Spooks from Detroit

Ever since I saw CNN's "Black or White: Kids on race" I have been disturbed.  My wife and I weren't surprised by the test results.  We've been living with them for the last ten years as we watch our children interact with others.  The results confirmed why I established Black Children White Parents.  We continually need to develop awareness, sensitivity and skills to ensure that our children grow up to be confident, proud and happy Black adults.  What disturbs me most is that our youth grow up to be adults with their biases amplified unless somewhere along the line they have an opportunity to embrace diversity rather than fear it.  My fear is that these opportunities are seldom seized upon.

An example of subtle racism that we experienced from dear friends is found in Spooks from Detroit.  I would appreciate hearing your thoughts on this essay.  Erich

Spooks from Detroit


Erich Ditschman


copyright 2007


I was recently at a holiday party with some close friends. This is a group of friends whom for the most part I met in middle school. We have stayed close through these many years. We share similar backgrounds having grown up in a working class predominately white neighborhood of a Great Lakes small city. Because of this I wasn't shocked with what I heard at the party, but rather saddened.


One thing that I have learned over the years is that my experiences may change me but they do not necessarily change those around me. I know, it sounds like a simple concept, but when you feel like you've become a better person than who you were - you just seem sure that it must have rubbed off on those that you love. But, I now understand that while I'm having my life changing experiences often times others are having their own life reaffirming experiences.


So there I was at this intimate gathering of four couples and their children ranging in ages from two to twelve. I'm the Godfather to two of the children. This is a tight group. We had wonderful food and exchanged small Christmas gifts with the kids. We cranked up some vintage Gloria Estefan and limboed and played musical chairs.


Later I found myself in a conversation with one of my friends who happens to be a Sheriff's Deputy talking about a dueling piano bar that we had gone to together many years earlier. It had been a birthday party for five of us who happen to have May birthdays. We did a pub crawl in our old home town and had a fabulous time. He mentioned that there had been a number of shootings at the bar in recent months. Until now shootings were unheard of in this downtown. When I asked what seemed to be going on there, he responded, “Spooks from Detroit.” Just to clarify, my friend wasn't talking about the BBC television show or anything else about spies. He was using a derogatory term for African-Americans. And as he said this my two and one-half year old beautiful black princess ran up to me dark curls bouncing and said, “pick me up, Daddy.”


Well at this moment there were many things I thought and many options I had concerning what I would do next. Now having been the father of African-American children for seven years one thing I have learned is to control my emotions. Of course instinctively my first move is to protect my precious children. But I've learned that calling someone a racist asshole just isn't going to help the situation. It certainly won't protect my children nor teach him or her what they will need to flourish in society.


It won't help them in a society that is so wrapped up in the concept of equality that it cannot look past the end of its proverbial nose. The good people of Michigan recently passed Proposal 2 “The Michigan Civil Rights Initiative” which bans "programs that give preferential treatment to groups or individuals based on their race, gender, color, ethnicity or national origin for public employment, education or contracting purposes.” Now I'm no scholar on this issue. My take on it is that of course the good people of Michigan do not think anyone should be given preferential treatment due to the color of one's skin. I'm certain like my friends at the party, most of the good people believe in a just color blind society. They believe that if you work hard, no matter who you are, you can succeed. The protestant work ethic is the backbone of the Midwest.


But what the good people fail to phantom is that the parents of the grandparents of some of my contemporary Michigan residents who are African-American were owned by the parents of the grandparents of my contemporary Michigan Caucasian residents. I understand that Michigan was not as slave owning state but many southerners both black and white migrated here to work in the auto industry. You don't need to be a student of history to appreciate that it is nearly impossible to go from being owned to being the owning class in four short generations without violent revolution. And in the U.S. Case, the violence wasn't in support of revolution rather in subjugation. With the race riots in Detroit a mere 40 some odd years ago, the good people of Michigan want to say we are all the same, “just pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps. Give us all a fair break and things will work out for the best.” To tell my good friend that he is a bigot, while perhaps the first thing to come to my mind, was not the road I chose to take.


My first response was to just pick up my daughter as she requested. My friend's wife was there as I did this and she was again telling me how she thought our daughter was so beautiful. My friend the Sheriff's Deputy smiled as she said this. I know that he agrees. What I quickly realized is that he doesn't see my children for who they are – black children who will become African-American adults. Adults that if he met them late at night at the dueling piano bar without my wife or I present could easily refer to them as “Spooks from Detroit.”


I didn't say anything that night to my friend. I still consider him my friend and this is the conundrum my wife and I have. Whether they be our friends from the old neighborhood or new friends that we've met in liberal East Lansing who also have been found to inject a racial slur in conversation; racism while perhaps subtle is pervasive among the people we come in contact with. While I've never thought of myself as racist I sure own up to racist behavior in my youth. For example I didn't understand where the term came from but when I was young growing up in my predominantly white neighborhood and someone yelled, “nigger pile,” I joined in yelling the same as I dove on top. Now I cringe whenever I hear the term. I discuss more of my own enlightenment in my essay My Babies Have Brown Eyes and Kinky Hair (see earlier post). Subtle or not, I don't think one can be a little racist. Either you are or you are not. But, I do believe one can become enlightened and change as a result.


Perhaps for some this is a no brainer. Jettison the racists. Well in both mine and my wife's case that would mean breaking relationships with a number of relatives as well as many friends. People that we have a unique and tolerant history with. Tolerance is necessary for any successful relationship. For example, we have come to learn to appreciate many of our Republican friend's finer qualities holding them as dear friends despite their political affiliation. But, the roots of racism travel to the core of the human condition. It is much more basic than allowing for differing political views. It is one man looking at another and thinking “you are beneath me because of the color of your skin.” What is often subtextual to this thought is “the color of your skin and the history that is represented by it.”


I do believe that we are able to change our views and as a result our behavior toward others. However, I think often many change their behaviors without having the requite change of view or change of heart. By changing only the behavior one can often convince oneself that being a little racist is alright as long you hide it from those that may be offended. You know, save it for when you are with those that might appreciate a little off-color joke. The recent celebrity racist outbreaks of Michael Richards and Mel Gibson are public examples of how one can't pretend not to be a racist. Given the right stress even the best of actors will unveil what is on the other side of the political incorrect colorblind curtains often drawn tightly by many people of goodwill. In certain situations they will act in response to their true heart.


At the time of my conversation of the shooting at the dueling piano bar, with my daughter held tightly in my arms her brown eyes sparkling and wide mouth full of teeth smile, I felt like I shouldn't have to say anything for it must be plainly obvious to my friend that what he said was incredibly racist. It did occur to me that as a Sheriff's Deputy he may use a diversity of derogatory terms for people conducting criminal behavior. I could easily see it being a coping skill necessary to have to go out every night an put himself in harms way to protect the public. But, even so, it doesn't justify the use of racist terms. There is no place to draw the line, one can't be a little bit racist. However, pointing out the obvious just seemed like a way to ruin what up until then was a spectacular evening. He and his wife were the hosts of the party.


I hope my daughter's timing made it obvious to my friend. Because I know that it wasn't obvious that when I looked over at my seven year old son I was imagining him at twenty-one entering the dueling piano bar late at night for a drink and being seen by one Sheriff's Deputy as a potential target. Being there at the party was all that I offered to hopefully help change one person's view. Being a father to my beautiful African-American children and helping them be the best people they can be is what I can offer as my part in helping to rid society of racism.