I've just spent my 4th night here east of the river in Fairlawn/Anacostia. So far I've felt relatively isolated and incapable.
It's kind of a weird thing--this version of urban "ministry." We don't have any major plans for programs, outreach events, open meals, or after school programs. Instead we want to explore just being good neighbors and loving those we come across. Sounds really nice, but what does that actually look like?
Well, I'm finding without set programs and the confines of scheduled events, it's not very easy to meet people. Now, I'm not saying I think we're going about things incorrectly and instead we need to "start" something--I just think this way of doing things is probably messier and takes a bit more time.
It is more time-consuming to build relationships than just have a giver/receiver relationship built by charities and service opportunities. There is no set beginning or end to a relationship--whereas an after school program or event gives us a schedule within which to begin and end our time together. When you're neighbors.....well you live next to each other all the time.
But still at this point, being home by myself most days....I'm finding it difficult to interact. Maybe I should sit outside more? Walk around? maybe. I'm still not over the unsettled feeling of always having people look at me when I walk around or get on a bus--the only white person in a given group.
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Kate,
As always, you raise important questions. I'll describe some of my related experiences.
During the last couple of years, I've walked around the Cedars District of South Dallas many, many times, day and night during all seasons, and felt very safe and met wonderful people. I have met so many homeless and poor African Americans who are surprised to see me in this area and even more surprised and happy that I'm not afraid of them and enjoy talking to them. Men and women yell across streets to say hello. One guy kept apologizing that he might be bothering me and said he was only talking to me because I talked to him and seemed okay with it. He told me about where he was from and that he lived in a nearby boarding house. He showed me he didn’t have a gun (bringing that subject up scared me for a minute). He asked if I was connected to law enforcement; he was afraid because he had a police record. Another time, a guy was walking down the street the same direction as me. We said hi to each other and talked about the weather. Suddenly, he stopped and said, "We're going to do this right." We shook hands and introduced ourselves. We then walked on together talking for a few more blocks until we reached where we were going to go different ways and parted good friends. Another guy promised to help protect me and my family, after I talked to him and gave him a dollar or two of McDonalds gift certificates. One guy apologized that he had thought I must be lost and had asked if I needed directions. It was last winter. He took a long hard look at me with my ski jacket and beard, and said, "You look like a white Eskimo." We quickly became friends and, upon parting, he said, "You understand not all black people are the same." I responded, "You understand not all white people are the same." This reminds me of the wonderful service where Pastor John preached at a Baptist church in Oak Cliff. After we in the pews had danced, yelled, and sang our way through the service, as we were leaving, the woman next to me exclaimed, "We're not so different, are we?" And I said, "That's right." Recently, one night when I gave a guy a few bucks for some shoes he was selling and asked him to keep the shoes, he loudly recited all of the 23rd Psalm ("Lo though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil....') as we stood in the street surrounded by homeless people laying on the sidewalks.
Unfortunately, most people just hear and see the bad about such areas on TV, in the newspapers, and in movies. (I think Chevy Chase did a real disservice when in a Vacation movie he drove into a black area, and they stole his hubcaps, wrote "honky lips" on his car, and insulted his wife. It was funny but unreal.) I have a friend from a suburb in the Bay Area who visited me and almost wet his pants and started yelling at me to get out of the downtown area near the Cedars, because I drove down a Dallas street with blacks walking away from where they had been standing to get jobs. Heaven forbid he would ever visit us in our new place -- I wish he would. Our developer always asks people interested in property in the Cedars if they have seen the area because many have come, attracted by lower prices, and then refused to even get out of their cars.
The fear is overwhelming and sad. People from "nice" areas are missing so much of the best of humanity, and the best of humanity is sorely missing them, because of fears that go way beyond what is rational.
After saying something like that, I always stress to my wife, Belinda, and our daughters that, not to be sexist, but women must be much more careful then men (especially big, mean looking men). Nonetheless, as you are witnessing, both women and man can participate in this valuable part of life and can attempt to personally meet the challenges Jesus placed upon us to help "the least among us" who are the most valued in heaven.
Jeff Thomas
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