Life in da ‘hood: Why Move to da ‘hood?

Why move to da ‘hood? This question is difficult to answer. In order to move beyond a superficial explanation for my reasons, a shared understanding of the vocabulary is required. Additionally, a cursory understanding of Liberation Theology would also be helpful. Obviously, not everyone that I encounter shares these understandings, so I end up offering several explanations, each with increasing complexity.

The most basic explanation that I offer is an appreciation for diversity. I appreciate learning from others who have had vastly different experiences from my own experience. I enjoy trying to understand the way they see things. My worldview expands as I am able to understand the perspective of others whose experiences have been essentially different from my own. It’s true that I appreciate this, and this factor did play a part in me moving to Woodlawn. Therefore, I offer it as a superficial explanation. However, this is a shallow and problematic explanation for several reasons. For one, I could easily find such diversity in “better” neighborhoods or locations. Moving to Seoul would allow me to experience more diversity in a much safer environment. Moving to Woodlawn seems reckless if this is my primary motivation. Secondly, this is a rather egocentric, selfish reason to do something. This explanation has no explicit action attached to it whereby I can invest or give back to my community. It’s all about me learning, growing and expanding my worldview. With this explanation alone, my actions become an interesting experiment that I conduct to benefit myself. While those whom I encounter may learn and grow likewise through my interactions with them, this is more a byproduct of this explanation than a purpose of it. Furthermore, who is to say that my host community in this instance wants or needs these byproducts? The needs of my community are a non-factor in this explanation, and Woodlawn doesn’t need any more parasites. This isn’t just some cool social experiment for me. So this reason suffices as an elevator speech explanation, but fails much beyond a superficial introduction to the idea.

A second explanation which I offer builds and greatly expands upon the first. I moved to Woodlawn, because I think it’s ridiculous that Chicago (or anywhere in the U.S.) is so segregated and that the South Side gets the shaft. I moved there to challenge the conventional model and the status quo. This explanation goes one level deeper, not only in how radical it is, but also in how it reflects my worldview and outlook. By choosing to live in Woodlawn, I have the opportunity to deepen my understanding of the social issues that plague a neighborhood like mine. I learn by experience how issues like gangs, drugs and poverty affect a community. I am then able to contrast those experiences with my own experiences in communities where the effects of these issues were diminished or negligible.

By moving to Woodlawn, I accepted that such issues would now impact me on a personal level. They would no longer be statistics in a newspaper or topics in a book. I can now attach faces to issues. I can attach memories and experiences to them. These connections between societal issues and personal experiences will grant me deeper understanding. This understanding will enable me to speak to and criticize the dominant culture with credibility. Charity and philanthropy are almost always well-intentioned by the giver and needed by the receiver, but charity will always only ever be a band-aid. It is as Walter Bruggeman said in his book The Prophetic Imagination:

Quite clearly, the one thing the dominant culture cannot tolerate or co-opt is compassion, the ability to stand in solidarity with the victims of the present order. It can manage charity and good intentions, but it has no way to resist solidarity with pain and grief. So the structures of competence and competition stand helpless before the one who groaned the groans of those who are hurting. And in their groans they announce the end of the dominant social world.

This explanation much more accurately reflects my motives and intentions for living in Woodlawn. It’s not as selfish and parasitic as the first explanation. Nevertheless, it has some flaws (or at least potential trouble areas). While I deeply subscribe to the concepts of Liberation Theology, certain aspects of it need to be very carefully balanced. For example, there are issues associated with being labeled as oppressors or oppressed which can be problematic if not handled correctly.

As one who generally falls in the oppressor camp (white, straight, American, middle class, college-educated male), I find that it’s easy to experience White Guilt when I become aware of how I have oppressed others. Liberation Theology doesn’t always address healthy ways to deal with these complicated emotions. I would guess–although I don’t claim to know–that the oppressed would have to struggle to overcome psychological and social challenges as well.

The other aspect of Liberation Theology that is troublesomely difficult for me to balance is when the oppressor relinquishes her or his power. This is the other side of the coin to white guilt. Well-intentioned practitioners of Liberation Theology may end up viewing themselves as liberators. This mindset leads to the very hierarchies that they have struggled to shake off. For me in particular, seeing myself as a White Savior is a mental pitfall that I must struggle to avoid. Of course, Liberation Theology advocates neither of these pitfalls (white guilt or white savior), but keeping a healthy balance between the two is often difficult in practice.

Perhaps the best explanation I can give that is inclusive of all of my motivations is that I moved there out of a desire to identify with the other. This means encountering diversity. It means learning to see and understand things from someone else’s perspective. It means identifying with their struggle. It means taking on their struggle as mine and allowing them to reciprocate. It means apologizing, accepting apologies, seeking reconciliation and trying to love each other in the process. In doing these things, our moral consciousness expands. We all experience community with each other and can no longer demonize those who are different from us.  This is good for all of us.

It’s the only way that I think of to fix our world. I don’t think change will come from the sidelines. I don’t think throwing lots of money at something will fix it. As Gandhi said, we must be the change we want to see in the world.

Life in da ‘hood: Reactions of Black People

As with white people, black people exhibit a range of responses to where I live. Reactions typically vary more according the relationship that I have with someone rather than their socioeconomic outlook as in the case of most white people.

One common reaction is easily elicited by simply walking down the street or in some public place in our neighborhood. If I walk by someone I don’t know, it’s common for them to ask me what I’m doing. (It’s completely culturally acceptable to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger). White people don’t often venture out into neighborhoods like ours. Therefore, many assume I fit into one of several categories (usually in this order): student at the University of Chicago, missionary, social worker, at-home doctor or lost. These assumptions indicate the various roles that white people play in a neighborhood like ours. White people only come to da ‘hood to save it. They clean up trash. They tutor poor kids. They heal sick people. (In case it’s not clear on my views about this attitude: It’s patriarchal and condescending. On one level, I appreciate that people are trying to help. At the same time, their actions seems to assuage their guilt more than help our neighborhood). At any rate conversations with people who react in this way tend to be short. I met them randomly on the street. There is a good chance that one if not both of us is on our way somewhere.

Another common reaction–though one that is becoming more uncommon the longer I live here–is confusion that is never vocalized. This reaction is the most frequent reaction I get when I meet someone new in my neighborhood. Via context clues, they can usually deduce that I’m not lost or visiting–that I somehow belong here. Yet, they’re confused about why I am here. They’ll often ask questions around the issue, without actually addressing the issue. I can think of one interaction specifically when I was hanging out with a neighbor on her porch. Some friends who lived several neighborhoods away came over to visit. One of the guys from the group kept glancing at me. He could tell I wasn’t an outsider, because everyone else on the porch acted like it was completely normal for me to be there. He eventually asked if I was visiting from somewhere. I said, “No, I stay right there,” pointing at my apartment. He stared at me for a few minutes, trying to make sense of it, then gave up. This response sweeps the issue under the rug. “You’re white, and that’s weird, but I’m not going to ask you why you moved here if you’re white.” Given enough time though, they get used to seeing me, and the questions of motive fade as my acceptance into the community grows.

The final reaction is the one that I appreciate the most. Some individuals aren’t hesitant to ask questions. They acknowledge that it’s abnormal for a person who looks like me to live in a neighborhood like this. The first time I encountered this reaction was about a week after moving to Woodlawn. We were walking up the street after getting some Italian ice, when a neighbor came down off her porch, introduced her self, and then said, “So, why did you move here?” Her meaning was obvious: Why did you move to this neighborhood where you obviously don’t fit the demographics at all? Rather than sweeping  issues of race, class, education, etc. under the rug, she addressed them directly.

The actual words used are very similar to the way that most white people react: “Why did you move there?” I believe that both responses reveal (which, again, is not to say that they condone) the inherent racism and classism in our society. However, our neighbor’s question of, “Why do you live here?” differs nonverbally from most white people asking, “Why did you move there?” The former shows more curiosity and open-mindedness than the latter seems to. The question seems to assumes that moving to Woodlawn was intentional and purposeful, rather than accidental or reckless. It doesn’t question whether or not we should, but simply asks why we did. Despite the social and cultural isolation that afflicts much of the South Side, this response seems to convey a higher degree of cultural sensitivity and openness.

Coincidentally, this neighbor who was transparent about the weirdness of our choice of neighborhood ended up becoming our cultural mentor, one of our closest friends. It is precisely this honesty that opens doors for relationships. Acknowledging the “-isms” helps to destigmatize them. Once the “elephant in the room” has been acknowledged, the issues can be addressed in a more sincere and exhaustive manner. Questions can be asked, grievances aired and reconciliation sought.

In summation, I have only received positive feedback when talking to neighbors and those in my community. In contrast to the militant reactions of some white people, I feel that my neighbors have welcomed me with open arms. While some people lack the time or assertiveness to find out why I moved to Woodlawn, so far no one from my community has reacted negatively as far as I know.

Life in da ‘hood: Reactions of White People

Tags

black, chicago, class, classism, da hood, hyde park, ideals, inequality, injustice, justice, phase, poverty, race, racism, season, Social Justice, south side, superficial, white, white people, woodlawn

As I said in An Introduction to Woodlawn, white people comprise about 3% of the total population. It’s highly uncommon for a person who is (at least superficially) like me to live where I do. Consequently, I usually get strong reactions when I tell people where I live.

When I tell white people that I live in Woodlawn, the response I almost invariably get is, “Where is that?” Curiosity is evident on their face. It’s obvious that they’re not familiar with Woodlawn. I explain, “It’s on the South Side of Chicago. You know Hyde Park? Were just south of there. Right at the end of the green line.” The response to this (or if they already knew where Woodlawn is) is almost universally, “Oh…” Their forehead wrinkles as they think for a minute. The initial curiosity resolves into confusion and uncertainty: “How did you end up there?”

My answers range from general and superficial to an in-depth explanation of my values and theology. I vary my answers based on context and my perception of my listener’s familiarity with such ideology. Regardless of the final conclusion that they may reach, the implication of that question–“How did you end up there?“–underscores what I believe to be latent racism and classism that is prevalent in our society. This is not to say that they actively or passively condone racism, classism, etc. It simply acknowledges–if only on a subconscious level–that our society operates on these constructs.

Upon hearing why I moved to Woodlawn, responses vary drastically. For whatever reason some feel threatened by my lifestyle and feel the need to attack or discredit it. This response is interesting to me. I am very careful to present my values without pronouncing judgment on divergent opinions. In fact I usually explicitly state, “I’m not saying this is what everyone should do. It’s just right for me.” Nonetheless, some become defensive. They dismiss me as being inexperienced, naive or reckless. “Well, just wait until you have kids. Then you’ll want to move,” they tell me. Or “Well, there’s no way you could get me to do that,” (despite the fact that I’ve repeated multiple times that it’s not for everyone). I have even had people tell me, “You should move out of there. That’s just stupid.” They seem intent on arguing with me to convince me that I’m making a mistake. Their insistence can border on militancy. Interestingly, these responses are positively correlated to the high income levels. I suspect that this reaction is driven at least partly by guilt. On a subconscious level, they may feel that their lifestyle is contributes to societal problems like racism and poverty. This causes them to feel convicted on a conscious level, and so they react defensively. They spends most of the time talking and aren’t that interested in what I have to say.

Rather than verbally attack me for how I choose to live, some people prefer to write me off as “just going through a phase.” I won’t deny that this assessment is possibly correct. We all change as we have new experiences. It’s entirely possible that 10 years from now I’ll be doing something different. However, I have been in this “phase” for upwards of 5 years now. My resolve and dedication to the ideas that typify this “phase” have only deepened and solidified over that time. They show no signs of slowing, either. If this is a phase, I’ve been in this phase for a long time, and will continue to be in this phase for a long time. Rather than “phase”, perhaps “season of life” would better describe my experience, should I ever deviate from my current ideals. In general, this response attempts to write me off as being naive and childish. People who respond in this way usually make arrogantly grand, generalized statements about who I am despite their extremely limited knowledge of my personality or history. They assume that they know me, despite the fact that they just met me.

Others respond with essential non-reaction. They blink, stare and say after a pause, “Oh… that’s interesting.” It’s evident that they have never seriously thought about issues issues like racism, classism, inequality and injustice, much less met someone who would break with comfortable convention over these issues. Because they’ve never really thought about such issues–issues which I spend most of my time and energies thinking about–we end up having little in common. Conversation with such people tends to be laborious and superficial.

Some white people are intrigued by where we live and think it’s kinda cool. They usually end up asking lots of questions about our experience. They’re interested in understanding the culture of our neighborhood. They accept that the “reality” as portrayed by the media about such neighborhoods is skewed and shallow and are interested in hearing a multidimensional treatment of the subject from an insider. They tend to be open-minded, not only towards me choosing to live there, but to my treatment and analysis of life in Woodlawn. Inversely to those whom I described first–the militant reactors who do the majority of talking in our conversation–I usually do the majority of talking in this case. They ask complex questions. I spend a lot of time breaking down the strata of issues related to their questions. Most people who respond this way have a basic familiarity with issues of race, class, equality and social justice. They haven’t necessarily engaged such issues deeply, but they have had exposure to them. They may not be willing to radically alter their lifestyle, but they’re not shocked that someone else would.

Lastly, there is a small percentage of white people who understand why I chose to move to Woodlawn. Many of them have done similarly unconventional things themselves. These are the folks that “get it.” Conversations with them usually begin by briefly acknowledging a shared set of values, then quickly move towards comparing and contrasting experiences. Such people are few and far between, so it’s refreshing to meet someone who understands my beliefs and experiences.

Life in da ‘hood: Gangs and Cops

Tags

9-1-1, arrest, bigot, bigotry, bigots, block, brave soul, brave souls, cops, coworkers, cynical, drugs, fight, gang, gang banger, gang bangers, gang member, gang members, gang violence, gangs, gun, harass, harassment, humiliate, innocent, lackluster, neighborhood, police, punk, racist bigots, random, shooting, sluggish, soul, souls, vices

It’s not uncommon to hear kids from neighborhoods like mine say they hate cops. As a white, middle-class kid living in a white, middle-class neighborhood this used to surprise me. How can you hate cops? Sure it’s annoying when you get a speeding ticket (but wasn’t that your fault to begin with?) True, occasionally they act like jerks. But sometimes my coworkers can act like jerks. This doesn’t mean I hate everyone I work with.

I didn’t understand why anyone would hate cops. I also didn’t understand why anyone would want to join a gang unless they were heavily coerced into doing so. I didn’t understand any of this until I moved to da ‘hood.

I would estimate that gangs and police both equally contribute to and detract from the stability of our community. I acknowledge that the mission of the police is more noble than the mission of a gang. The police exist for a good purpose. For this reason, I am much more critical of their actions and egregious shortcomings.

Both groups have some similar vices. Gang bangers deal drugs, which should come as no surprise. So do the cops (which was a surprise to me). I know that several cops deal out of the back of a local restaurant. Gang bangers accidentally kill innocent people on occasion. So do the cops. Recently, gang bangers mistook a young man for a member of a rival gang; they shot and killed him. Last summer the cops shot and killed one of our neighbors for pulling a candy bar out of his pocket; they thought he had a gun.

The gang on our block works to protect residents from external harassment. I don’t have to worry about some young punk trying to mug me on my block. When someone kicked in our exterior door, everyone from the local gang offered to help us find the perpetrator (and potentially beat the shit out of him; we respectfully declined their help). The cops, on the other hand, are significantly more likely to humiliate, harass and arrest innocent bystanders. I once watched them arrest two kids who happened to be walking down the street after a fight. The fight had ended a half-hour earlier, and the kids weren’t even around when it happened. The cops (late as usual) arrested the kids because they were the only two they could find.

This brings up another issue with the police in our neighborhood: they are dependably sluggish in responding to offenses. We used to call the cops when people started shooting. The cops would show up 15-30 minutes later–just in time for anyone involved in any mischief to disappear. I watched two kids beating another kid on the ground. When I called 9-1-1, the dispatcher asked if they had a weapon. I said no. The cops showed up 20 minutes later. Fortunately, the kid wasn’t badly injured. He could’ve easily died before they showed up. We watched a kid shoot down the street at someone, then run the entire length of the street to hide in his house. We told 9-1-1 that we could see him holding the gun and what house he hid in. The cops came a half-hour later. What’s particularly frustrating about this is that the cops are never far away.

They patrol our street every 10-20 minutes. The University Police (the third largest police force in the state) is less than 1/4 mile away. In real emergencies–i.e. they actually hit someone, instead of just shooting at them–they appear in the blink of an eye. Last summer they shot someone a few streets over from us. More than 30 squad cars swarmed our neighborhood in less than 2 minutes. This shows that they can respond quickly if need be.

Overall, their lackluster response time sends a clear message: we don’t care unless somebody gets shot. Additionally, the cops in my ‘hood are racist bigots. Virtually every encounter I have with a cop confirms this, whether they be white or black. Cops will frequently stop us and demand to know what we are doing. One cop said that we were “brave souls” for living where we do. This made me wonder about his view of everyone else who lives on our street. He didn’t refer to them as brave souls. Are they not brave? Or do they not have souls? Are they less than fully human in his eyes, and so deserving of living in an environment like this?

On the one hand, I can understand why a cop could become cynical. They often deal with the worst of the worst. On the other hand, bigotry is never justifiable or excusable. It’s wrong. Period.

In my experience, gang violence is less random than I imagined. True, occasionally the violence is random. From time to time the victim was mistaken for someone else or caught in the crossfire. However, the overwhelming majority of people involved in gang violence are involved for a reason. They pissed off a rival. The rival tried to shoot them. Gang bangers don’t sit on their front porch and snipe random people walking down the street. They try to shoot their enemies. Consider also that our gang protects our neighborhood. Like I said, no punk kid will pull a gun on me on my street under the watchful eye of our gang.

Additionally, the sentences doled out by the courts for black on white crime are notably more severe. A few years back, someone accidentally shot and wounded a university student. They went away for life. After that, everyone was more careful of who they shot at. When all of these factors compound, the chances that I will be a victim of a violent crime drop dramatically.

In fact the members of our local gang have expressed interest in promoting the healthy development of members of our community. For example, a good friend from our ‘hood has been taking some substantial steps to get his life on a better path. However, he continued to use drugs supplied by our local gang. My wife marched down to their porch, approached the leader of our local gang and confronted him about this. The leader responded well and said he’d put a moratorium on dealing to our friend. “He’s trying to do something good in da ‘hood,” he said. “Not a lotta people try and do that, and we support that kinda thing.”

Of course, gangs lose points in my book for the obvious reasons. I think our neighborhood would be better off without the drugs that they sell and the inter-gang violence. While they don’t purposefully shoot random people, I’d also rather that they didn’t shoot their enemies. Other than the drugs and violence, however, they do little harm to our neighborhood.

They’re a far cry from the gangs of previous decades who played a legitimate role in society–some even received federal grants. I know that the founder of our gang fought for years to keep heroine off of our streets. Yet, I often wonder if they weren’t somewhat forced into the vices that they now exhibit.

In summation, neither group has earned my respect. I’m admittedly harsher on the police than on the gangs, because I expected more from the cops and less from the gang bangers. I can now understand why kids from neighborhoods like ours hate cops. I have to constantly remind myself that not all cops are assholes, like they are in my community.

Life in da ‘hood: Media Portrayal of Gangs and Cops

Tags

black, black and white, bloodshed, cnn, cop, cops, corrupt, corrupt cop, Crash, dictators, drugs, evil, gang, gang bangers, gang violence, gangs, good, good vs evil, hollywood, imperial, justice, matt dillon, media, peace, police, preconceptions, racist, saints, sexist, streets, training day, violence, warriors, white

Of all of my preconceptions coming into this experience, the dynamics surrounding gangs and cops have been the most surprising. What is painted, in large part thanks to the media, as a starkly black and white–metaphorically and racially–issue has turned out to contain more gray than I ever imagined. Before exploring my experiences and observations about the role of cops and gangs in da ‘hood, I’d like to first expound upon my preconceptions and the role that the media played in shaping them.

My preconceptions, formed and reinforced by the media, figure gang bangers as corrupt, imperial dictators who exert control through fear. Evil to the core, their reign is secured by bloodshed and drugs. They wear gold everything, drive low-rider Caddies with chrome spinners, and shoot random people for fun. Cops are warriors for justice, saints who struggle against such forces of evil to bring peace and justice to the streets. The confrontation is a classic conflict of good vs. evil. These portrayals are so numerous, I won’t bother to cite examples. They dominate the media landscape.

Media occasionally offers an alternative view of the police. Films like Training Day offer an image of the “corrupt cop.” Like the gangsters he deals with, he is evil to the core. Such films portray the confrontation as evil vs. evil. However, such films usually paint the corrupt cop as a lone wolf who eventually gets what he deserves.

Crash probably offers the most realistic rendering of the situation as I have experienced it. Matt Dillon’s character is a racist, sexist cop who uses and abuses the power needlessly. Nevertheless, he isn’t the incarnation of evil. He shows compassion for his unwell father, and eventually reconciles for a previous abuse of power. He’s bad but not rotten to the core. The confrontation is much more complex than good vs. evil or evil vs. evil.

However, to my knowledge, the media never portrays gang bangers in a positive light. This representation is also false in my experience. I’m not suggesting that the media portrayal be inverted (good gangsters vs. evil cops). A more accurate picture would paint the conflict of good vs. evil within each side. Both cops and gang bangers contribute to and detract from peace and justice in my neighborhood.

Finally, the nature of the violence as portrayed by the media is severely skewed. The media seems to glorify innocent victims while completely overlooking gang-on-gang violence. If a gang banger is shot, they might get a brief mention in the evening news. If an innocent child on the way home from school gets shot, they get splashed all over every major media outlet for days or even weeks. If the majority of media coverage pertains to innocent victims, one might conclude that the majority of violence is random or targets the innocent and uninvolved.

As my only significant source of information, the media greatly shaped my preconceptions of violence, gangs and the police. My subsequent experience leads me to believe that reality is much more complex than the perspective offered by Hollywood and CNN.