This portion of "How to Live in Detroit Without Being a Jackass" is excerpted with permission.

Part 1 of this series is here. Tomorrow: We call out five examples of jackass behavior.

By Aaron Foley

Conversations about race in Michigan, and especially in Detroit, are all based around what’s convenient for white people.



Aaron Foley: "So much of the conversation about Detroit has been led by people I don't know or recognize." (Photo by Devon Turchan )

The Mackinac Policy Conference is held at a resort in a hotel, far away from Detroit’s problems. How are the people there supposed to talk about Detroit’s problems when they’re so removed from it?

More often than not, it seems the proposed solution for white people’s problems—be they problems that impact white people directly, or problems with other racial groups that have ripple effects on whites—is conversation.

Now, I’m a cynic and I’m a skeptic. Maybe I was born with these characteristics. Or maybe they just came to me by circumstance. Being born a minority in this country and realizing your stance later on makes you this way. But here’s how these conversations typically go in Detroit:

There’ll be a panel discussion hosted by savvy urbanites, where the panel talks about their experiences. Concerns are aired, but often ignored. Actions rarely result from these conversations, it just makes people feel good that they tried to make an effort. Once these conversations are over, they are forgotten. And it’s easy to remain cynical and skeptical.

Too much cynicism and skepticism can be dangerous, though. They are useful traits to have, but when they cloud your sense of optimism, you can easily find yourself living in misery and wondering how you got there.

I did have an unexpected but fruitful conversation with some-one recently. We’re friends, we both live in the city, and we both ultimately want the same thing from Detroit: for it to be a functional, fun place to live. The thing is, we didn’t even set out to talk about Detroit. But you know how it is when friends talk, the conversation can go in several directions.

It’s not that I don’t talk about Detroit in real life, it’s just that my friends and I are often so cynical and skeptical. We’ve all seen it all before: broken promises from politicians, false starts in the economy, putting faith in this store here or that restaurant there. And sometimes talking about Detroit can be tiring.

But now that it’s starting to feel like things are—finally!—changing for the better in Detroit, this conversation felt oddly optimistic, something I hadn’t felt in so long, I actually walked away feeling refreshed. We talked about our personal lives and ambitions, and how they are both tied to the future of the city. Not once did we talk about moving elsewhere, as so often is the case when younger Michiganders start talking about where they’ll be in the next few years. No, we both saw things on the horizon that would make us want to stay.

We were honest, which is necessary. And we were realistic. We both know functionality isn’t coming tomorrow. But we both kept saying, “Man, in a couple of years . . .”

Without taking an official census or survey, I can guarantee that there is no one in Detroit who wants things to stay the way they are. Little old women do not wake up and say, “You know, I really hope they don’t tear down that abandoned house that’s now a dope house.” No one ever says, “We don’t need better schools and police.”

And no one ever says that Detroit doesn’t need more people. Depending on your figures, the city is anywhere between 60% to 80% occupied—both figures way too small for a 139-square-mile city, seeing that there is not a large enough population to support the services that are needed for this land mass.

No Detroiter turns their nose up to new business, either. Everyone here might not have sophisticated financial acumen (I certainly don’t), but people do realize the basics of what investment brings. Some may look at new business as slowly restoring an eroding tax base, and some may have a more simplistic view of having a new place to patronize.

But I can guarantee that what every Detroiter wants is a chance to be heard. . . .

By sharing the stage, and sharing the microphone, we all have a chance to express ourselves. Share our fears, our doubts, our hopes and our wishes.

Sharing and listening is what can make Detroit better—on both sides. But it’s better if that’s done in a close setting. Maybe that’s why I’ve been cynical and skeptical, because so much of the conversation about Detroit has been led by people I don’t know or recognize. But once you sit down and talk with someone and have that real dialogue, there’s absolutely nothing like it.

© 2015 by Belt Publishing. All rights reserved. Excerpted with permission.

► Tomorrow: Five of our jackassery nominees and an invitation to share yours.

► Part 1: A conversation with the author.

► Buy the book: It's $20, with free shipping, from the publisher here.