Like so many of my fellow Baltimoreans, I awoke this morning with a profound sense of loss and sadness. Given that this is the fourth case of riots following the recent, high-visibility death of an African-American held within police custody, there is growing recognition that there is clearly a deeper story to this picture.
Many Baltimoreans are saddened by these images of our city being broadcast to the world. And yet on several occasions when I meet people for the first time, they ask me "Is Baltimore really like The Wire?" My answer is always the same..."Well, there are some parts of the city like that...but there are also some nicer places too..." What I am really saying -- with a sense nervous discomfort -- is that there are some devastated neighborhoods in Baltimore, but I don't live in one of them. I live in a "nice" neighborhood.
Ursula K. Leguin's "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" is a haunting story of how many of us are willing to look the other way from peoples' suffering as long as our lives remain fulfilled and unaffected. There are many others who are speaking much more eloquently than I about the undercurrents of these riots, pointing out the inexcusable nature of the violence but also noting the seething, simmering anger that underlies it. That such anger does not pour out without a deep sense of suffering and hopelessness.
Most people in Baltimore know about the idea of "two Baltimores" -- one depicted in the aerial views of the Inner Harbor during baseball or football games and another captured strikingly in The Wire. One of the reasons I like Baltimore is its "biggest small town" nature. It is a relatively compact city where one could literally walk from the mansions of affluent neighborhoods to worn down, crime-ridden areas of town where many of us wouldn't walk at night. But where many people live everyday and try to cope. It is a city where one can easily meet a diversity of people from all walks of life. There is an opportunity to experience the stark, sincere reality of having hundreds of thousands of people trying to live together in the same space -- at least physically.
These riots are inexcusable. The rioters and looters should be held accountable. Yet if we are to take something actionable away from them, I can't help but imagine that more of us need to consider what it means to have two Baltimores within the same space.
As for myself, nothing captures this more powerfully than this screen shot:
Many Baltimoreans are saddened by these images of our city being broadcast to the world. And yet on several occasions when I meet people for the first time, they ask me "Is Baltimore really like The Wire?" My answer is always the same..."Well, there are some parts of the city like that...but there are also some nicer places too..." What I am really saying -- with a sense nervous discomfort -- is that there are some devastated neighborhoods in Baltimore, but I don't live in one of them. I live in a "nice" neighborhood.
Ursula K. Leguin's "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" is a haunting story of how many of us are willing to look the other way from peoples' suffering as long as our lives remain fulfilled and unaffected. There are many others who are speaking much more eloquently than I about the undercurrents of these riots, pointing out the inexcusable nature of the violence but also noting the seething, simmering anger that underlies it. That such anger does not pour out without a deep sense of suffering and hopelessness.
Most people in Baltimore know about the idea of "two Baltimores" -- one depicted in the aerial views of the Inner Harbor during baseball or football games and another captured strikingly in The Wire. One of the reasons I like Baltimore is its "biggest small town" nature. It is a relatively compact city where one could literally walk from the mansions of affluent neighborhoods to worn down, crime-ridden areas of town where many of us wouldn't walk at night. But where many people live everyday and try to cope. It is a city where one can easily meet a diversity of people from all walks of life. There is an opportunity to experience the stark, sincere reality of having hundreds of thousands of people trying to live together in the same space -- at least physically.
These riots are inexcusable. The rioters and looters should be held accountable. Yet if we are to take something actionable away from them, I can't help but imagine that more of us need to consider what it means to have two Baltimores within the same space.
As for myself, nothing captures this more powerfully than this screen shot:
I have been reading local coverage but this screenshot comes from the New York Times, a newspaper I read on a regular basis. The screen shot shows a church-based community center that was set on fire. But what I really noticed was the advertisement on the lower right corner.
Could there be any sharper distinction of two Baltimores? Or perhaps two Americas?
While I could jump to judging the New York Times, I realize that this advertisement is at least somewhat generated by my digital footprint. By my purchases, my choices, my links, my preferred sources of news, entertainment and consumption.
How do I reconcile the two minds that I often find myself between?
Regardless of my and others' two minds in Baltimore, I know that everyone today shares a single, collective broken heart.
