Race & Reconciliation in a Southern City

When it comes to disability, I've always been a bit squeamish on how to go about talking about the whole ordeal. I've never really given it much thought, and I'd like to think I'm not that ableist and that I tend to treat others equally and with respect. But you can never know, right?

A while back I traveled to Birmingham to confront a little of the latent racism that I was inevitably raised with in small town America. That was quite an experience. I learned that it's okay to confront yourself, and you don't have to play the nice not racist white guy all the time. I learned that not all inner cities are as impoverished as the nightly news programs lead you to believe.

I remember being in Thurston, Ohio, and hearing every night the local news: Another shooting in Columbus. A brutal stabbing in the Short North. Police found 5 pounds of cocaine in the back of a minivan in Reynoldsburg.

The city was a dangerous place. Bad things happened there, and therefore, bad people lived there.

Said locations in relation to my hometown of Thurston, Ohio.

So you can understand my hesitancy to go to a southern city with a majority black inner city. But I wanted to see the historic sites of the civil rights movement. I wanted to see the church that was bombed, and the marching grounds of Martin Luther King Jr.

Getting out of the car, I found everything was just as peaceful as it was in any "white place" I'd been in. The city had a beautiful downtown core, complete with plaza and historic monuments. There was the 16th Street Baptist Church where the little girls were murdered. And across the way was the park, surrounded by tall commercial buildings. Everything was normal, and on the surface, all was calm.

I wasn't though. I had never been in a place where there were so many people that were different than me. I saw so many black faces, most happy. At worst was the guy's car who had broken down, and he was couldn't get it to start. In my mind though, he could go off at any minute. Anyone of the people not like me could get angry and lash out, and swing a punch.

Talk about being manufactured. Why in the world would anyone do such a thing to me, a random guy from nowhere Ohio? That day helped lift the blinders off, and to realize that... People are people.

I shouldn't be afraid of some grandfather with his granddaughter just because their skin is different than mine. I shouldn't be afraid of the mother with the stroller and her toddler waddling beside her just because their skin is different than mine.

It was then that I realized that I shouldn't be afraid of acknowledging some of the backward views I had drilled into my head in my youth. Nor should I think I am one of righteous holy, and an exemplar of equality, as we were always so quick to defend against when talking to those of different skin colors of us. We should just take it as we are, and not be afraid to confront the uneasiness that might well up in us sometimes.












So remember that part when I talked about disability? I got off on a little bit of a tangent, but it is a tangent worth knowing to get my approach towards my interaction with disability today.

You might think this is a ruse to go check out my other blog, but I feel as though a coupled posting is relevant, since this blog is all about place, and the feeling it evokes. The other blog will relate some of my feelings towards disability and how I had a serious privilege check today at work. If you'd like to check it out head over here.