What am I doing here?

By Danielle S Ross

“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

― James Baldwin

I often fall asleep to the sound of crickets and wake up to the sound of lawn mowers. But I also fall asleep and wake up to the sound of sirens. I live in Pine Lake, GA.

From my front door, I look left and I see lush green trees lining a sloping street of a residential neighborhood. When I look to my right, I see a few small businesses, a little bit of planned greenery, and at the end of the block, a pawn shop that sells guns and buys gold, a liquor store, a Chinese restaurant, and a motorcycle club. I feel fortunate that I can look either way.

When I wander to the left of my front door, I happily absorb the smells and beautiful trees and greenery that lead down a hill, past the Pine Lake Club House, towards the Beach House and The Lake. I forget about the sirens, the gun shop, and the stresses of everyday life. “This is lovely,” I think. I look at the sweet community art including the pieces I contributed, and I feel a sense of belonging, of community. As I continue down the hill to the small lake, I see the American flag flapping in the bright blue sky. But then jarring realization shatters my dreamlike trance. I realize that people were lynched on the very soil I standing upon. I have not been able to find records of lynchings within Pine Lake, but I know there were “strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees” very close by. The roots of those trees easily intertwine with the trees in Pine Lake.

“What am I doing here?” I ask myself.

When I wander to the right of my front door, up to the liquor store on Rockbridge Road, I’m still in Pine Lake, but I feel like I am walking into a different city, a different world. I walk up the short block and cross the busy section of road that bisects the city between residential and business districts. The business district is unquestionably urban with a combination of grit and friendliness that is common in the Deep South. There is nothing pretentious about this area. You take care of yourself and your friends, family, and neighbors through cooperation and acceptance. I like the grit. I like the honesty. I like the details and how unintentional art emerges from concrete, asphalt, age, and defiance. And again, I feel fortunate to have both nature and urban grit so easily accessible from my front door. I buy my beer at the liquor store and I feel the usual connection with the woman at the cash register. As I walk home, I see the mechanic’s business where I have taken my old car for repair so many times over the years. I remember the last time I was there and I think of my favorite mechanic and it puts a smile on my face. Once again, I feel a sense of community, it’s just a different one from the one to the left of my front door. I admit to myself that one community is mainly people of color, and one is mainly white people. Once again, I am haunted by the horrific history that is buried here and I ask myself,

“What am I doing here?”

Pine Lake, GA made headlines in 1999 because the majority of its budget depended on traffic citations issued on a small section of Rockbridge Road that runs along the edge of town. Since then, Pine Lake reduced its police force and stopped issuing speeding tickets. From 2017 to 2019 about 1/4 of Pine Lake’s budget came from traffic citations. Conveniently, the amount drawn in from traffic tickets is the same amount that pays for Pine Lake’s police force. This small city is similar to many other cities and towns across the state that rely on traffic citations to fund public services. What distinguishes Pine Lake from those cities twofold. First, it is a small, majority-white city nestled within a much larger, majority-Black area of DeKalb County. Second, it proudly touts the title “City of Ethics” that parades it’s open and inclusive values like only repressed white guilt and denial can do. Or wait, is it guilt or just privilege masked as guilt? Whatever, “What am I doing here?!”

As I grapple with what my role might be in this mess, first I try internal twists and turns to squirm my way out of it, but there is no way around it: This is systemic racism playing out at my front door, and I am part of it. And I will remain complicit until I do something to force change. The city made some changes 20 years ago, but we are all still complicit in actively normalizing white supremacy and oppressing Black people, one traffic ticket at a time. “Surely I’m exaggerating,” I think. “There are some really nice people who live here. I have some wonderful neighbors and friends here in Pine Lake. That is one of the best things about living here.” But when I tried to explain to the city leadership that we are a powerful little cog in the huge and grinding system of racism in this country, my message was repeatedly met with denial and deflection. I presented open records data from Pine Lake and all the surrounding cities and neighborhood, well summarized and digestible (I have a PhD in research and worked in public health for a decade. I know how to gather and present data). I volunteered my time and expertise to help with change. Stonewalled.

WHAT AM I DOING HERE?!”

Some of the responses I have gotten over and over, from city leadership when I have called out systemic racism in Pine Lake, ring in my head. “It’s not racism. It’s just how things are. Other cities do the same thing. That’s just who drives along Rockbridge road. It doesn’t matter if someone is Black or someone is poor, they shouldn’t be driving a car without insurance. It’s a security issue.” (BTW, the majority of traffic tickets are NOT for lack of insurance).

My expectation of a city that labels itself “certified ethical” is to take the lead on issues such as systemic racism, to be a model for other small cities in this country, especially in the deep south. But apparently that is a naive notion.

WHAT. AM. I. DOING. HERE?!