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.

