Neighbors and Neighborhoods

Yesterday, on the way home from work, I slid on a patch of ice and crashed my Toyota into a big Wisconsin snowbank. No one was hurt (except the car and possibly the snow). It was pretty embarrasing and a reflection of my vast inexperience with icy roads and winter (in the spring) driving. Although my car was perched precariously on two wheels, I managed to slip out the front door of the vehicle. It was a short wait, and standing alone I began to muse about the virtues of our neighborhoods. Did I mention that the snowbank was someone's front yard? An elderly neighbor (the owner of the house~ whose front yard was newly decorated with my black car and crumpled fender) came outside to see what was going on. He asked me if I was cold or frightened...Did I need anything while I waited for the police to arrive and determine the accident's circumstances? In a few minutes another car arrived on the scene, and the single lady who was behind the wheel asked me if I wanted to wait in her car. It was warmer than being out in the cold ~ she was kind and reassuring. Could she help in any way? Call a towtruck?

The police arrived in a short while, and the officer, father of one of my daughter's classmates, sized up the situation and gave me a stern warning not to drive too fast for road conditions. He told me to "be careful" and he hoped I'd be safe with my car in the future.

As I rode in the towtruck to a trusted automotive garage, feeling secure in the knowledge that I have good insurance and comfortable that my car would soon be repaired to perfection, I began to think about the many privileges that I~ a middle class white woman ~ truly take for granted.

How might that same scenario have played out if I were a homeless African American woman living in my car? Would neighbors have been so kind? Would a police officer give me a citation rather than a stern warning, for a fine I could never hope to pay? Would anyone have stopped their car to offer me a place to come in from the cold Wisconsin air? Would my car (no longer drivable) be abandoned because I couldn't afford to get it repaired?

The notion of stigma and fear surrounding the condition of being homeless and the notion of middle class privilege merits discussion. Who are the homeless? What were their lives and experiences before they became homeless? What will our Washington, DC immersion teach us about race, culture, and the intersection of stigma and homelessness?

The home depicted above belonged to Mary Jane McLeod Bethune (July 10, 1875 – May 18, 1955). She was an American educator and civil rights leader best known for starting a school for black students in Daytona Beach, Florida that eventually became Bethune-Cookman University and for being an advisor to President Franklin D. Roosevelt.