Wednesday, October 28, 2015 // The Statement
6B
Guilt of getting out
by Amanda Allen, Assistant Photo Editor
ILLUSTRATION BY JAKE WELLINS
A
s a senior in high school deciding on which uni-
versity to attend, I only had one non-negotiable
criteria: must not be near home. I’m from Flint,
Michigan, and as I say to people who may not know
about the reputation of Flint, it’s like a smaller version
of Detroit.
As Wikipedia describes it, “Flint has been ranked
among the ‘Most Dangerous Cities in the United
States,’ with a per capita violent crime rate seven times
higher than the national average. The city was under
a state of financial emergency from 2011 to 2015, the
second in a decade.”
Despite living on the outskirts of the city in the sub-
urbs (let’s face it, in the white-flight areas), the effects
of living in a low socioeconomic and potentially dan-
gerous area infiltrated my life. My high school had
the classic “the gym teacher is also the art teacher”
kind of conundrum. My family had to drive out of the
way to the next town for groceries because slowly but
surely the stores around us closed. It was either that
or go to the store in the “bad” part of town.
In high school, I had the feeling that I had to get
out now, or I thought that I never would. I knew I could
save money by going to one of the local colleges or uni-
versities, but I would still be in the same disadvantaged
area. I saw no future for myself in Flint. I saw living in
fear of walking out of a grocery store at night, as my
grandmother was when she was thrown to the ground
and robbed. I saw laughing off another homicide in the
news with uneasy apprehension.
But, like Detroit, that is not the whole story of the
city. I don’t want to paint Flint as a city devoid of
anything positive — that wouldn’t be fair. There is
definitely good, as all of my friends at University of
Michigan-Flint, Kettering University, Baker College
and Mott Community College (all in Flint!) can attest
to. There is the Flint Cultural Center, which provides
great art, music and theatre community events and
education. There is the Flint Public Library with all of
its glorious books. Downtown Flint is beautiful, with
its iconic iron archways and brick lanes lined by his-
toric buildings.
Flint just wasn’t for me, though. Despite the good, I
felt the negatives overshadowed it. It didn’t help that
there is a strange complacency, at least in my commu-
nity, that “this is how it is and this is how it will always
be.” People shake their heads at the violence yet just
turn the channel when they’re tired of hearing about
this week’s shootings rather than doing something to
combat it. I didn’t want to be OK with simply shrug-
ging these things off and tailoring my life to avoid them.
Even though Ann Arbor may physically be only an
hour drive away, it feels like another world. Like other
first generation students and those from lower socio-
economic areas might feel, university life was strangely
foreign. Supported by a single mother, I struggle with
having less capital than the general U of M population
(sorry friends, $50 is nowhere near “cheap” for me) and
feeling generally unprepared. I remember in the first
few weeks of college being so impressed and intimidat-
ed at the way that people articulated in speech, even
in everyday conversations, that I was afraid to speak at
all.
One friend, who attended the same high school as me
and now also attends the University, once expressed
that she felt guilty for leaving so many friends behind
to deal with Flint and its hardships. This sentiment
surprised me, as it was something I had honestly never
thought of. It stuck with me, and I realized it was a
great way to articulate a feeling I couldn’t pin down.
A feeling that had me caught between never really
wanting to go back but anxious to reach out to friends
in Flint dealing with broken families. A feeling that
made me wonder why I chose to study international
issues at the University rather than focus on serious
issues right in my backyard. It was guilt for not doing
more with the resources I have now. It was guilt for
complaining about all of this when I wasn’t from the
“real Flint” and subjected to gang violence and serious
blight, which are very real things for a lot of residents.
It was guilt for getting out when others couldn’t.
However, I can’t feel guilty for the privileges I’ve
been afforded. I should not feel guilty for doing what’s
best for me. With luck and a whole lot of scholarships,
I am very happy to have been provided the opportunity
to attend this amazing university in Ann Arbor. I feel
so confident and safe and I’ve made the best of friends.
I commend all who stay in Flint, doing good works and
trying to move the city forward. I commend all of the
hard workers in Flint, just trying to make a living and
make a good life for themselves and their children. But
for me, I think leaving was one of the best decisions I’ve
made for myself.
Even though Ann Arbor
may physically be only an
hour drive away, it feels
like another world.