But there's nothing wrong with it at all. In fact, there's a poetic beauty in a white liberal publicly extolling the virtues of diversity and the promotion of Black-Run America (BRA) while privately living a life as far away from blacks as possible.
|The most insane family in America?|
However, the story of Robert King of the Indy Star provides insight into the mind of a white liberal Amy Biehl's parents would recognize. Any white person who would voluntarily put their family in danger would immediately have their children taken away by Child's Services in a sane society, but in Black Run America (BRA) King is praised as some sort of hero. [Kings of Indy: Why we're leaving the suburbs and moving to the Near Eastside, Indy Star, 5-22-2013]:
My introduction to the Eastside came nine years ago when I was still living in Florida. My wife and I were contemplating a move to Indianapolis.
The advice, from the Floridians we knew that had friends and relatives here, was simple and unanimous: Avoid the Eastside. It’s no place to raise a family. These were well meaning folk – people looking out for us, sharing what they knew of the city where we were about to relocate.
And eventually, more because of the natural currents that carry middle class families to “safe” neighborhoods with reputable schools and “resale potential” — we landed safely in the suburbs, Center Grove, to be precise, just outside of Greenwood.
Now, almost nine years later, my wife Tammy and I – along with our three daughters — have made what for us is a dramatic move, and one not easy to explain to our fellow suburbanites. We’re moving to the Near Eastside.
The neighborhood we’re leaving is in many ways the suburban ideal. We lived on a cul-de-sac. Three of our neighbors had pools. Everyone kept their lawns manicured, sometimes even me. Most people locked their doors, but it wasn’t a big deal if you forgot.
The neighborhood we’ve landed in, St. Clair Place, has a different story. There are some homes here that have been beautifully restored and some that have been well-kept by longtime residents. And there’s a sense of positive momentum from the Super Bowl Legacy project.
But it remains a neighborhood where there are several homes abandoned and the windows boarded up. It’s a place where debris sometimes piles up in vacant lots that have become dumping grounds for old mattresses and the like.
The first neighbor I met after getting the keys to our new home was an older gentleman who was picking up trash in the alley behind our house. He tried to help me with a stuck garage door.
He warned me not to leave it open, that anything of value in there would disappear. Others have told us not to leave our cute dog in the backyard — that he, too, might disappear.
Most cautionary of all, though, is the vacant lot I can see from my kitchen window. It’s where one of the most horrific crimes in the city’s history occurred – the 2006 murder of seven people in a house on North Hamilton Avenue. The house burned sometime later and now all that remains is a field of dandelions.
Into this new world, I’m bringing my wife Tammy and ourdaughters – Sarah, 16, Annie, 13, Caroline, 7 -- and a dog named Davy.
The obvious question, of course, is why? Why move here? Why choose the uncertainties of a neighborhood with a mass murder scene as its landmark over suburban comfort?
There are lots of reasons. Some are practical, some philosophical, some spiritual. And comfort is a contributing factor.
Over the past nine years at The Indianapolis Star, I’ve written plenty about challenges facing the city – poverty, homelessness, failing schools and, yes, crime. I even wrote a story about the murders on North Hamilton Avenue, talking to people in the neighborhood a year after the tragedy occurred.
I’ve written about schools where fights were a plague and kids were afraid of getting “jumped” at any moment. I’ve written about a homeless man who fell to his death while camping out in the balcony of a Downtown church. I’ve written about a young couple who moved with their four children into a motel room as their last stop before the streets. I’ve written about young people killed in city parks during midnight gunfights.
Each time, after documenting these things, I would get into my car, drive past the ring of decay that surrounds Downtown and weave my way back to the quiet of the suburbs. And I was comfortable doing that.What a hero! In May of 2014, the so-called Kings of Indy would brag about one year in the danger Eastside of Indianapolis. [Kings of Indy: At home, a year later, Indy Star, 5-19-2014]:
A brush with crime The nights are punctuated by noises that are very often nothing more than fireworks, but that more discerning neighbors say also sometimes include gunfire. To date, we haven't caught a whiff of violent crime.
But the crime stats tell me that within a mile of us there have been shootings and stabbings and robberies. More common to our street are burglaries. We had one last summer that cleaned out our garage.
Neighbors said it was our initiation because it happens to nearly everyone. Over the winter, things grew quiet. But in April, when police caught a guy a few doors down trying to break into a garage, folks here likened it to the daffodils — a sure sign of spring. A year ago, I said we didn't come here to try to change the world, but to come alongside folks in the community.
I think we've made good on that. You can't turn around here without finding some place that could use a volunteer. But it's also clear that what matters most to people here is that you just be a good neighbor. What's also been clear is that the Near Eastside has changed us.
We think a lot more about how we live and how we live our faith. We think more about where our food comes from and where our clothes are made and why it's important to shop local. We've found it helpful to discuss more deeply subjects such as race and sexual orientation; wealth and poverty; the different ways families are put together.
We've also had some sober chats about drugs and prostitution. Those talks were not always easy, but they were valuable. When we came here a year ago, we were somewhat fearful.
Today, I'd say, fear has been replaced by awareness. Living in a place that's the focus of urban renewal has been particularly instructive.
There's a concept that applies both to imperfect people and imperfect places: Instead of focusing on what's broken or missing, it can be more helpful to count your assets. What have you got that you can use to make things better?
From that perspective, an abandoned house becomes a place where a new family can live and, because of the fantastic architecture around here, it might just become a beautiful home. A vacant lot that was once a crime scene could soon become a new homestead.
People scarred by the harshest blows during a neighborhood's decline may be willing to work the hardest at bringing it back. Maybe I am naive or just plain stupid about such things. But I look at this part of the city through a different lens now. If that means I'm wearing rose-colored glasses, so be it.It's now been two years since Robert King voluntarily moved his family from the comfortable white suburbs of Indianapolis into the heavily black - and crime-ridden area of - Eastside Indianapolis.
So it's about time for an update, right Mr. King? How's life in an area known as one of the "killing fields" of Indianapolis? [Kings of Indy: Two years in, life on the Near Eastside is nuanced, Indy Star, 5-16-15]:
Two years later, I'm here to report that we've not only survived, but my little family is very happy here.
What's more, we've doubled down on the Near Eastside: We've put our kids in the public schools. Our two oldest daughters, Sarah and Annie, are about to complete their first full year at Tech.
That's right, IPS. Next year, out little Caroline will enroll at a charter school in our neighborhood, the Paramount School of Excellence. And she can't wait. This year, Sarah and Annie entered an urban high school, where they were just two of 1,750 students.
They have encountered kids at Tech who have no interest in school, who seem on a mission to disrupt class. And they've shared classes with kids headed to the Ivy League. They've enjoyed their walks around what's probably the most beautiful, most historic campus in the city. And they've learned to identify the smell of marijuana smoke, which rolls out of certain bathrooms like a fog.
They've had great philosophical debates with other smart kids about life and politics and art and music. And they've heard the F-bomb aplenty. Heard the N-word in casual conversation. And they've learned to deal with it.
So have their mom and dad. (In my case, one of their black friends used the N-word in casual conversation, while I was giving him a ride. I nearly slammed on the brakes and called a timeout. Instead, I opted to let the moment pass. My daughters and I had a healthy discussion about it later on).
That episode reflected a new reality for us. About two-thirds of the kids at Tech are black. About one-fourth are Hispanic. Only about 10 percent are white. For the first time in their lives, my girls were the racial minority. Sarah was the only white member of Tech's gospel choir. Annie is one of only a couple of white girls on the softball team. And it hasn't been a big deal.
They have friends who are black, white, Hispanic and Indian. It's enough to make you hopeful about the future. Some of the kids are middle class like us. Many are struggling to get by. The greatest segregation seems to be between the kids who take school seriously — who are striving for college — and those who aren't.Oh my God! A black kid said nigger and a white liberal almost got in an accident!
What's frightening is more and more of those white people promoted in Black-Run America (BRA) are committed white liberals like Robert King, who would rather sacrifice his children to the Moloch of Perpetually Uplifting Blacks than raise his children in the safety and serenity of an all-white environment.
Search the archives of SBPDL -- Indianapolis is proof those white conservatives believing Republican rule will keep a city safe from the rising tide of color are 100 percent false: without a black population, there'd be virtually no crime, homicide, or nonfatal shootings in Indianapolis.
With a black population, people like Robert King can feel good about themselves when they immerse their family in the type of civilization only Africans in America are capable of creating.