A couple
of years ago, I met a woman in a professional context for the first time who, after
learning that I live on the South Side of Chicago, responded that she never
goes there. “Aren’t you scared?” she asked, not waiting for an answer, before
telling me that if she has to pass through the South Side, she
goes by car. And, if it’s dark, she said, she doesn’t stop at red lights. “I
figure if the cops pull me over, they’ll understand.”
I
felt conflicting urges. Part of me, an indignant and incredulous part, wanted
to argue, to draw attention to all the riches the South Side has to offer that
she was missing. I had done this a thousand times before in similar
conversations. On the other hand, I was also weary of this kind of casual
racism. I wanted to simply shake her by the shoulders and make her see that the
invisible walls that divide our city, one of the most segregated in the
country, shouldn’t be respected. Those walls have been built, year after dreary
year, by racist policies and appalling structural violence, and they have been fortified
by the city’s residents. I wanted to upend her fortress mentality—one that
separates “good” neighborhoods from “bad” neighborhoods—and all the fears that
come with it. In the end, I didn’t do any of these things. Now I can’t even
remember how the conversation ended, but it did, and quickly. It was not a
learning moment for either of us; we both simply moved on, choosing to put our
respective energies into a better interaction.
It
is not uncommon in self-defense classes to encounter a version of the question:
“what should I do if I end up in the wrong neighborhood?” The student’s
feeling about what is “wrong”--about places and, inevitably, the people in
them--reflects the same atmosphere of racialized fear that created our cities. Biased
“commonsense,” in this case, may come to feel like intuition. What’s more, this
kind of question is an anxious one. It seeks the false stability of a rule:
“don’t be out after dark in X neighborhood, city, or country;” “don’t take public
transportation;” or, incredibly, “don’t stop at red lights at night.” So,
on one hand, the premise is not something that people committed to creating a
better urban future would want to endorse by not refuting. And, on the
other hand, the answer that it seeks—a rule of behavior based on fear—is both
ineffective and antithetical to the broader goals of empowerment self-defense. What
is an instructor to do?
One
way to reorient the student, to begin from a different starting point, is
simply not to repeat the language of “bad” and “good” neighborhoods. The
goal of empowerment self-defense is to encourage people to participate in their
own lives to the fullest and to expand their horizons. That, by definition, always
involves embracing unfamiliar experiences. Language that recreates an
atmosphere of fear curtails all of that rich possibility. Moreover, fear of
what’s “out there” shouldn’t obscure what is closer to home. We know that
gender-based violence most often happens in quotidian settings with people who
are known to the target. Quickly shifting the starting point with both language
and information can lay the groundwork for a deeper discussion.
For
over 30 years, IMPACT Chicago has grappled with how to communicate that
stereotypes make people less safe while also adding to students’ self-defense
toolkits. In the early days, lead instructors addressed the issue when setting
up verbal scenarios for the first time or when students asked questions about
“bad” neighborhoods. To minimize shaming students who said "wrong" or
"bad" neighborhoods and to stress its importance, about 15 years ago
lead instructors began to integrate their comments into the course
introduction. I asked Chicago IMPACT instructor Rachel Marro to share how this
is addressed in programs: "When teaching how to assess potential risk and
danger, we emphasize that we get the most accurate information from
someone's behavior and their response to our
boundaries. Indicators like someone's clothing, language, or which
neighborhood they're from do not give us information about their intentions.
Reorienting ourselves to pay attention to behavioral red flags can help reduce
fear about circumstances that may not actually be threatening, allowing us to
engage in the world more freely. Simultaneously, it can help us pay attention
to dynamics that may be unhealthy or threatening in circumstances where we've
been taught to ignore those red flags-- in particular, with people who are
familiar or similar to us."
This commitment to focusing on behavior and not
stereotypes is reflected in IMPACT Chicago policy about suited instructor
characters. It has long been the policy of IMPACT Chicago that suited
instructors do not play characters outside of their own racial/ethnic
affiliation.
Empowerment self-defense is a powerful
method of individual transformation. Participants can begin to relax their grip
on patterns of fear that they have learned over the years as they gain
confidence in their bodies and in their voices. They can reenter the world each
day with a greater sense of power and purpose. But empowerment self-defense
also entails a commitment to creating networks of support among all people who
are at risk for or have experienced gender-based violence. It is a social
affirmation, one that recognizes that the problem itself does not discriminate
and that the best response will crisscross the borders that otherwise divide
us.
Priya Nelson
IMPACT Chicago Volunteer and Workshop
Leader
