Sunday, December 16, 2001
Bridging two worlds
Blacks in the burbs see dream's dark edge
By Kevin Aldridge
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Growing numbers of Greater Cincinnatians are living in two worlds — a “white” world where they choose to live, and a “black” world defined by their heritage and skin color.
African-Americans who live in Cincinnati's suburbs are trying to reconcile the best of both — while realizing they don't entirely fit in either.
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Gary Hines with his daughter Brooke, 9, at home in West Chester.
(Glenn Hartong photo)
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To many, the benefits of suburbia — a nice house, a big yard, low crime and decent schools — are weighed against a potential for hostile neighbors, racial slights, feelings of isolation and pressure to fit in.
“For some blacks, moving to the suburbs can be a dream come true and a nightmare all at the same time,” says Anthony Robinson, an African-American financial planner living in predominantly white West Chester Township.
“It's a very delicate balancing act.”
An Enquirer poll of racial attitudes in Greater Cincinnati reveals that suburban blacks, in many ways, more closely mirror their white neighbors than they do blacks who live in the city. They place top priority on quality schools and improving urban sprawl. They feel safer in their neighborhoods. Like their white neighbors, most black suburbanites are very satisfied with their overall quality of life.
But suburban blacks also identify strongly with African-Americans living in the city. They're less trustful of police than their white neighbors, and they're more concerned about racial profiling and job discrimination. They rank improving race relations as a top priority.
Understanding the pressures is increasingly critical as more African-Americans move into the nation's suburbs. One in four suburban residents in America today is a minority, up from one in five a decade ago, according to the U.S. Census.
In Greater Cincinnati, Forest Park and Springfield Township each is home to more than 10,000 African-Americans. Large concentrations of blacks also live in places like Lincoln Heights, Hamilton, Fairfield and Mount Healthy.
But for the most part, African-Americans are few and far between in Cincinnati's suburbs. A black family may be the only one on the block.
In dozens of interviews, African-Americans said suburbia generates its own problems, including feelings of guilt about moving away from inner-city problems.
“Black or white, I think people owe it to their families to do the best they can do for them,” says Gary Hines, a 53-year-old consultant who also lives in West Chester Township. “African-Americans shouldn't have to feel guilty about the choices we make, so long as we keep a social consciousness about ourselves.
“We all want to change some of our inner-city neighborhoods, but to what level do we want to sacrifice our families to accomplish that?”
Fitting in
Many blacks lured from cities by the leafy cul-de-sacs and amenities of the suburbs discover a hidden, psychological cost, beyond the dollars and cents of pricier homes.
“It's not a matter of white resistance, but more a matter of blacks never feeling like they belong,” says Dr. Vincent Parillo, author and sociology professor at William Paterson University in New Jersey. “Even though race isn't really played up a lot in the suburbs, it still continues to be a dividing line.”
It can be as frustrating as having to drive for miles — usually back into the city — to get your hair done or to buy makeup and other products. Most beauty shops in the suburbs don't staff stylists with expertise in black hair. Even black dolls for little girls can be hard to find.
Cynthia Finchback-Hines, an African-American who has lived in West Chester Township for 11 years, recently went shopping for a black angel to top her Christmas tree. She ended up driving 15 miles to Forest Park — a predominantly black suburb — to get one.
These subtle, day-to-day challenges are hurtful, and they lead some African-Americans to believe there are whites who don't want them “to feel too comfortable” in the suburbs, she says.
“You know there is something not quite right, but you can't quite put your finger on it,” Mrs. Finchback-Hines says. “And because of that, blacks do a lot of beating up on themselves. They ask, "Was I being overly sensitive or paranoid?'”
Dick Yost, white owner of Yost Pharmacy in Mason, says black neighbors shouldn't assume malicious intent. He says he doesn't carry African-American hair-care products in his small store mainly because of lack of demand and because he doesn't know what black customers want to buy.
“Where do we get that education? I guess we have to rely on our African-American customers to come in, and if they don't find something they want, ask us to order it,” he says. “And like all my customers who make requests, I'll go out of my way to get it.”
Joe Taylor, a 53-year-old Mason resident, has lived in the suburbs most of his life and says even long-time suburbanites deal with issues of race daily. A next-door neighbor in Fairfield once organized a block party and invited everyone on the street but him.
Was it because he's black?
“That's the first train of thought that enters your mind,” says Mr. Taylor, a distribution manager for Miller Brewing Co. “Why else would I be excluded? You never really know, and that sort of thing eats away at some blacks over time.”
Still, he says, you can't generalize about suburbs. He has lived in mostly white communities where neighbors spoke to him every day, and communities where people didn't speak to him at all. He's still not sure if those neighbors were slighting him — or if they just were unfriendly types who didn't speak to anybody.
“Because there are fewer of us, blacks have to open up a little bit more” than whites, says DeShonne Jackson, 28, an African-American financial investment manager from Colerain Township.
He grew up in a predominantly black neighborhood in Louisville, where he seldom saw or interacted with whites. But when Mr. Jackson attended the University of Kentucky, he realized he had to get over the culture shock and learn to function in a predominantly white surrounding.
He went out of his way to speak with whites and even changed his speech patterns at times.
“Blacks use different language when they are around each other,” Mr. Jackson says. “It's risky to use that language in the presence of whites because they might misinterpret what you are saying or just not understand it at all. So sometimes we have to speak differently because we don't want to be misunderstood.”
Adds Mr. Taylor: “You may act one way in order to assimilate in that environment, and when you get home you can relax and be yourself. Blacks are able to maneuver in and out of both worlds.”
Altering one's demeanor to fit in has been a matter of survival for blacks for centuries. And that's hard for whites to understand, urban and ethnicity experts say.
“Too many whites assume that blacks who move to the suburbs will be "white' in the way they behave,” says Robert “Chip” Harrod, executive director of the local chapter of the National Conference for Community and Justice.
“African-Americans may have arrived economically and can afford to move to the suburbs, but the prejudices of which all persons of color suffer will still apply.”
Staying connected
Maintaining connections to the larger African-American community is perhaps even more daunting for black suburbanites.
Many reconnect with inner-city blacks through volunteer efforts, sports, community events or church. Mr. Taylor, of Mason, attends events like Ujima, Juneteenth and the Black Family Reunion. His family drives 30 minutes to attend a mostly African-American church in Forest Park.
He also invites his city friends to the suburbs.
“When I feel the need to be around black people, I go to the places where black people are,” he says. “When I moved out here, my intention was not to separate myself from other blacks.”
African-American suburbanites say such deliberate efforts to stay connected are especially important for those raising children in nearly all-white school districts.
White culture, history and social ideals are so predominant that it's easy for black children to “lose sight of who they are,” Mr. Hines says.
“For some (black) kids out here, if they were thrown into a situation with a lot of African-Americans, they would have just as much culture shock as some white kids.”
Some suburban blacks form community support groups with other African-Americans to take part in the “black experience.”
In Centerville, a suburb of Dayton, a group of African-Americans started The Children's Club for black, school-aged children. It has become a social outlet for the parents, too, says Angela Gray, a 41-year-old member.
The Hineses started African-American Families of West Chester Area initially to meet each other and socialize. It quickly turned into an advocacy group that works closely with school and elected officials on diversity, recruitment and training issues. The 100-member group also donates two $500 college scholarships annually.
Future prospects
Despite the barriers, more blacks will continue moving to the suburbs in the years ahead, bringing more of their African-American customs and values with them, urban experts and demographers say.
“Most blacks moving to the suburbs look for the best house for the best dollar,” Mr. Hines says. “Then, once they get it, they just hope and pray there are some other black folk around. Most of the time there are not.”
And therein lies the challenge.
Whites typically become uneasy when the minority population in their community hovers between 10 and 14 percent, says Dr. Parillo, the author and sociology professor. At that “tipping” point, white flight is most likely to occur, he says.
Likewise, African-Americans feel uncomfortable when there are only a handful of black families in their neighborhoods. When minority population levels dip below 10 percent, Dr. Parillo says, many blacks opt for upper- and middle-income black communities.
Mr. Taylor says droves of blacks moving to the suburbs may not be the answer, either.
Existing city communities could become as alluring as the suburbs if African-Americans worked harder at eliminating crime and drugs, revitalizing abandoned buildings and vacant lots and improving schools, he says.
“When you've got that kind of foundation in place it doesn't matter where you live or what color you are.”
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