In the depths of its despair, this neighborhood reveals truths about the human spirit, faith, courage, resilience, and compassion.
My team looked at each other and took a deep breath. Earlier, the team decided the most important action we could take was to meet the people on their home turf and listen to what they had to say. Besides that, we had nothing else to offer but the ability to listen.
I was keenly aware that I was a tall, white guy with gray hair, and I was in the minority. When I greeted and welcomed people, that feeling of being different vanished. People said hello, smiled, and were grateful we came to their neighborhood when no one else would. Joseph introduced me personally to several of his neighbors.
A tall, African American fellow came around the corner of the recreation center along the sidewalk. I could tell by the look on his face that he was angry. Joseph tensed up immediately, and his eyes fixated on him. Joseph went to meet him. The meeting was upon us, and I went inside to join my team and start the discussion. Moments later, I heard angry shouting outside. People were crowding around the doorway. The fellow I saw earlier was trying to push his way inside. Partially inside, his eyes connected with mine. He directed his aggression at me, shouting and punching a fist in the air. I caught snippets, “get the hell out of my neighborhood,” “you’re not welcome here,” and “you ruined our neighborhood.” Joseph told him in no uncertain terms that he would call the police and face arrest, or he could leave the meeting now. Eventually, common sense prevailed, the man disappeared, and Joseph restored order.
The meeting started slowly. The drama cast a quiet pall over the room. Eventually, though, people opened up more and more and began to share the hardships of life in their neighborhood. Poverty, crime, no opportunity, unemployment, poor services, drugs, fear, hopelessness, hunger, crime, gun violence, people dying too young, and no escape. No matter how many times you have heard this sorrow before, the impact on me never changes, sadness. But there were also stories of faith, courage, resiliency, and strength of community bond and identity that brought people together, helping each other with what little they had.
And I have heard this seemingly contradictory state of affairs all too often in places where people suffer. And no matter how often you have listened to this, the impact on me never changes. I am amazed by the human spirit. I have seen that even in some challenging places, there is an innate goodness in people, and it spurs me to work harder to help. I discovered the neighborhood was always facing forward, and now I was too.
We met for a few hours, listened carefully, took a lot of notes, looked into their eyes, shook hands, and shared stories in the meeting after the meeting. The sun was long gone when the last person left, and the night air was cool. Most people who came were grateful that we would go and listen to them and expressed hope that something would come of it. Joseph looked weary. He put his large hand on my shoulder and softly thanked my team members and me for coming to their neighborhood. He apologized for his neighbor’s outburst earlier.
I was not bothered by the outburst. I learn so much from another’s anger. I believe all human behavior is motivated at a base level by one of two elements - love or fear. When someone expresses anger towards me, I try to look beyond the words and understand the underlying fears that motivate it. It is a technique that has helped me work through many tense situations. The angry outburst from earlier in the evening seemed to be from fear of losing what remained of their neighborhood and the powerlessness to prevent it from happening.
The team disbanded and went their separate ways that night. Joseph locked up the recreation center, and he and I continued to chat further in the parking lot. He pressed me to tell him what I would do next, my plan, and what he should do. I did not know, but I did not want to say that to him. Instead, let my team look at this closer, and we will talk with him again in the upcoming days.
Joseph parted. I paused before I got into my car and listened to the nighttime sounds of the neighborhood. My mind was turning, as it often does when encountering something I do not understand. I took a deep breath, got in, and prepared to drive home, only 8 miles away but worlds apart.
This story was originally published on May 6, 2021.
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Next week - Part 3, Rolling Up Our Sleeves, in this month-long series, The Little Neighborhood That Could.
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