Why are Biss and her husband supposed to be afraid, when it's the black teens of the neighborhood who carry their IDs clipped on their belts to allow the police easy access, such is the frequency of pat-downs? "One evening, I watch the police interrogate two boys who have set a large bottle of Tide down on the sidewalk next to them," Biss writes, "and I cannot forget this detail, the bottle of Tide, and the mundane tasks of living it evokes."