These reflections, reposted from Facebook with permission, are prompted by an upcoming Detroit Institute of Arts Film Theatre program called "The Science of Grief."
It's a free, interactive event led by poet and activist Natasha Miller "to provide a safe space for people to share stories about their grief." Presentations and attendees' testimonials will span 14 hours overnight, "the period in which grief takes its greatest toll."
By Marsha Battle Philpot
(aka Marsha Music)
I know about grief. More than some, less than others. Detroit is a city full of grief; this is a region of grief.
Last year, I spoke at the inaugural event of The Science of Grief. I talked about the existential grief of Detroiters, the mourning of loss of home, and even the loss of the city itself, for those driven across 8 Mile -- in the early years, because of real estate and development vultures, later, because of crime, and diminished quality of life and education.
It usually doesn't show up as grief, for the sorrow is often buried under layers of race hatred, contempt for Detroiters, anger at the loss of what was. But at its core is grief.
Marsha Music: "Many of us lumber under the weight of too much pain."
(Facebook photo by Brenda Hall)
Many see photos of the Detroit that was and say: "That's so sad" or "isn't it sad what happened in Detroit?" Although these responses can seem banal, they express a sense of loss and grief.
'Uprooted from their legacy'
But do they feel sad about when it all started, their parents and grandparents running from these amazing Detroit homes, who couldn't get out fast enough, couldn't run far enough, listening to real estate agents and neighbors and their cries of "get out now, the blacks are coming!"?
Is that not sad too? Their progeny, for generations, uprooted from their legacy in Detroit?
I am increasingly limiting my use of the term "white flight," because individuals and families did not just "flee." Nor did they "abandon" the city. They moved, as families do, for reasons individual and personal -- even if underscored by racist campaigns to entice them away, aka blockbusting.
Whites, in the early, post-World War II years of transition, did not flee of their own volition. They were driven out of Detroit -- by the terror instilled by developers of the suburbs, neighborhood groups and the real estate companies of the time; by the racist practices of the federal government in housing; by a host of factors that accelerated development across 8 Mile.
Who "abandoned" Detroit was not white people, but corporations -- the big companies that made the decison to allow civic economies to virtually collapse upon their leaving. Characterizing the leaving of whites as "flight" has been another way to point blame at the people of Detroit for the decimation of the city -- in this case white people, rather than the forces that converged in order to make billions of dollars from the shift of the city's population across 8 Mile.
Wrestling with failure and guilt
The resultant collapse exploded through the generations that were left. There's grief at seeing one's neighborhood fall apart house by house, despite all efforts by the good folks there. There is a deep sadness, largely unexpressed in community with others, about the devaluing of homes that were left behind, sadness over the losses of homes -- through foreclosures and fires (the latter, I experienced), grief in the coping with life without water and heat -- the collective nightmare of much of residential Detroit.
We mourn, in private wrestlings with personal failure and guilt, the losses that were essentially systemic.
We grieve the loss of our children -- entire families, whole neighborhoods -- in the backwash of the scourge of drugs, now also embedded in the suburbs.
There is so much grief, masquerading as screaming bouts at gas stations, gunfights at traffic stops. Many of us lumber under the weight of too much pain. Too many funerals, too many funereal T-shirts imprinted with photos of the young dead -- for folks too young or too poor to own suits in which to attend too many homegoings, too soon.
Yes, there is much grief in Detroit, so much loss, and I commend Natasha T. Miller for reconvening this gathering this year, for the sharing of stories of grief. I hope to be there, to share a story of my own sorrow, too.
► See more by this writer at her Marsha Music website.
