Soul Detroit

Rockin' my 'Soul Detroit' in Atlanta

I made it out!

…And I am ready to go back already.

I was no stranger to bashing Detroit. I ranted about the roads, the leadership, the school system, the mayor, the taxes, the lack of city life and activities, the Lions, all of it. Everything the nation turns it’s nose up at my city about, I nodded in agreement, provided support, and repeatedly stressed how much I wanted to get out. I threw fits about how it made no sense for things to just keep crumbling down, and keep deteriorating and Kwame to keep being on the nightly news. Detroit embarrassed me.

Well, call me a hypocrite, because I miss Detroit.

Detroit is different. Special. Home.

Most importantly: Detroit’s Got Soul. Culture. Depth.

What do I mean by culture? Culture is the feeling that connects all the people in a certain area to that place whether they are aware of it or not. Culture is the sense of proud that comes over you at mere mention of your hometown. Culture for Detroiters is “Whut Up Doe,” knowing that a “set up” can be purchased at any local Cabaret and the obvious understanding that “The D” does not refer to Dallas. Culture is saying “pop” not soda, “freeway” not highway, and “Party Store” rather than corner store. Culture is seeing concerts at Chene Park, regardless of the weather, watching the fireworks from Belle Isle or down near the Ren Cen and attending the many summer festivals in Hart Plaza, where all the vendors sell raw Shea butter and black soap, regardless of what else they are peddling. Culture is Cutters for Steak Bits (prounouced “bites” not “bits”), Eastern Market for Swordfish Steaks, Paczkis on Fat Tuesday and Lafayette Coney Island coney dogs.

Presently, I reside in Atlanta, and thus far, it has no distinguishable culture. Sure, there are cultural areas; you got Little Five points waving its rainbow flags, taunting you with well stocked beer pubs and antique thrift stores. Midtown for the artsy, yet bourgie crowd and Buckhead for the snobby elite. There are lots of other cute little neighborhoods: Downtown, East Atlanta, Decatur… But this proclaimed “Capital of the South” has almost demolished it’s history and it’s culture to lure in more attractive business residents and, of course, their money. There are no historical battles here over tearing down, and rebuilding historic landmarks or architecture. You will see brand new high rise condos across from graffiti covered warehouses. Gentrification is in your face here, and whatever soul Atlanta had is quickly becoming a casualty of it.

People don’t really care about Atlanta. They care about what Atlanta now has: Celebrities, plenty of restaurants, lots of entertainment, and money. No one cares that the layout of the city makes no sense, (the beltway is way too large and there are 71 streets with the word “Peachtree” in their name). No one cares that ATL history is packaged neatly and delivered in the digestible bits its attempts at modernism allows. The King Center, big on presentation, yet small on facts and experience, is an example of what history seems to be worth to Atlanta.

In Atlanta, everything comes shiny and new; Regardless of how old it should be.

Being from Detroit, where it feels like everything is broken, this “newness” is novel at first. Everything you see, everywhere you go, is so nice, new, and clean… But then you realize how surface the people, the places, the things are. After six months in “The A,” I understand how valuable resilience is. How meaningful history is. How much depth these things add to my interaction within a place. Most importantly, I have learned that culture can not be purchased, built, or imported. Culture has to take residence, be cultivated and grow.

Atlanta has built it’s culture. Surface, shallow, communal places that successfully communicate a certain feel, but don’t actually deliver on it. In Detroit, we deliver on what you see.

Unfortunately, that includes the poverty. You will see abandoned sky scrapers & other magnificent structures. You will see closed neighborhood libraries. You will hear about the corruption of our leaders from mayor to police chief to supreme court justices. The NAACP symbolically buried Jim crow here in 1944 and subsequently “Nigger” in 2007. We are closing and consolidating schools and even have an Emergency Financial Manager for our school system, notably the worst in the nation. Yes, our roads really do feel like cobblestone and we have “neighborhoods” with only two to five homes still standing. The decline in the economy seemed to start in Detroit about 5 years before anyone else was aware it was even coming.

Yet, we still have nice things too. Lola’s for House Music (yeah, HOUSE music) and Small Plates for Poetry. The Spiral Collective and Flo’s off Cass for unique clothing, books & products from business owners of Color. The Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History boasts not only the largest museum of it’s kind, but invites guests for intimate concerts with Eric Roberson, Anthony David or The Foreign Exchange within it’s ocular theater. Stroll through Harmonie Park on a summer evening, cop a unique Detroit T-shirt at Spectacles or have diner at The Detroit Fish Market. We have the Cuban Vicente’s, All American Bookies and my personal favorite, Centaur Bar for a tipsy Friday night happy hour. Check out Slows in Corktown for awesome barbecue and a great draught beer. Head a little further south to Mexicantown’s Xiochimilco’s or Mexican Village for authentic and cheap mexican, heavy on both heartburn and tequila. Score a Mexican Coke or Faygo from Honey Bee Market while you’re there.

We have authentic Greek cuisine in Greektown, Mediterranean and Arabic food in Dearborn, and even Polish fare in Hamtramck, (Ham-Tram-Mick).

We have culture. It’s not all brand new and made up either, so some of it looks grimy on the outside and seems to be still covered in soot from when our manufacturing mattered to the rest of the nation, (i.e. Slows and Mexicantown). When the work we did to create the middle class was praised, rather than used to embarrass us before Congress. But when you step off these patchwork streets into that seemingly crumbling structure, inside you will meet some of the most genuine and friendly people in the nation…

Business owners who chose that building because the architecture is amazing… Sturdy. Like Detroit’s residents.

We make eye contact and nod our hello’s. We know space is personal, and say excuse me if we come too close to stepping on your shoes as we pass.

Despite our many stumbles, Detroiters are proud and we believe in tradition. We were once the 4th largest city in the nation. We eat at Coney’s all year. We cruise classic [mostly] American cars down Woodward every August. We watch and play hockey. We wear the Tigers Old English D as a badge of honor. We stand in the cold for the Thanksgiving Day Parade and then rush home to watch the Lions, (whom we love to hate). We cling to our ways. It’s not our ways that have destroyed our city, so we struggle with changing them to get it back.

Sure, the names and comments hurt us. Third World Metropolis. Last one out, light a match. I used to say them. Until I moved to a city with little spirit.

Sometimes I too think I am crazy to want to go back. But the reality is, when I am in Detroit, I am home. It’s in my blood to care about the place and to do what I can to see it survive.

So it is with humility that I am seeking, with open arms, to return home and re-embrace the city that raised me to walk confidently among strangers, to speak up if I want to be heard, and to always, always, give respect where it is due. I only hope I can give to Detroit in commitment, as much as it has given to me in experience.

Amber.

Tagged as: Detroit