I live in West Oakland. Crime-ridden, poverty stricken, roll your windows up and hide your cell phone, West Oakland. Or so goes its reputation. People have been shot here. Pit bulls abound. All the cats in the park have yellow eyes. There are OMG — drug dealers and prostitutes and chain link fences. Oh yes, and it is mostly a Black neighborhood. It is seemingly a very inappropriate place for a woman such as myself — white — to walk through. I am not even live-in-black-neighborhood-white. I do not own a hoodie. I wear pencil skirts and heels. I fully admit that I don’t really like most hip-hop or reggae. I do not ride a bike.

I am instead, part of that wave of folks forced to re-locate across the Bay due to extravagant San Francisco rental prices. I have lived in many a ‘ghetto’- Felony Flats when I was a teenager, the Lower East Side (Losida for locals), before Moby moved in, the Caribbean part of North London, the once Mission — so moving here was not a wholly new adventure but still I was surprised to discover that I am usually the only white person walking around. Sometimes I am the only person, especially at night. When I discuss my walking habits, I am most often informed that I am being ahem, unwise. I have been frequently cautioned, “you could get mugged, or shot…or worse”. It’s true. These things could happen. But they haven’t. Quite the opposite has occurred. Little girls have complimented me on my dress, old men regularly wish me a good afternoon and I get friendly nods from women watering their garden. Even the sketchy dudes on the corner, who may or may not be dealers, don’t harass me as I walk past. From them too, I get a ‘how’s your evening going?’. Once, a man actually apologized to me for peeing on the street, (having witnessed copious amounts of public urination, including that of my French husband, this particular bit of civility was astounding).

Far from feeling threatened, many people in the neighborhood have explicitly let me know that I am safe. I am appreciative, it can be daunting being new to an area, particularly one with so many desolate spaces. I am often entirely alone on stretches of streets that hold empty lots and abandoned factories, windows that flash blue T.V. screen light and raccoons shuffling through overstuffed garbage bins. It is also important to point out that West Oakland is, aside from the Downtown area, largely a residential neighborhood where the boom of automobile bass mingles with the noise of sprinklers and gas powered weed wackers. Some of the residents have lived here for three generations or more and as a result, saying ‘hello’ to your neighbors is the done thing. I like it.

Not only have I not been attacked because of my whiteness, I have also been protected by it. I am an apartment renting, no children to raise, non-church going, stranger and as such I occupy that liminal space of being seen but not relevant. Another reason is that the consequences for crimes against a white person are potentially higher, it’s fucked up, but true none the less. Which brings me to a much deeper and more disturbing reason for all this that goes beyond simple friendliness to an outsider.

One night while walking through the Acorn Projects, an entire family moved into the street to let me pass by on the sidewalk. It was then that I realized how profoundly aware most black people are that white people are scared of them. In an article in the Daily Intelligencer Ahmir Questlove Thompson, drummer for the Roots and the bandleader on Late Night With Jimmy Fallon, entitled Questlove: Trayvon Martin and I Ain’t Shit wrote,

“I’m in scenarios all the time in which primitive, exotic-looking me — six-foot-two, 300 pounds, uncivilized Afro, for starters — finds himself in places where people who look like me aren’t normally found. I mean, what can I do? I have to be somewhere on Earth, correct? In the beginning — let’s say 2002, when the gates of “Hey, Ahmir, would you like to come to [swanky elitist place]?” opened — I’d say “no,” mostly because it’s been hammered in my DNA to not “rock the boat,” which means not making “certain people” feel uncomfortable. I mean, that is a crazy way to live. Seriously, imagine a life in which you think of other people’s safety and comfort first, before your own. You’re programmed and taught that from the gate. It’s like the opposite of entitlement.”

That Thompson, even with his fame, has this experience only serves to prove how insidious is this fear. It is the reason that *Trayvon Martin died. It is also the reason why Zimmerman was not convicted for his crime of murder. Fear of ‘blackness’, especially ‘male blackness’ is so imbedded in our culture that it distorts actual facts and continues to re-enforce segregation, economic disparity and blatant, flat out racism. It also gives those areas mostly populated by non-affluent black people an underserved characterization. The investment in the mythology of, “the dangerous black neighborhood” is so pervasive it has spawned former NYC Mayor Bloomberg’s “Stop and Frisk” policy that specifically targeted Harlem and the Bronx, has justified unequal district zoning and helped to bankrupt Detroit. But on a personal level, it is a mythology continuously fueled by the stories that people tell.

Examples of these tales erupt as soon as I try to challenge the idea that Oakland is not a virulently dangerous place: “someone I know was raped there, shot because of cross fire, mugged in broad daylight, car stereo stolen 3 times in one week, etc..” These stories are not fictions but as a Dogwood bar regular recently said, “Cities are cities. Cities are dangerous”. It is not that Oakland doesn’t have its murders and cell phone thefts, it is that its criminal activity is not as astronomical as many people think.

In the last week of August 2013, the Crime Map provided by the Omega Group, reported 2981 crimes in San Francisco compared to the 558 crimes in Oakland. Given that there is a significant population differential (about 400,000 Oaklanders compared to 815,000 San Franciscans) and the fact that SF also has more tourists, (always a favorite target those), these are surprising numbers. There are some things that affect this. Oakland currently has less than 900 cops to police the entire city and so many crimes go undocumented. There is also a different perspective about reporting crimes as many people do know their neighbors and might hesitate to report on someone’s brother, cousin or upstair’s tenant. Add to that a general distrust of the effectiveness of the Oakland Police Department, the number of crimes reported is not wholly indicative. But, even with accounting for these factors, one might assume, logically, that it is far riskier to roam down Market street than West Grand.

But that is usually not what I hear when I hang out with other white people. A fact humorously called out by Sussu Laaksonen in her Myrtle Review article, Top Five Reasons Why West Oakland’s image is More Dangerous than the Reality,

“Reason #4; There are several Whitey Castles, ie. loft compounds with locking gates whose inhabitants never leave the confines of their castles on foot, believe their San Francisco friends about the terrifying things that happen “out in the ghetto” (direct quote from inside castle walls), and then repeat it as if it’s the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And thank God for those gates. Except OH MY GOD THE GHETTO PEOPLE CAN CLIMB OVER THE WALLS! As we speak, the building of a moat and the installation of vats for boiling oil is being discussed on at least one Whitey Castle email list.”

It’s not just fear that inspires these stories. Laaksonen also writes that reason #3 for the mythologizing is, “it’s vital to the self-identity of the Burner Art Geek Man-Boys that they live in an Extremely Dangerous Urban Mad Max Wasteland, and the Self-Identity Protection Shield they have built from Steampunk recycled metal parts prevents them from seeing the working class and middle class families and schools and churches.” True, oh so true. The complexities of how entire cities — Oakland is still often awarded the distinction of being the 3rd most dangerous city in the United States — continue to be deemed “bad” goes far beyond the issues of gentrification.

Michael Males, author and senior researcher for the Center on Juvenile and Criminal Justice in San Francisco who has long been engaged in proving that young black males are not the terrifying population they are so often accused of being, writes that, “America’s warped crime and social policy establishment badly needs black youth to be killers and thugs, to retreat into the comforts of 1990, nostalgia for a past that never existed, and smug, politically and fiscally profitable prophecies of demographic doom”. It has been argued that the American economy actually depends upon a racial idea of criminality, particularly in regards to privatized prisons. It also sells papers and music and movies. This is an issue worthy of its own article but for the purposes of this argument it is important to state that some media corporations actually profit from projecting an image of ‘Dangerous Blackness’.

* Blackrock and Vanguard Group Incorporated are large stakeholders in Viacom and Time Warner. Media companies who are also two of the largest stakeholders in the the GEO group, a privatized detention facility (um, meaning prison) that reported a total revenue in 2011 of $1.6 billion.

Stories of violent black men is something we have been fed for years via newspaper headlines, Internet Alerts and inner city riot coverage. Writes Males, “the media loves to re-enforce ideas of adolescent superpredators,” teenage “sociopaths,” murderous gangs marauding from inner city to suburb to Mayberry, and an ever worsening “crime storm” of dark-skinned zombies slavering to “murder, rape, rob, assault, burglarize, deal deadly drugs, and get high…so long as their youthful energies hold out.”

In the 90’s, when I lived in New York, there was the tale that went around the bars and cafes and dinner parties about a new kind of gang initiation. “Don’t tell the time to a young black man”, we were told, by Everyone. Why? Because you might get slashed in the face with a box cutter. I never actually met someone this had happened to and yet, for years, people continued to spread the tale.

This urban myth held sway despite the fact that according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics, “for the period of 1980 to 2008, a majority (53.3 percent) of gang homicides were committed by White offenders.” writes Kush Azreal in Call & Post. “In 2011, there were more cases of Whites killing Whites than there were Blacks killing Blacks. However, the mainstream media obsesses over Black on Black violence and rarely mentions the problem of White on White violence. These statistics have not led to a media outcry about the problem of White on White crime or the unique pathology of the White community. Nor has the White community stood up to demand change in their community like the Black community does when trying to tackle instances of Black on Black crime.” Azreal goes on to say, “When was the last time you’ve seen on the news, discussions about a White-gang problem?”

Before I risk sounding like an overly idealistic Pollyanna, there is certainly crime in Oakland, graffiti proliferates, thefts are common and on sunny afternoons there is a thriving illegal drug trade occurring from car to car. It is also true that homicide rates in the city, having hit an optimistic low in 2010, are again on the rise and tragically some of these homicides have included children. It is a very serious issue for residents and a problem worthy of government and community investment but Oakland is not a war zone. Those loud bangs in the night are usually caused by fireworks — not guns.

Previously quoted author Michael Males told me via email, “I’ve lived in inner city and mostly-minority neighborhoods most of my life, and I’ve not only lived to 62, I’ve never felt seriously endangered. It is true that those involved in, say, organized criminal activities have always faced serious threats of violence, but the danger to the average citizen even in the gun-happy United States is vanishingly low. Based on crime statistics, suppose a time-liberated George Zimmerman had spotted two 17 year-olds walking thru his neighborhood—a black youth of 2012 and a white youth of 1959—which should he most suspect of criminal intent based on “statistics”? The answer is that both have equal odds of committing a criminal offense; though the larger answer is that he should fear neither one of them… In fact, this generation shows by far the lowest levels of these offenses, including homicide, in half a century and perhaps ever.”

This information also surprised me. I am not immune to racially based fear. In 2004, I house sat for friends in Oakland. It was my first time there and I was told that this street is good and that way is bad. But that way there was the swimming pool. So one fine summer day, towel slung over shoulder, I walked that way. Upon arrival, I saw seven young black men hanging out. Seeing them made me nervous, wary, tight lipped and tense walking. Passing through, one of the young man left the group and approached me. “Are you going to the pool?” he asked. I nodded, preparing to run. “Unfortunately its closed today for cleaning but let me get you a schedule”. Which he did. Yeesh. I felt like such an asshole. Not because I had been afraid, (being female in this world is no joke), but of why I had been afraid. I was afraid because people had told me to be afraid and I believed them. Would I have had such an issue if it were seven white kids hanging out. No. Even seven Chicano kids. Nope. I was afraid because they were black.

It is right about now that many reading this will start to go, “but, but, but…”. I am not advocating a rejection of street smarts. I once pushed a man — in a wheelchair — out of my apartment building. My inner red flags started going off when he asked me what apartment I lived in and I began to wonder then how a man in a wheel chair was going to get anywhere in a five flight walk-up with no elevator. When he started making weird comments about my ass, out he had to go.

While walking, I don’t gab on my phone loudly about last night’s fun blithely ignoring shadowed spaces and cars that slow down for no obvious reason, (in fact, I tend to leave my phone in my purse). If I get a weird vibe from someone, even at a distance, I’ll cross the street, turn a corner I don’t need to turn, light another cigarette and take out my keys even though I am blocks from my house. Alertness, listening to our instincts, a few handy self-defense tactics and being able to run well, even in heels, are always good skills to cultivate regardless of which neighborhood we find ourselves in.

Street smarts are vitally important but even when totally rocking the fierce road warrior experience, shit happens. I have been mugged. It is not fun. I still have scars on my leg from when I was dragged halfway down the block by three men. I have also been groped, chased, stalked and had my apartment burglarized. Numerous friends have been attacked and one was gunned down in New Orleans. I am not being frivolous about the fact of violence. Violence, in any form, is awful. But again, cities are cities, they have their rot and their turmoil. As long as there continues to be gross imbalances between those who have and those who have not, there will be theft. As long as there continues to be profound power imbalances between the sexes, there will be battery and sex crimes. As long as there is great hardship, there will be rampant addiction. All of this we need to devote ourselves to changing but it starts first with examining our most primal and subconscious attitudes.

Because mythologizing the “bad black neighborhood” also has palpable affects for all concerned. The very least of which is how this denigration affects local businesses. There is no grocery store near by.

I do go to my local corner store for essentials which has resulted in an amusing ritual where I buy one of the few bottles of refrigerated non-sweet red wine and they, with elaborate gestures, wipe off the mold and dust for me. Red wine, you see, is just not popular around these parts. That is not important.

What is important is the far more serious consequence of the mythologizing — it encourages those politicians, bankers and corporations who claim that those areas largely populated by black people are blighted urban wastelands unworthy of cultivation or funding for community services. It fuels ignorance and the perception that poor black people are either monsters or victims, or both. It divides.

To be fair, it is not just white people who tell these stories. The ‘Ghetto’ can be a challenging place for anyone, despite color or affiliation. Some of my people of color friends hail from the serene suburbs, environments that are usually not populated by pimps or pitbulls. An added caveat is, because of the color of their skin, Oakland can be more threatening, like I said, I have the experience of being slightly ghostish. Not always so, these friends, who often encounter assumptive behavior or commentary that I will simply, never experience. I will not be confused with so and so who ratted out so and so and shot at. I am rarely flirted with in an aggressive way. I am also not at risk for being harassed by the OPD. But even with all of that, the way that they talk about living in Oakland has a very different quality. There is a recognition of possible danger, methods told of how to keep safe and a few experiences of, “this is what happened to me” offered, but the tone is different. There is no subtly imbedded, ‘us versus them’. They do not tell me not to walk by myself.

But why should one who is not of an idealistic bent — basing behavioral decisions on principle — defy racist stereotyping and boldly venture across Lowell park? Or to be more blunt, why should the average white person care? Because ultimately, this mythologizing makes all of our lives more dangerous, not less.

First and foremost it creates tension. Gentrification is a bitch and like that bitch who steals your parking spot can provoke, if not outright aggression, at the very least retaliatory outrage. Poverty is not inherently criminal, ( I should know as I have lived within its margins most of my life and have managed not to carjack someone), but reacting against poverty by concocting barricades contributes to the very issues that cause our fear in the first place — access to legitimate resources and funding for schools, anti-violence programs and employment opportunities.

And then there are the personal consequences. Being told that a waitress was raped downtown a few years back does not make me safer, especially as there was nothing she could have done, she was getting into her car near the restaurant. Instead, it merely makes me afraid and being afraid can actually make us more vulnerable. Fear is like perfume to a predator, just like dogs, they can smell it on you. It also makes us uncertain and therefore less able to have a quick response and all on its own, it can act as an instigator. Certainly, the problem with violence is that it only takes that one time but we cannot live our lives in fear of that “one time”.

Driving through the neighborhood may lessen your own personal risk but it also means that you don’t really see the neighborhood and more importantly, the neighborhood does not see you.

This is why we need to walk. With our feet we can come to understand the tenor and character of where we live, improve our inner risk sensor and enjoy our streets. And….our collective humanity actually depends upon it.

Or so say I. As a willful kind of feminist, a confirmed urban dweller and a lover of those unexpected moments of transcendence that can only happen when we step out of our comfort zone, I made a commitment long ago to refuse to make decisions based on fear. I will walk home through the Tenderloin at five in the morning and stop to dance with a few folks playing Ray Charles on their transistor radio. I have made a pact with the night time devil and will risk what may come. As much as I would like to advocate that we all do that, it is unrealistic. I am, admittedly, potentially a fool or a fanatic. What I can advocate for however, is that we all become more conscience of how fear functions in our lives.

Because ultimately, this is not just about safety. I love this city. Oakland rules. It still has ice-cream trucks and old brick and functioning factories that would have made Kafka swoon. I love that my eighty year old neighbor regularly hangs out with his friends on the corner, sitting on lawn chairs, talking and playing cards. I love that people call out to each other from porches and often, unabashedly, sing out loud. The check cashing joint pumps out tunes for the populace and wild vegetation abounds. There is art in some of the graffiti and lives are being furiously and beautifully lived in every corner. I feel honored to be a part of it.

The other night, while walking back from a friend’s house near the old train station, I fell in love with this beautiful bit of American landscape all over again. The air was warm and a gentle rain fell as I walked by jasmine bushes and bougainville, old houses with the friendly sag of having been long lived in, messy gardens and old hardware stores turned homes. At a cross walk, an older black man driving a shiny, tricked out 1968 Cadillac De Ville stopped at the light. As I passed him, he suddenly sneezed. “Bless you”, said I. “Thank you” said he. The light changed and off he drove. A subtle breeze blew across the road and I, continued on home.

This was published before the protests and the terrible truth, at last, being reported in the media, about about all these black men who have been killed by cops. I am connected with organizations in Oakland who can help with these issues and fight for change. Or just a general kind of change and honor. Send me a message via Facebook. Love, Ginger. https://www.facebook.com/OakCenter?fref=ts