Archive for May, 2012

There is this odd thing about teenagers in Flint. Today, a group of teenagers were walking from the school bus to home behaving in very inappropriate ways like ..hitting each other with belts …and shouting while everybody in my neighborhood pretended that they saw nothing.

Yes, they were African American and yes they were not the overbooked kids (African American that have things to do and places to go). These teenagers were the ones that walk in big groups with no hurry to go home, for nothing important is waiting for them, not now, not in the future.

These are the kids that come from school without backpacks because they do not have homework to do nor plans for the day. You have seen them wondering aimless to boredom, for nothing in the streets, nor nature, good either  take them out of their reduce, limited life that is to be  poor teenagers in Flint, Michigan.

They were shouting and teasing to each other in abusive ways and nobody in the neighborhood- African American families, or white families dared to say a thing to them. Yes they were also using the word nigger to each other and nobody (except me tried to talk them out of that…Why?)

Because this is the transparent population, the one that if they are boys would end up warming beds in jail and make salaries for an entire industry, and if they are girls they would work in fast food or clean offices at night or have babies.

Does it have to be that way? I do not think so, and that is why I stopped and tried to make them reason.

They do not have to be in the box that society put them, the one where nobody have expectations of them because they are poor and ignorant, and may I say black? They are the ones schools care little if they go or not to school, if they learn to think and questions, or not because we in Flint do not have answers for poverty. We hide under pretense and if we can we move to other suburbs, not to be bother by them.

Why is like that we treat the poor population of teenagers in Flint the same way we treat trash, “that thing” that we know is there but one day is out of sight out of mind in the land fields?

Yes, Flint does not know what to do with the poor population of teenagers because they are not the cute little poor kids that you felt sorry and bought toys thru the Salvation Army Christmas tree list during the holiday season. No, these are the children that have absorbed the abused way we and all the adults in their lives treat them. And they are obnoxious and angry and disrespectful. These are the kids that vandalize the park, litter the streets and shout to each other. These are the kids that paint the walls with graffiti and listen also to loud obnoxious music.

What are we planning to do with poor teenagers in Flint Michigan?

As for me, I will continue seeing them first,  try to approach them and make them think that they have a choice. They can be abuse to each other, they can feed the machine that feeds the industry of the poor in Flint, they can be abuse to each other or they can dare to ask for more.. I hope to be the voice of dissent in their life, because there is another future one in which they could demand from adults to provide the meaning things that they need to become productive citizens of our society.

Poverty is not a destiny even if everybody wants to keep you in that corner. You could say NO.

So, please if you see a poor teenager from Flint do me a favor treat them like you would have loved to be treated when you were young, like a capable, valuable, and amazing human being.

And the interesting thing is that because I behaved like a frustrated mother and told them that there were other ways to treat each other, they paid attention. I know that although they found me strange with my accent and words, they also found me different because I dared to treat them like human beings that exist, deserve attention and because I have high expectations for them… after all what teenagers need at these age is to matter to somebody..and I could be the Mott Park lady as they call me and that is OK.

Thanks

Marta