Which way is up?

escape from the echo chamber

At 19, my life as a black woman had been the stained existence of a Detroit born child. I learned all about struggle. Each day, as I searched to find a safe job that would value my contributions, I would cycle through thoughts of how hard life was and how white people have it so good. In racist America, it seemed blacks could only make it big in entertainment.

When I was ten, my class went on a field trip to a slave museum. The sound of crying men and women played over loudspeakers as we walked through a mock slave ship where life sized men and women statues were naked and chained; some trying to sleep on whipped backs. Some of us cried to the point of being physically sick. I recall my teachers and the director of the museum mocking us, as if to consider our soul-crushing trauma evidence of a job well done.

While holding our ears and screaming, we were pushed from behind in order to keep the line moving forward. I vaguely remember the face of a man from the school who leaned over to my teacher to say, “we had them turn it up louder than usual to give them the full experience.” It was the full experience alright — the full, traumatizing experience that made me hate white people.

At 12, I watched the television series, “Roots.” At 15, I was encouraged by my fellow students and adult family members to not miss “Django” in order to “see what my ancestors went through.“ I was becoming the perfect product of a social and educational system that pimps a mindset of powerlessness and oppression.

The evil legacy of slavery continues to plague us today by unjustly demonizing generations of slave owner descendants for the sins of their fathers and by burdening descendants of slaves with the undeserved weight of exploitation, victimization and demoralization. Some are made to feel guilt, others motivated toward vengeful hatred.

That "full experience of slavery” was actually grooming generations of children to become haters of the innocent and desensitized to violence. We were to believe that white supremacists will always have a looming power over us from which we cannot escape. There was no way to foresee that path was leading us on a journey of insecurity and anxiety to a destination of nowhere.

These unchallenged philosophies and echo chambers kept me stuck, insecure and anxious. I felt like a fugitive, not because of the reality of living in one of the most dangerous cities in Michigan, but because of a need to run and hide from an invisible danger. I had been convinced that it was white people who I should fear. 

I hadn’t realized the true value of American principles and how they are necessary foundations to a successful lifestyle. Instead, I was left to wonder, why anyone would want to be an American? Moreover, why would anyone want to be Black?

During the 2016 presidential campaign, I began to compare mainstream media coverage of Donald Trump’s speeches to the full context of the actual speech. I experienced a startling revelation; a sudden stop caused by the contradictions between my preconceptions and reality.

In one Trump speech, he said, “you've been voting Democrat for years. You have listened to them time and time again only for them not to deliver... WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO LOSE?” A dance and orchestra played in the back of my mind as "what do you have to lose" played on a loop. I thought of the dangerous Detroit streets, the 3 boys killed in my school by gang violence, the bullet still in the wall at my old house (it whizzed 2 inches above my head), and the crushing poverty that had surrounded me.

My experiences and memories began spinning around and around, as if on a cleaning cycle in a washing machine. I thought, “if white people are evil and think they are the superior race and hate every race, why do immigrant’s from China, India, Mexico, and even AFRICA do better than blacks born here?“

For decades, I had accepted the low expectations offered, exalted and made handsome by leftist policies instituted by years of Democratic Party rule. Now, I was beginning to see how those policies have damaged my city.

On election day, my mom and I watched with newfound hope as the votes were being tallied. Perhaps, America was on to something.

Not only do I see many on the Left as having a lust for pain, but also as having a fear for what would be left if the Caucasian boogey man disappeared. Some may require racism to flourish, but this cancerous ideology cannot be allowed to continue destroying our neighborhoods, schools and conversations. Otherwise, ignorance will bring about our demise if we don't finally figure out which way is up.