I think by now everyone knows I’m from Flint. Or at least many people that read this blog will know I’m from Flint. You’re all probably sick of it, because I know I’m truly tired. I feel the need to justify my pride because I am constantly bombarded with comments such as: “Why do you care? Flint is so far gone,” or “We should just bulldoze it and start over.” My passion is not unwarranted. I am constantly barraged with opinions, and “facts” from people who want to tell me how to feel. I wear my hometown identity symbolically on my back, and physically around my neck with my Michigan necklace with a heart where Flint is. Let me take you back.

My family are constant defenders of Flint. Our family mantra goes something like: “People may give Flint a lot of shit, but it’s been good to us. We’ve built a great life for ourselves in this city.” To my knowledge, I’m a third generation Flint resident. My Grandpa Bob married my Grandma Barb. They bought a house on Oklahoma Avenue, walking distance to my grandpa’s job at the General Motors shop. My dad and uncle grew up in this 900 square foot house, occasionally working at their grandma’s convenience store up the street on Franklin. My dad, himself, walked into the shop at 16 years old, and he’s still there today, but commuting to Lansing now because he lost his job in Flint. They lived in the most prosperous GM universe in the world, to borrow some words from Ben Hamper’s Rivethead. Flint was an incredible city in those days because of the concentration of wealth, with generally low-skill, high-wage jobs that created the strong middle class that politicians today seem to be striving to get back to. GM created the economy in Flint, and that is undeniable whichever way you decide to dice the history of Flint.

Then GM left, slowly, but surely. I could give you the timeline, but I will spare you the details because in the end, it doesn’t matter. If I may speak generally, the people of Flint feel totally abandoned. Our once impressive community school model has crumbled. Just under 10% of the people living in Flint are unemployed. The median income in Flint is under $25,000. To top it all off: we still cannot drink our water. Even if the media or ‘experts’ say we can, I can tell you there is no way in hell that anyone I know is drinking it. That is, if they have a choice, which some in the city do not. Despite these bleak storylines, the pride and drive of Flint’s residents astounds me.

We ran a Flint alternative spring break (ASB) this past spring, through James Madison College. We were there at the pinnacle of media attention that Flint received during the water crisis, as this was the week of the democratic debate between Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton. We had 7 participants on the ASB, including myself. They all stayed at my house, and we went out and participated in different service projects, having a great time in the process. We were introduced to so many people that were heading up so many cool initiatives, and I realized that Flint people are more resilient than most. I mean, Flint produced Claressa Shields, the two-time boxing gold medalist who is no doubt putting the city on her back. No one can say we’re not a tough city. Another thing on the ASB trip that changed my perspective on my own city was what a friend of mine, Ewurama, said: “I feel more community here than I do in my hometown. I feel like I belong here. I wouldn’t hesitate to move here after graduation if I got a job here.”

Even though I know all of these things, I will no doubt have the same conversation this fall semester.  Someone will say:“Where are you from?”, and I’ll say: “Flint, Michigan,” proudly. I’ll be ready to defend my city and everyone in it from the genuinely ignorant, and from those who are purposeful in their slights. Great things will always happen in Flint, despite fleeing corporations and politics, Always.

Signed,

Mary Kathyrn