Today begins the long journey to Dayton, Ohio where I have recently accepted a
job. While I am extremely grateful to
have been offered a tenure-track position (especially in this bleak job market),
I am not really sure what to expect in Dayton.
I have only been to Ohio twice in my life. Once in the late 90s when I visited my
college boyfriend during his summer internship in Cincinnati and then again
when I traveled to Dayton to interview for this new job. In the past, I have generally avoided travelling
to—and through—the Midwest. If I may
make a gross generalization, I find the region oddly segregated and uncomfortably
conservative. But I am trying to remain
open.
In preparation for my move, I have been reading quite a bit
about Dayton—past and present. From what
I can gather, Dayton is a Rust Belt city that used to thrive on industrial jobs
and factory production. When the
factories closed and the industry waned, unemployment and other social problems
increased. As it has been explained to
me, West Dayton is comprised largely of poor blacks, most of whom descended
from migrant southerners, and east Dayton residents are mostly poor whites of
Appalachian descent. Interestingly,
nobody I have spoken to would entertain the idea of me living in West
Dayton. Both black people and white
people have recommended that I stay away from west Dayton. Clearly none of those people knows me very
well because I have every intention of spending time on the west side, if for
no other reason than to see what all the fuss is about.
Nevertheless, because I could not get any clear intel about west
Dayton and because I rented my new place sight-unseen (I couldn’t afford to
travel to Dayton before moving there), I have ended up renting a house in east
Dayton in a poor white neighborhood. This will be a first. Growing up, I lived in predominantly white
neighborhoods but they were solidly middle-class. Since college, I have lived in my fair share
of poor neighborhoods in Atlanta, D.C., and New Orleans. But I have never lived in a white AND poor
neighborhood. I’m not even sure I know
what that looks like. Sure, I’ve seen
South Boston on t.v. and I’ve driven through some poor white neighborhoods in
Baltimore that look straight out of a John Waters flick, but I have never
really spent time in a poor white neighborhood.
I can’t help but wonder if the existence of urban
neighborhoods that are both poor and white are products of a particular brand of
segregation that exists predominantly above the Mason-Dixon line—the de facto brand of segregation that was
not mandated by Jim Crow laws but rather shaped over time by racial covenants,
housing policies, school redistricting strategies, and unspoken social rules.
I am definitely feeling a bit apprehensive about how the neighborhood
will receive me—an educated, light-skinned black woman with dreadlocs, eyeglasses,
and an attitude that is slightly west coast casual with a tinge of urban
disinterest and
flavored with southern
style and manners.
I can’t decide if I
should try to ingratiate myself to the neighborhood by smiling politely and introducing
myself to the locals or if I should mean-mug everyone I see, openly wield my
machete in the front yard, and play the role of the crazy black lady living in
a white neighborhood.
It’s hard to tell yet.
Statistically, things seem a little rough in east
Dayton —violent crime is high, property crime is high, and unemployment is
high.
When I google-earthed (yep.
I used it as a verb) my new neighborhood, I
saw some tough looking adolescents who were clearly stalking the Google van as
it went by taking pictures of the neighborhood.
I doubt they were stalking the van
maliciously.
It seemed that they had no
idea what the Google van even was.
Either way, it’s no good.
Despite my apprehensions, I am trying to remain open and
slightly hopeful about moving to Dayton.
The city has a surprising amount of culture—a ballet, a philharmonic, an
opera, an art institute, and countless festivals are among the most evident
cultural elements. And did you know
there are more than 70 miles of bike trails in Dayton? I sure didn’t. But as a budding cycling enthusiast, this is
great news to me. I guess I will have to
find out everything else when I arrive in Dayton in a few days.
Right now I am about to hit the road in my 2002 Toyota Echo—just
me, my dog, and my incredibly supportive momma.
First stop on our road trip to
the Midwest? Vegas baby!!
