About that “Don’t go” advice . . .

I have lived in Chicago for more than 35 years and have volunteered with Chicago Greeter for nearly half that time. Purportedly I know the city well. Actually I know only the lakefront from the South Loop to the Evanston border. There are many South and West Side neighborhoods I’ve never been in. 

You know why if you’re a Chicagoan. The South and West Sides are reputedly unsafe. I’ll go to their tourist attractions when public transportation or a car drops me at the door but otherwise stay in my comfort zone. 

When I heard about the book Don’t Go: Stories of Segregation and How To Disrupt It, I wanted to know what the authors have to say to well-intentioned people who perpetuate segregation by staying away from “dangerous” neighborhoods overwhelmingly populated by people of color.  

Don’t Go features two dozen interviews that Englewood artist Tonika Lewis Johnson and University of Illinois at Chicago sociology professor Maria Krysan conducted with Chicagoans who defied don’t go advice. The interviewees spent extensive time on the South or the West Side, some working and living in those places. They all reported that the areas aren’t hellholes but communities where ordinary people go about their everyday lives. A comment from one is typical: “Over time, following trip after trip where nothing bad happened, my perspective started to change.” 

By avoiding the South and West Sides, people deny themselves the experience of knowing more than half the city. But it wasn’t primarily for the enrichment of white people that Johnson and Krysan wrote Don’t Go. Branding a neighborhood dangerous harms its residents socially, psychologically, and emotionally. 

“We want to help people understand that how you talk about neighborhoods is how you’re really talking about the people who live there, and we need to stop it,” said Johnson, who was recently awarded a MacArthur genius grant. The books expands on her Folded Map Project that connected people with corresponding addresses on opposite sides of the city.

Of course I know that the vast majority of residents of so-called “bad” neighborhoods are not threatening. Media stories about crime, though, make me afraid of being hit by a stray bullet. That can happen anywhere, but the chances are statistically greater in high-crime areas.

Don’t Go left me questioning whether fear is prudent or racist. The book doesn’t get into crime statistics, and critics might argue that 24 people are too few to be a representative sample. After reading Don’t Go, however, I was motivated to see for myself.

Two friends and I went to North Lawndale, reportedly one of the city's most dangerous, during this year’s Open House Chicago. We were there for an event, not to experience ordinary life, but we had to walk around the neighborhood. It was calm; I wasn’t afraid. The energy and dedication of the people involved in two projects, the Farm on Ogden and the ongoing restoration of Central Park Theater, impressed me. The farm not only expands the neighborhood’s access to healthy food but also provides jobs for high school students. The historic theater is now owned by the House of Prayer Church of God and Christ, whose members are working to restore it as a community hub. 

As Don’t Go says, good things are happening on the South and West Sides that we don’t hear about. I want to learn about more. I may not be ready to stroll around in Englewood or West Garfield Park, but I’m interested in events and programs. It’s a start.