Claire W. Herbert - A Detroit Story

Dont Think They Know

Frederick Williams

Dont think they know about us

They dont know

That Im a crack baby

A product of that product

Dont think they know that

I was hand crafted by drug dealers

That police kicked in our front door

And put me face down on the floor

That I was told at seven years old not to blink nor flinch

When I seen someone get murdered

I would be murdered

If I snitched

Going to school my clothes had a stench

My clothes had holes and needed stitching

Or stitches

Because my parents didnt give a shit

Or addiction alters ability to make decisions

Dont think they know about them

We know where these drugs come from

Where these guns come from

Where these prisons come from

Dont think they know about us

They dont know

He carry a gun

More than he carry his son

Because people get buried everyday where Im from

We hold grudges because judges only want to

Evict us

Convict us

Restrict us

They dont know

How it feels

being treated like youre about to steal

Or kill

Or both

They dont know what its like to be black

To be black is to be hard

But being black is so hard at times I wanted to turn my back on black

To be black is to be

Not free

Yet to be black is

To be me

I wear a hoodie because Im cool

Because Im cold

Because Im hot

Doesnt mean I deserve to be shot

Dont think they know about us

They dont know

Racial oppression is the root cause of our aggression

Yes Im defensive

Dont think they realize

They paralyze

Us with government assistance

We cant have black power without general electricity

They pass bills through the senate

That makes it impossible to pay bills in the house

Hold

Holding us to a standard they cant stand next to

Policies that shove us into poverty

Dispossessed of property

Atrocities like boarded up houses and abandoned school buildings

Harsh reality for our children

My community is a cemetery

And Im supposed to celebrate February

Dont think they know about us

They dont know

In 2013, while studying informal property use in Detroit, I interviewed Craig, a resident and firefighter who told me we live in an interesting town. If you could weather the storm youll be alright, watch in ten years ... Detroit has certainly changed a lot since I began spending time there in 2008, and many residents in my study were optimistic about the prospects of their city. The timing of my research, from 2011 to 2016, was fortuitous. During our tenure in Detroit, my partner and I witnessed a host of unanticipated but significant changes signaling what may be looked back on as the turning point of Detroit: bankruptcy, the appointment of an Emergency Manager, election of the first white mayor in forty years, massive private investment in Downtown and Midtown by three white billionaire entrepreneurial stakeholders, and the first increase in the white population in sixty-four years. on being gentrifiers, structurally we probably were. This preface is a reflection on my experiences living in and learning about Detroit. The poem at the beginning is by my dear friend and incarcerated artist Fred Williams, born and raised in Detroit until he was wrongly sentenced to life in prison as a juvenile. This poem reminds me of how much, as outsiders or newcomers, we dont know about life in certain parts of Detroit and how much others can teach us if were willing to listen and learn.

Instead, it was called just south of Boston Edison for those who wanted to associate it with the historic districts filled with decadent mansions famously home to Henry Ford and baseball legend Ty Cobbs old houses; The North End by those who wanted to disassociate privilege and align with the urban agri-culture energy in the city; or Near New Center for those hoping to capitalize on the glimmers of gentrification in this area.

Our requirement was that the house be immediately livable, not having the time nor resources for significant rehab (and our bar for livable being quite low). The house we ended up buying was previously squatted, and then renovated and occupied by a white family for fifteen years. It then went through mortgage foreclosure and was resold to us for just over 43 percent of the delinquent mortgage value. The previous owners loved the area so much they moved a block away, and we came to know them well, giving us insight into the house we wouldnt likely have had access to otherwise. The house was enormous and run-down after housing a family of eight for so long, but the bones of the former owners remodel were still in good shapenew windows and roof, working furnace and air conditioners. But the paint was chipping badly, and there were holes in the plaster walls. Of three bathrooms, no single one was fully functional: we had to shower in the basement. But it gave us space to accommodate various friends, family, lodgers, and the occasional stray dog over the years ... We joked that when you have the space you take in guests of all kinds.

In the three years we owned it, the exchange-value of our property increased 258 percent. As young, highly educated white newcomers, we were frequently associated with and viewed as symbols of the changes taking place in Detroit. Some residents viewed newcomers like us with trepidation, as indicators of changes that werent for them and wouldnt benefit them. But many others I spoke with viewed white residents wanting to live in Detroit as an affirmation of the goodness and potential of the city they loved so much. In one interview, a resident explained that having white folks move onto his block would bring resources to the neighborhoodthe police would respond if a white person called, I was told.