There’s a lot more to Ferguson, Missouri than what we’ve seen in the media. After Michael Brown was killed by a Ferguson cop, and during the uprising sparked by his death, the media swooped in: West Florissant Avenue and nearby streets became clogged with satellite trucks, police vehicles, miked-up reporters and every imaginable configuration of video recording devices—all chasing [literally] after the next police-citizen confrontation, flare-up, arrest or purported act of vandalism/looting.
But what we saw was not the full story. As has been the case ever since reporters helped stage anti-US demonstrations in Tehran in 1979–while most of that city was operating business-as-usual—what we saw of Ferguson was only a sliver of the bigger picture.
From what you were seeing on CNN and other media outlets in August 2014, you might have thought that Ferguson was burning—all of it—that the whole community was in rebellion, and even that Ferguson was just another rundown, down-on-its-luck African-American ghetto.
None of those impressions are true.
Last week, I learned just how untrue they are. [Yes, I admit that I am rather late to this party. I live just 15 minutes away, but over the many years that I have lived in my cushy, suburban St. Louis neighborhood, I’ve spent almost no time at all in the Ferguson area. ]
Last week, as part of a summer “active-citizenship, urban-discovery” program for high-school students, I organized a bus tour of the Ferguson area. We engaged a high-profile, Ferguson activist—Patricia Bynes—to be our guide. What she showed us and told us was eye-opening.
But before I share what she said, I want to note that our intent was not to be gawkers seeking “riot-porn.” We asked Bynes whether what we were planning was okay: Would we be trampling on neighborhood sensitivities? Would our presence be offensive? She assured us that we were within the bounds of propriety, because, she noted, people need to understand Ferguson. Also, she said, the issues raised by Michael Brown’s death at the hands of a police officer were not just Ferguson issues. These are everybody’s issues—society’s issues—and Ferguson is just a nearby example from which we can all learn.
And so, we boarded the bus and headed for North St. Louis County.
Along the way, Bynes pointed out many speed traps set by tiny, municipal police departments as a way of bringing in revenue to their otherwise cash-strapped city coffers. She also brought our attention to a dozen-or-so “Welcome to…” signs that exemplify the 90+ small municipalities that exist within the boundaries of St. Louis County and that contribute to many of the problems showcased by Ferguson.
Then, we arrived at West Florissant Avenue, the scene of the August 2014 uprising. And that’s when the myth-busting began. Here are a few of the surprising insights Bynes shared with us:
Graffiti: plus or minus?
We pulled over next to a boarded-up restaurant. It was covered with artful graffiti. Bynes explained that, in the view of some Ferguson residents and business-owners, the graffiti make the area look like a cliché—rundown, forlorn and hopeless. Others see graffiti as urban art—reflecting emerging, creative energy. And still others see the graffiti as rebellion against the status quo—a symbol that deserves to be preserved as a kind of “never forget” statement about what has happened in the Ferguson area. According to Bynes, the value and fate of Ferguson graffiti remains an unresolved issue.
“I love Ferguson”
Driving though Ferguson neighborhoods beyond the infamous Canfield Avenue where Michael Brown died, we saw many yard signs proclaiming “I love Ferguson.” Even these seemingly innocuous signs are controversial, said Bynes. For some, the sentiment is straight up: They love Ferguson, warts and all, and they’re standing by their city and with their city, sticking around to help correct injustices and make it a better place. But for others, the signs mean something else, said Bynes: “For some people, ‘I love Ferguson’ has a meaning that’s more like ‘I want my country back.’
Beyond Canfield, but not far away
Our bus tour taught us that Ferguson is not the burned-out, majority African-American ghetto we “saw” on CNN. We passed through many leafy neighborhoods, replete with spacious Colonial-style homes, large lots and manicured lawns and gardens. We could have been in Webster Groves, or some other well-kept, majority-white, suburban neighborhood with the occasional horse stable sprinkled in.
We also visited January-Wabash Park—a well-maintained park operated by the City of Ferguson. Watching the news coverage of the post-Michael Brown “troubles,” you’d probably never guess that Ferguson contains a well-maintained park with rolling lawns, a large fishing lake, and a big public swimming pool. Unfortunately, most of the media didn’t bother to travel even a few blocks from West Florissant and Canfield to see [and show us] the pretty parts of Ferguson, to get a grasp of the anger-creating economic disparities of the area, or to see the context surrounding the Michael Brown protests.
The “community” center
Buried deep in one of those leafy neighborhoods is the new Ferguson Community Center—a repurposed parochial school. Bynes made sure that we drove by it as part of our tour. You see, it looks like a nice place, she said, but if you don’t have a car, forget about going there. St. Louis’ Metro bus system doesn’t have a route that goes down that street. The nearest bus stop is about a mile away. It’s hard to call something a community center when a large portion of the community can’t get to it. It’s within two miles of Canfield, but it might as well be on a different planet.
Ground zero
Bynes also made sure that we visited Canfield Avenue,at the exact spot where Michael Brown died. We gathered around the recently installed memorial—a hand-drawn golden dove embedded in a section of sidewalk. The in-ground sculpture replaces the previous, unofficial agglomeration of teddy bears, flowers and notes piled up around a lamppost. We noticed the recently repaved section of Canfield Avenue: the place where Michael Brown’s body lay for four-and-a-half hours after he was killed. [His mother requested the repaving, Bynes explained.]
We could see that this was a special place—and Bynes treated it as such, talking to us in a hushed voice, and refraining from expressing anger or political opinions as we stood there. We were in someone else’s neighborhood—a neighborhood of people who have been traumatized by seeing Michael Brown killed essentially in their front yards.
She also noted that, since Brown’s death, people having been moving out of Canfield apartments in droves, some simply abandoning their apartments, even if they have to pay rent in two places. It’s just too traumatic and haunting to live there, she said.
I don’t know what our group of 15 teenagers took away from this experience, but judging from the earnest, insightful questions they asked, I’m guessing that there were probably some very interesting dinner-table discussions that night. I know that I’ll never think of Ferguson in the same media-distorted way again. And I’ll certainly be looking at future coverage of Ferguson and other “hot spots” with a lot more skepticism and desire for context.
Cost to charter the bus: $335. Experience: Priceless.