Mary Mitchell

"Shhhhhh," I hissed loud enough to get my son's attention.

We were trekking east on 18th St. on Saturday evening, making our way to the city's annual "Venetian Night" celebration. The chatter from our group, which included four excited children, was a bit over my comfort level. Funny thing is, I doubt I would have felt the same way had we been walking in the area surrounding Washington Park.

"Venetian Night" wasn't on my summer-to-do list.

On a simmering evening, I usually head for a festival in Washington Park on the South Side. But I decided to join my son and his family at the downtown event touted as having fireworks that are better than the display the city puts on for the 4th of July.

Earlier in the day, it seemed like a good idea to take the small barbecue grill, some burgers and hot dogs for the kids, and set up a picnic in an area where we could view the parade of boats. But as the time got late, I started fretting over the barbecue grill.

I know the protocol at Washington Park. Heck, you can bring the barbecue grill, tent, boom box, and dining room table if you want to, and nobody bats an eye. But is that the way they do it at Grant Park?

Even though my son assured me that it was perfectly O.K. to bring a barbecue grill, I wasn't convinced. It didn't help that we were sweating down 18th Street dragging a huge cooler, chairs, charcoal, blankets, picnic baskets and the mini-Weber.

By the time we got to row of expensive Dearborn Park townhouses, I was feeling ghetto.

Hence, the "Shhhhhh."

That was all my son needed to break into his best Dave Chappell imitation of "Negroes" trying not to offend "White folks," as he tipped down the sidewalk pulling the cooler.

My: "what will white folks think?" is a habit I learned from my father. He always worried about how his children were perceived, and he especially didn't tolerate our talking loud or acting a fool in front of white people.

Of course, no one was paying us any attention. The few whites we ran into smiled politely and went about their dog-walking business, and the lone black woman we encountered stopped only long enough to ask what was going on.

And you know what?

The first thing we saw when we got to the park behind the Shedd Aquarium was a white man happily barbecuing.

Posted by Mary Mitchell at 05:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBacks (0)

Having read every comment posted on this site, it's clear to me that most of us are frustrated when it comes to race relations.

For the most part, the majority of you are willing to express that frustration without resorting to nasty insults. Despite our reluctance to talk face-to-face about race, even people who said they didn't want to have this discussion posted a comment. What does that tell you?

Still, in order to have a real conversation about race, we have to be clear about what racism is and what it is not.

The tragic beating of Ryan Rusch in Beverly Park seemed a logical point to jump start this conversation.

Whether or not the Cook County State's Attorney's Office charged the three teens accused of brutally beating Ryan with a hate crime isn't the issue. Race is involved simply because this is not black-on-black violence. If it was, most of you would not have heard about Ryan. So that's the first thing we've got to get straight.

What role, if any, do you think race played in how this crime was covered by the media?

In other words, had Ryan been beaten up by white teenagers, or if he had been a 14-year-old black boy who was attacked by three black teenagers, would this have been front-page news? And if you believe race was a factor in how this crime is being covered, is that racism?

A reader who sent me an e-mail about the recent murder of one of his students certainly believes it is. Alexander Reed, 18, was gunned down in a South Side neighborhood while standing on the porch at his sister's house.

"There was some type of altercation in the street and one young man pulled a gun. Alex was not involved in anyway, but he was the one who got hit," the teacher said. "He was in his senior year in high school. It just seems to me that something should have been said at least on TV, a 10-second spot or something."

In this reader's eyes, the lack of attention by media "devalued" his student's life.

"I looked at it as being racial," he said in a telephone interview. "I feel if he was white, more attention would have been paid to it in the media. I honestly believe that. Just like the young man who was driving the car that got hit by the U-Haul Truck " (Chicago Sun-Times)

As a member of the media, I've seen how these decisions are made., and I can honestly say most of what readers complain is racist, is actually insensitivity bubbling up under deadline pressure. My point is, every offense isn't necessarily motivated by racism.

So what is racism.?

Give me an example of a racist act you experienced, or an incident where you were accused of being racist. And I'm not talking about slights that ticked you off, such as being passed up by a cab or being followed around in a department store. I'm talking about those times you were convinced beyond a doubt that you were being discriminated against because of your race.

And white people, you need to come clean.

Blacks are often accused of seeing racism everywhere--a mantra that a lot of Latinos are beginning to pick up--but many of you don't see racism at all. If you do see it, you fail to acknowledge it has a negative impact on our quality of life.

Thank you for taking the time to have this chat. Unfortunately, I'm unable to personally answer every comment from readers who have a bone to pick. But you can still drop me an e-mail at marym@suntimes.com.

Posted by Mary Mitchell at 12:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (84) | TrackBacks (0)

Themis, the daughter of Uranus in Greek mythology, evolved to be depicted as a woman holding a pair of scales in one hand and a sword in another. She is blindfolded to show that justice is impartial, and her sword represents the power that is held by those administering that justice.

Although known by many names, Themis is commonly referred to as "Lady Justice."

I'd like to think of Themis as a mother. Because only a mother can hold a sword in one hand and a pair of scales in another. But I've seen mothers, still weeping over a child's untimely death, who couldn't buy even the illusion of justice.

So I don't take lightly the pain Ryan Rusch's family has had to endure since they learned he was attacked by three teens while playing in a park. I don't dismiss, not for a moment, the anger this white mother must have felt when she was told her son was attacked by three black youths for his cell phone.

There's no greater pain than not being able to protect one's child from the haters in life -- whether those haters are bullies on a playground or shooters in a drive-by. If a mother could, she would use her own body to shield her child from these cruelties.

But she can't. All she can do is demand and expect justice.

Location shouldn't matter

Unfortunately, while the sculpture of Themis is blindfolded, the people who get involved when a crime is committed are not. That's why the Burge report should have sent shock waves across the city. It was proof that the criminal justice system was corrupted at the basic level -- in precincts and jail cells.

The same forces that drove everyone involved to ignore evidence about the documented tortures revealed in the Burge report are the same forces that still conspire to pervert justice. I'm not talking about individuals. I'm talking about the attitude that political expediency trumps the moral obligation to seek justice that is impartial and fair.

That's what I see happening in the Ryan Rusch case.

Without a doubt, when a fragile 14-year-old boy is not safe from a violent attack in a neighborhood park in a community of upscale homes, you know there will be pressure to mete out severe punishment. And because the victim was white and the attackers were black, there was reason enough for police and prosecutors to investigate the attack as a hate crime.

But apparently, because charging the teens with a hate crime would not enhance their punishment, prosecutors have added attempted murder to the charges.

Really, how do prosecutors justify charging these teens with aggravated battery, robbery and attempted murder in a case where the teens beat up the victim and stole his cell phone?

If convicted of a Class X felony, the 16-year-olds would be remanded to a juvenile facility until they are 21. If a judge grants the prosecutors' motion to charge both teens as adults, the additional charge means they would also face 6 to 30 years in an adult prison.

Although charges against Micha Eatman, the 17-year-old, have not been upgraded to attempted murder, it is expected that prosecutors will make that request at his next court appearance.

An attorney for one of the teens claimed that the upgraded charges were politically motivated.

"You can't ignore the neighborhood in which [the beating] occurred," Kathy Roller, an assistant Cook County public defender, said in juvenile court. "Beverly is known as being a very political part of the city."

In other words, had this crime happened in Englewood, Roseland or Garfield Park, it is unlikely that these teens would be facing attempted murder charges. But justice should not be guided by where a crime is committed, the race of the victim or the race of the offenders.

As horrible as the crime is, it just doesn't rise to the level of attempted murder.

Memories of Clark case

Attempted murder fits what Zachariah Blanton, 17, of Gaston, Ind., is accused of doing. Last weekend, Blanton took allegedly his high-powered rifle and went on a shooting spree along Interstate 65 and Interstate 69, killing one man and injuring another. Indiana authorities charged the youth with murder, attempted murder and criminal recklessness.

The closest parallel to the Rusch case is the brutal, racially motivated 1998 beating of black teen Lenard Clark in the Bridgeport community. That attack left Clark with permanent brain damage.

The ringleader in that assault, Frank Caruso Jr., was charged with attempted murder, aggravated battery and hate crimes. But a jury was not convinced Caruso was trying to kill Clark and acquitted him on the attempted murder charges. He was sentenced to eight years in prison and served three.

Two others involved, Michael Kwidzinski, 21, and Victor Jasas, 18, didn't serve any time in prison. After plea bargaining, their punishments were reduced to probation -- two years for Kwidzinski and 30 months for Jasas.

I understand why the Beverly community is outraged over this senseless act of violence.

But Lady Justice is blind. And she never abuses her sword.

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Posted by Mary Mitchell at 04:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (62) | TrackBacks (0)

Whether you are a well-to-do white male from Lincoln Park or are a barely-making-it single mother living in subsidized housing, you are likely to hold some misguided perceptions about race and class.

How could you not?

We live in a city that is still divided by race--and class--to the point that wherever I go, someone reminds me that Chicago is one of the most segregated cities in the nation. But do we talk about that? Nooooo.

That's just odd.

Earlier this year, when Men's Fitness magazine named Chicago the nation's fattest city, we got on it. Fitness programs popped up everywhere. And you couldn't go a day without reading or hearing about the latest dieting trends.

So why don't we talk about race?

O.K. I'll re-phrase that question. Why don't white people talk about race? Why don't Asians talk about race? Why don't Latinos talk about race?

Black people talk about race all the time.

We talk about it when we bemoan the state of public education. We talk about it when we complain about police brutality. We talk about it when we shop at neighborhood stores that sell loose cigarettes and single sticks of margarine.

Last month, I participated in a panel discussion of the movie "Crash" that was held at DePaul University. I was surprised that so many people turned out for the event. Other members of the panel included a black poet, black public defender, Puerto Rican lawyer, a black judge, a Latino lawyer, and a white lesbian/feminist/politician.

The audience included about a dozen white people.

Everyone seemed passionate about the racial themes depicted in the movie. But at the end of 1-1/2 hours of talking, we didn't hear from one white person.

Not one white person asked a question. Or made a comment. Or shared a story about race relations. For all practical purposes, we were a roomful of black and Latinos talking to ourselves.

So what I want to know is this: Why is it so hard for white people to talk about race?

Black people aren't shy about telling white people what irks them. White people shouldn't be shy either. Besides, getting this weighty issue out in the open would not only clear the air, but may just help improve race relations in this city.

But be warned. This is my blog. While I welcome spirited debate, I'm not putting up with the disrespect. Please refrain from using racial slurs, hurling insults and posting comments that are meant to shock and offend.

Hopefully, this daily journal about race and class will be a true reflection of how we interact across racial and ethnic lines. Hopefully, our candid conversations will pave the way to some honest public dialogue on the subject.

If that happens, maybe one day we really won't need to have this conversation.

Posted by Mary Mitchell at 05:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (237) | TrackBacks (0)