About a year after arriving in Winnipeg, I had talked to several people who mentioned a woman of Portuguese descent whose jealous husband would regularly lock her in a windowless room until he returned from work. I figured something should be done about this. When I asked where they lived so I could go talk to them, I was told that this was a culturally sensitive thing and it would be bad to get “your people” interfering in the lives of “my people.” When I asked what “your people” are doing about it, the response was, “I don’t know.” Others told me, “It’s a very tight-knit community. You’ll never find out.”
I couldn’t get to sleep that night thinking about some woman locked in a room by a jealous husband. The next day I walked slowly through the neighbourhood. I looked carefully at each house, as if staring would help me determine which house was more a prison than a home.
Sometimes I get the feeling that we’re never going to change things around here until we get past defining relationships in terms of “my people” and “your people.”
We’re used to hearing it in the movies. One mafia family talks to another about “your people” and “my people.” In the context of a tightly scripted movie, that kind of talk can work. But when people talk like that in the neighbourhood, things get screwy.
When Manitoba Warriors were causing organized havoc in this neighbourhood, I remember getting into several arguments with otherwise sensible Native leaders. Some actually tried to portray the thugs as fledgling liberators of the oppressed. If pushing drugs and pimping your own people is an act of liberation, we’re all in trouble.
When I worked in the Cabrini-Green housing projects in Chicago, there was always a buzz in the neighbourhood when Jesse Jackson drove through our part of town. For all his talk about “my people,” the kids in the neighbourhood mocked the notion. “That fool’s not my leader!” “What’s he using us for now?” I discovered that many resented the way he objectified colour and poverty for personal gain, funding, and political agendas.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about those black crack dealers who got on my case about attacking “their people.” I assured them that “their people” were desperately ashamed of them, and were encouraging me to help get them busted.
There’s still silence in some German circles about those of their own who still reflect positively on some of their SS experiences. There’s silence in some Italian cultural clubs about a small number of high profile businessmen whose position is based on skills in laundering money from illegal drugs and gambling. Cops and teachers have been known to cover up serious problems in their professions because “you don’t turn on your own.”
There’s an uneasy silence in the synagogue about the lawyer whose name pops up around many usurious trick mortgages and shady business dealings. There’s an odd silence in some churches about the violence of pro-life terrorists. There’s eerie silence in some mosques about those with a propensity for violence. There’s shameful silence among libertarians who believe it’s nobody’s business if some old guy likes having sex and taking pictures with 14 year old kids.
When “principles” protect predators, we all suffer. When culture or colour becomes a carpet under which you can legitimately sweep a multitude of transgressions, we’re all in trouble. When race or religion nurture self-pity or hatred we lose more than relationships.
Recently, I talked to a friend about troubles in the neighbourhood. He knows about trouble because he’s caused his fair share. Now he’s doing better. He’s got a job, is married, and is a good dad. But he still has some painful regrets. He said, “Harry, the worst thing I ever did was nothing. I wish I could forget some of the things I saw.” To this day he regrets not confronting his others for some of the things they were doing.
All that’s needed for evil to flourish is for good men to do nothing.
I don’t trust all the “my people – your people” talk anymore. It’s great to have a sense of belonging, but not to exclude others from interacting with “our” group.
This city will change for the better when I see that your people are my people too, and you acknowledge how my people are your people too.
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca