Fire Escapes and Contemplation

Recently my daughter and I traveled to NYC.  Part of our trip was a tour into Harlem to see landmarks and attend a church service.  I don't know what I expected from this tour.  I am quite sure it wasn't what I expected.  It left me feeling confused and muddled and I am still processing the experience.

The tour was obviously designed to be a feel good tour for visitors from all different countries and walks of life.  Because of this it seemed to be a narration of omission and careful word choice.  There was so much that struck me.  First of all, humorous stories of Martin Luther King Jr. were shared while there was no mention of Malcom X.  The guide used phrases like, "we want you to feel safe" when referring to places where we could disembark.  We stopped at the Apollo Theater as white tourists flocked to take pictures with a young black woman who was near the site, possibly assuming she was their very own Harlem souvenir.  The guide nonchalantly pointed out new businesses near the theater like MAC cosmetics and the Young Cinderella Beauty shop (let that one sink in for a minute).  When we went by public housing his word choice was very interesting as he described the wonderful new housing being built in the area, neglecting to mention that it was a result of gentrification.  When we went to the church we were seated in a roped off area as if watching a play and were not to mingle with the congregation.  I had very mixed feelings as I watched the service and was ushered out after only a few moments.  I understood that this church was being supported financially through this partnership and it was able to then carry out its work but at what cost?  What was accomplished?

I find that as I grow older I have far more questions than answers.  I don't know the answers to all of the questions this tour surfaced for me.  I do know that the tour continued on and my daughter and I excused ourselves and walked to a subway station and went on our own way as we quietly contemplated the experience.

For me, the defining moment was when the tour guide spoke of growing up in the Bronx with his sister and how they played on the fire escapes and then realized the fire escapes were their lifelines when buildings were on fire in the 80s.  He said that the new buildings had beautiful big balconies but he would prefer a fire escape for safety and preservation of life.  As he was speaking of this very thing we drove by a public housing building.

Something is missing.  What do we value?  Who do we value?   None of these buildings had visible fire escapes or big lux balconies.  The juxtaposition for me was so palpable. 

I don't know what the point of this blog post is for me really.  I'm still puzzling through all that I experienced and felt and processing anger and guilt and sadness.  I'm wrestling with my own history, growing up in a family with many prejudices.  In fact, the building pictured had what my grandmother would have called a "lovely view of the river" when referencing how people in public housing complain too often about their circumstances.  I'm reeling over recent acts of violence taking lives of mothers, fathers, children, grandparents.  I'm tearful as I watch children plead for the return of their father or mother as we take action against illegal immigration in our country.  I don't have the answers.  I don't know how we promote equity and how we fix race relations and I'm astounded at how far we have to go in our country.  I can sit in my little bubble and pretend that things are so much better than in the past but when I step outside into the bigger world and open my eyes my heart is broken.  

I have no answers today.   I only know we can do better.  

I know I can do better.  

We have to do better.