage.