Born in Detroit, now living here too!

Early on, everything I learned about the City of Detroit was from someone else’s memory. There were two myths of Detroit, both fundamentally incomplete, and I trusted each without hesitation. There was Old Detroit, whitewashed by nostalgia and unmatched in goodness and prosperity. Then there was New Detroit, which was too painful, too raw, too scary, and you got out when you could.

This much became clear to me from hearing the stories: Detroit was no longer home. It was a thing that happened to you, and you bore the scars forever.

And so I lived in exile from the City I never really knew, one of the millions of oblivious suburban princes in this country. My streetlights always came on at dusk. I never witnessed another human being getting shot, stabbed, or viciously assaulted. I never saw a neighbor’s house burn. I never wondered where my next meal would come from.  People made sure I learned things that would benefit me.

So I learned. I learned to believe that these entitlements and many more were forfeit if I crossed back over 8 Mile Road. It was common knowledge at my school that most of the Boogie Men were a few miles south of me and that I should accept that the City belonged to them now. The cost of privilege, mortgaged to injustice. Opportunity was limitless, and it was everywhere; but it didn’t go back to Detroit.

This pill, so easy to swallow in the beginning, doesn’t stay down anymore. I am not unique. My family was not unique. LOTS of people moved out of Detroit. It was and is a thing that people do, and not just in Detroit. People with the means get to choose where they live in this country, and thank God for that.

We should all run (or cycle!) as fast as we can to the things that inspire us, whatever they are. But here’s the thing. It’s the running away that we can’t afford. Fear can’t win out forever.

There are too many positive stories. There is too much hope. There are too many energized people with ideas that are too good to ignore. There are too many good people who stayed and kept some lights on while they waited for the rest of us to wake up. And despite all that’s been lost, the pulse of what’s good in Detroit is loud and getting louder.

It’s irresistible. I had to jump on the wave I could see building from a few hundred miles away. So after a bit more than 26 years away, I moved back to Detroit this summer. So far, I love it even more than I hoped and imagined I would. It’s scary, exciting, welcoming, beautiful and full of love. There are some of us who never get sick of hearing and talking about Detroit, and this is where I will try to add something to the conversation.