I moved to the Pioneer Valley eight months ago, so I still get asked, “Where are you from?” I’ve lived a lot of places — New York City, Chicago, Dallas — but I grew up in Ferguson, Missouri. It saddens me that the last city in that list is as familiar as the first three. I wish you had no idea where it was. I spent roughly half my life in Ferguson. My parents still attend church there. For me, it is neither an abstraction nor a battle cry. But at times it has felt like the media — and my friends on social media — are more interested in turning it into a cause célèbre than showing genuine concern for its residents as individuals. Shouts of “I stand with Ferguson!” ring as hollow as “Remember the Alamo!” when the person shouting has never actually stood there.
I care about racial injustice, police brutality, and systemic discrimination. I also care about a struggling town. I would never deny that Ferguson has had intractable problems for a very long time, but those problems are not unique. They are problems common to all of north St. Louis County. According to Richard Rothstein of the Economic Policy Institute, “A century of evidence demonstrates that St. Louis was segregated by interlocking and racially explicit public policies of zoning, public housing, and suburban finance, and by publicly endorsed segregation policies of the real estate, banking, and insurance industries.” The national spotlight has, perversely, kicked the community when it’s down. Since Michael Brown’s death, Fergusonians have been struggling against impossible odds to rebuild and heal racial wounds. They have held a series of residents-only town meetings on topics such as “Addressing Diversity and Racial Tension,” “Opportunities for Youth/Civic Engagement”, and “Where do we go from here?” They have a every interest in not fanning rhetorical flames because, after the cameras are gone, Ferguson residents of every race still have to live together. Unfortunately, the real flames — including those set by non-residents — are on the evening news.
What’s in a name? I don’t know much about California, but I know I wouldn’t want to live in Compton. Once a town becomes infamous, redemption can take generations. When, for example, will Detroit no longer be synonymous with urban blight? Ferguson’s infamy was unearned. In almost every way it resembles the other suburbs that surround it. Hazelwood, Jennings, Cool Valley, and Bridgeton (just to name a few) are virtually identical to Ferguson, but you’ve probably never heard of them. In the Michael Brown story, surely the most important journalistic questions are “how?” and “why?,” yet the “where?” continues to make headlines.
Perhaps I’m hurting my case by bringing this up so late. Indeed, the conversation has already begun to shift. The grand jury’s verdict in the Eric Garner case has taken some of the focus off Ferguson. Interestingly, the media did not indict New York City. When the two police shootings are rhetorically paired, they appear not as “Eric Garner and Michael Brown” nor as “New York City and Ferguson.” More than once I’ve heard “Eric Garner and the events of Ferguson.” Why? Ferguson is not so exotic. My hunch is that it is a victim of its smallness. No news organization has a bureau there. Hence it can be sold for scrap, used as an object lesson in a larger conversation.
Forget Ferguson. Imagine you never knew her name. You don’t need this F-bomb to push for social change. You don’t even need her to discuss Michael Brown. Ferguson is not ground zero for racial mistrust in America. That exists everywhere, even in the woods of Massachusetts. Every community has its own special version, so there is no reason to fixate on (or indeed scapegoat) a town you’ve never visited. There are many conversations to be had. There is much social progress to be made. Let us go forth and act in nuanced, informed ways and cultivate compassion in our own communities. That is what Fergusonians are trying to do.•
Matthew Duncan is a circus artist, musician, and Midwestern expatriate living in Montague.
