As expected, a lot of people are weighing in on American University student Marianne Johnson's post, "White Girl In Southeast" that I referenced in my post, "Minority Report: White Is The New Black (In Southeast Anyway)." People (even American University alumni) are not picking up what she was putting down.

Ms. Johnson's missive would have most likely flown under the radar if I hadn't addressed it on CHotR but it has now been referenced on popular sites  DCist.com and the Georgetown Voice. For the most part people have been less than enthused by her comments. Personally, I am curious if people are more outraged by her comments or the fact that she said them openly and online. Regardless, I am starting to feel a little sympathy for Ms. Johnson, not because I regret weighing in on her article (I would do it again)  but because we as a society fraught with stereotypes and division are producing members whose first experiences as "minorities" are in their twenties and later in life, if at all. Before we castigate Ms. Johnson too much perhaps we should look at the situation that bred such concern and fear.

For me that is what is truly tragic and that we (the collective society) should be outraged and flabbergasted about. Most minority children learn early on their place in the world is a little different than their white schoolmates. We've had to cope with a childhood spent clutching white dolls in our brown hands and wondering why our black wooly hair was less appealing than Sally's blonde, shiny locks. Many of us (meaning minorities) speak in at least two languages: the language of our peers and the language of the world. We've seen the backlash that can result if you speak your "inside voice" outside (see the backlash about  Veronica Davis's comment about black people and the cold). Maybe Marianne's biggest mistake was speaking her "inside" voice outside (and in writing) because I am sure she is not the only person who has reservations about traveling as a lone white person among Blacks. As one commenter said on my Minority Report post, "Do you seriously believe you'd be in as much danger walking though Cleveland Park as a white girl would be in Congress Height?" The perceived "danger" is real. (BTW my answer is "yes" -  Congress Heights does not have exclusive rights to the District's criminals).

It is what it is.



When I first found the article during one of my "Southeast DC" Google searches I discussed it via Twitter with fellow East of the River blogger, Mahoganie Brown of the blog, Mahagonie: Musings East of the Anacostia River. As promised, Mahoganie has penned her own piece on the matter, "What's Eating Mahoganie Jade Brown? The White Girl Reporting on the Hood." 

When you get a chance please check out her post.  She brings up some very good points.

Excerpt:

I wish Johnson would have explained exactly what it is about this part of the city that make her feel scared. Is it the people that flow in, out and around the green, orange and blue lines towards this area? The blaring cell phones that blast hip hop or R&B lyrics? If that’s the case, my main ringtone is Madonna’s “Hung Up”.Come sit next to me. Maybe it is the vibrant laughter and conversation that may seem annoyingly loud. Is it the brothers in the bow ties selling bean pies and incense?  Ever tried one? Is it black people in general? 

Regardless of everyone's thoughts of the "White Girl In Southeast" post (or race relations in general in the District) I am encouraged to see that people from all over D.C. see the importance and relevance of dialoguing about this. I've only been living, volunteering and working in Ward 8 the past four years but I am pretty sure that these types of things were mostly ignored or not brought to the attention of most District residents. True, the "attention" has mostly been online but that is a start. It gets the information to the people and we can never have too much of that.  I have been so very encouraged to see so many citizen journalists, community members and stakeholders speak UP and OUT about life East of the River.  As we share our stories I am encouraged that we are bringing a  little closer those unfamiliar with our communities (or race).  Life East of the River is just that - life. Far more unites us (or should unite us) than what sets us apart.

It's time to bridge the gap and not just that of the Anacostia River.

Let's stop being scared.