There are certain parts of town we all know to stay away from. And even if we don't know the exact streets, most of us get bad vibes around certain parts of town and know to drive or walk another way if we come to it.
The hood of Jackson, MS if often mentioned in the same breaths as hoods like the 9th ward in New Orleans, North Philly and Newark, NJ. Read below the fold on how I escaped possible robbery/murder in the hood, and what I took away from it.
This last election day, I stood in pouring rain holding a candidate's sign with a South Jackson native, who told me countless stories of how rough it was growing up in the hood. He told me he's seen friends of his shoot complete strangers in cold blood. Not out of hatred or prejudice, but because they needed money to eat and pay bills.
A job for those folks was out of the question given their previous criminal records. To make money in the hood, he and his friends sold drugs and committed petty theft. And if they were shot at, they shot back. If white folks walked into the hood alone, those living there assumed we had lots of money to spend and were looking for drugs. Essentially, prime targets for robbery. And if someone desperate for money is desperate enough to pull a loaded gun on you to get it, they'll shoot you without a second's thought if you don't have money. Robbers see that as a sign of disrespect- if someone gets stuck up and doesn't give them anything, they get killed on pure principle.
Now, Jackson really is starting to come together thanks to the work of community organizers working in the heart of the most impoverished and crime-ridden areas, but walking the streets at night can still be pretty dangerous if you're by yourself, white, and on the wrong end of the city. There's a long way to go.
Fairly recently, I was walking to a discussion about racial reconciliation in Jackson. I was by myself. Wearing a blazer. Walking with an unhealthy amount of swag for a 23 year-old white boy in the hood. I parked on Farish Street, and started to walk up Church Street to Mt. St. Helms Church on Church Street, just two or three blocks away on the corner of Church and Lamar Streets.
Not more than 100 feet from my car, a homeless man walks up and asks me for money. I tell him I only have a 20. He begs again. I open my wallet and show him its contents; a single, crisp 20-dollar bill. The homeless guy takes my twenty, thrusts five crumpled singles into my hand, thanks me and walks away. I shrug. The guy needs it more than I do.
I continue walking, and get to a particularly dark part of Church Street. there are no street lights. I see three guys standing in front of their cars on the side of the road, looking at me. I feel bad vibes everywhere. I know I shouldn't be here. I know walking up this street by myself is a bad, bad idea. I give them a nod and a polite wave and walk on. A few seconds later, I hear a voice behind me.
"Yeah, your white ass BETTER keep walking."
I didn't turn around. I didn't run. I didn't even quicken my pace. I just focused on the street just a block ahead of me, where there were streetlights and traffic. I walked with determination and paid the man behind me no attention.
Then I see someone come out of the shadows up ahead. I hear the guy behind me again.
"Hey, ROB that bitch!"
The man quickens his pace and walks toward me. I start evaluating my options. If they approach me and don't pull a weapon, I'll talk myself out of it. If they do pull a weapon, I'll throw them my wallet and run for it.
To my right, a man comes out of the shadows, walking quickly and directly towards me. I now have three potential assailants converging on me from all directions. All I have is five crumpled one-dollar bills. Just as they start to approach and I prepare to bolt, I see a JPD patrol car roll down the street just ahead of me, shining a bright white light from the roof of the vehicle.
The man in front of me suddenly diverts his path.
"Man, I ain't gonna rob him. He's po-lice."
I breathe a quick sigh and continue walking. I hear the man behind me speak for the last time, loud enough for me to hear.
"Yeah, you right. Ain't no white boy gonna come up in here by hisself like that unless he's po-lice."
Now, I'm like most 23 year-olds; we love to talk smack about authority, especially police officers and how much we hate to have them hassle us. But I'm convinced that were it not for that officer driving by, I'd be a news story instead of a living, breathing human being writing this piece. Maybe The Almighty was watching over me that night. Maybe it was karma for helping the homeless guy just a few moments before. Maybe I was just lucky. But I'm alive, and I thank my lucky stars that JPD happened to drive by at that exact moment.
I know there's a fiscal austerity commission telling us that the government can't be spending as much as it is. Mississippi and other states are looking at crushing budget deficits in the coming fiscal year. Gov. Haley Barbour has told state agencies here to expect at least a 10 to 15% reduction in budgets for FY 2012.
But if the Mississippi Department of Public Safety took a 15 percent cut and the JPD had to lay off police officers, would there be a patrol car to scare away potential attackers from a lone traveler like me walking the streets at night?
As much as we all may like to talk smack about the government, we NEED the government. We need it for our roads, our courts, our education, and especially our safety. We simply cannot afford to cut government to the bone any longer when so much depends on it.
I know raising taxes is never a popular subject, especially when statewide elections are on the line. But I know if I was a rich person depending on the government for police, fire and public roads like every other Mississippian, I would be BEGGING Haley Barbour to raise my taxes if it meant folks wouldn't get killed on the street because of a lack of patrol cars.
How about it, Mississippi? What'll it be in FY '12? Do we want Blu-Ray players and Applebee's gift cards, or do we want a government with enough resources to provide for its taxpayers?