Crossing the Street

“If I were walking down the street at night and you or Kendall were walking behind me, I think you two should cross the street.”

That’s what one of my favorite teachers in high school said. She was a middle-aged white woman with a personality that made her appear much younger – we’d often start our classes by discussing her concerns with new wave feminism, whether chivalry is paternalistic, or something in that vein. Everything, clearly, was open for discussion, but for her to tell the only black boys in her class that they should cross the street when walking towards her at night was completely obscure. She would later go on to (sincerely) say that her statement isn’t limited to black men, but all larger males (Kendall and I were the biggest kids in our class).

I remember being appalled by this. I was upset she would say such a thing and then vehemently defend it. Although she didn’t mean for her directive to deal with race, at its core her argument says that people who could be a threat have the burden of signaling that they are not. But what distinguishes a threat? Someone being bigger and taller could easily be replaced with black or Latino, if that argument were valid.

I wrote an op-ed for WUPR earlier this year about Kajieme Powell and, as I promoted it, often talked about starting a conversation. However, as John McWhorter, a professor of linguistics at Columbia University, said on NPR, “No one really wants to have a conversation.” Think about everything that has taken place in Ferguson, Staten Island, Cleveland, and elsewhere and all of the conversations (whether at the lunch table or through protests and demonstrations) that have surrounded them. Each is filled with one group trying to impress their own views upon another.

“If you don’t think Darren Wilson was guilty by law, why should they have sent him to trial?”

“If Eric Garner would’ve listened to the police, he would still be here.”

“Darren Wilson had no business killing Mike Brown.”

“Mike Brown stealing and bullying that guy had nothing to do with him being killed.”

We’ve all heard something to this effect, usually followed by “you’re racist” or “you’re a raging liberal.” Just like my response to my teacher’s comments, do those get us anywhere? Except for the most extreme invective, there’s some validity to practically every argument. Eric Garner should have listened to the cops and obeyed. Mike Brown shouldn’t have stolen anything. Yet, Darren Wilson and the officers in Staten Island should have shown a greater appreciation for life and have not murdered those young men.

We draw our lines in the sand and refuse to move an inch and this is because our conversations force us to. He’s guilty or innocent. It was right or it was wrong. When we ratchet up the dialogue to absolutes, there’s not much room for compromise. What if our conversations turned into questions of how to make sure this situation, something that we all are troubled by, not happen again? How do we make our society better? These questions require us to not focus on the other, but also ourselves. Both parties have some skin in the game of determining the outlook of the future and both parties are accountable in producing that better future.

Last semester, after cramming for finals in Bauer Hall, I was heading to the Village to grab something to eat. Walking on the sidewalk along Snow Way, I was approaching a girl who was walking by herself with no one around. I thought of what my teacher had said. Why should I have to cross the street? Maybe if I just keep walking, I thought, she’ll learn –if she doesn’t already know – that guys (especially black ones) aren’t worth fearing. Yet, I also thought about my little sister. Should she ever have to be afraid walking on a street, even if the guy is harmless? If I were a girl, hearing all of the statistics about sexual assault would make me fearful and I think I’d like not having to hold my breath every time a guy walks by when I’m alone. So, I crossed the street. She, of course, simply kept walking, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t even notice my change in course.

See, the tough thing about taking accountability with your role in making society better is that it may be completely unreasonable. I still disagree with my teacher. Still, I refuse to live in a society where girls like my sister have to ever be scared of walking by themselves at night. I am not going to be so stubborn to not cross a street if it could potentially ease someone’s concerns. I don’t think my crossing the street is the long-term solution, by any means. Yet, it is something I can do to produce whatever little change I can.

When I told my teacher about my newfound habit of crossing the street, she opined that I should yell out and verbalize why I am crossing the street. Given that I’m not completely socially inept, I don’t think that will be a viable option for me in the future. But I am going to continue crossing streets in more arguments I may enter and I hope others will join in.

But what if others (particularly the other with whom I’m having a conversation) don’t join? A key concern is definitely whether or not the other side will see their own accountability. Unfortunately, it can’t be guaranteed that they will step into the street. I’d like to believe that both sides in any argument are acting practically, playing a game of chicken instead of causing imminent destruction. But perhaps taking responsibility for your own impact upon the future could be a strong enough signal that would get them to do the same. And even if they don’t, I think you have to ask yourself: is society better if you stay put or if you cross the street?