Local Adventure: A Photo Hunt in Bishop Arts

I spent my afternoon with some lovely ladies in the Bishop Arts District this afternoon. I had been looking forward to our outing for sometime, as I had planned a photo scavenger hunt for our monthly gathering. Our numbers were low, but our spirits were high. We met at Arapaho Center Station, and spent about an hour on a train talking with one another. The train took us to Union Station, and from there we took a bus to the Bishop Arts District. We walked a few feet to the nearest establishment, The Local Oak, where we waited to meet a friend who had driven to meet us. It was my first time in that particular part of the area, and I was immediately taken with the whimsical wishing tree outside. We read all sorts of wishes there - hilarious, relatable, debatable, and the like. Shortly after our friend arrived, we split into uneven teams and went on our way. Here are some highlights from our little adventure. I have made my scavenger hunt available to download for free. Happy photo hunting!

Download my Girls Day Out: Bishops Arts Photo Hunt

Local Adventure: The Dallas Museum of Art

This weekend's local adventure was a trip to The Dallas Museum of Art. Did you know that general admission is free?! I'm finding myself near-fascinated things that I don't know about this place where I live. Sometimes I wonder if that's because I still have not decided that this is home. That is a deep conversation for another time. Right now, I just want to share some of my favorite photos from today.

Endeavor: Local Adventuring in Downtown Dallas

Recently my brother, Uriah, and I decided to start taking some time on Saturdays to explore our city together. We have reached a point in our lives where we want to take our interests and turn them into something more. For my brother, that means diving into photography. He's into different kinds of photography (excluding wedding and portrait photography), but at this point, he seems to be practicing architecture photography and street photography. For me, that means seeking out new places, people, and experiences to learn more about myself, as well as the stories and perspectives of others so that I can share those in a meaningful context. The decision to explore Dallas together offers us a backdrop for these endeavors we have, and a cool opportunity to spend some time together. Today was our first day of local adventuring. It was way too hot, but also fun.

Although we have lived in Dallas for about 12 years (which is longer than we have lived anywhere else), we have spent little to no time at all outside of the areas where we work, live, or attend school. I had seen a bit of the city on rare occasions - a field trip to the aquarium with my students, a concert in Deep Ellum, a lunch date with friends in the Bishop Arts District. We thought a lot about where to start exploring and decided to check out a store called The Lone Chimney Mercantile. My brother had had a chance encounter with the owner a few months ago, and she had encouraged him in his pursuit of photography. It just so happened that I also knew (of her), as I worked with her child. Naturally, she was not there at the time that we arrived, but we ended up seeing a bit of the Dallas Farmers Market. I tried a snowcone from Sno Gourmet Shaved Ice. In the spirit of trying something new, I opted for an interesting snowcone flavor, Orchid Creme Vanilla. When I asked the cashier to describe the flavor, she said it was "like vanilla cotton candy". Immediately I was sold. And then I tasted it. She forgot to mention that apparently, the orchid part of the flavor tastes like bitter poison - like actual poison that nearly killed me. I tried to be a trooper and finish it, but I ended up dumping it in a nearby trash receptacle. You guys, seriously, be advised that it was either a horrible flavor or an extremely acquired taste. I suppose I should have known better than to go with a floral flavor.

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Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, S03E02: Kimmy’s Roommate Lemonades!

““You know what yuppies eat? Brussels sprouts!
And ice cream that tastes like lavender!”
“NO - that’s a smell!””

— Lilian & Kimmy

We exited the market to check out the art painted on the walls across the street - a set of painted mini murals comprised a wall along the block, with all kinds of images. Some were innocent and cute, and others were bright and bold, boasting thinly veiled meaning or references. I wondered about the children who were growing up with these adult images around them being normalized in their minds (I suppose there's a lot of that in our culture today).

The following confession is one that I am neither proud nor ashamed of: I did not last for more than 10 to 15 minutes of our adventure once we stepped out of the market. The heat index was 110º. Somehow, my brother (and apparently loads of other people who were out and about on their scooters and feet) have convinced themselves that this is an acceptable temperature for human beings. I personally cannot rationalize any decision to subject oneself to such high temperatures willingly. I must not have been alone, because The National Weather Service issued an excessive heat warning.  So feeling a bit like a weak link, but even more so like a smart cookie, I decided to quit hindering my brother (by stopping to look for shade or air conditioning every few minutes) and go find a safe haven indoors. I had been wanting to check out The Wild Detectives for some time, especially as I was planning a scavenger hunt to conclude there for an upcoming Girls Day Out, so I headed that way.

The road between The Farmers Market and 8th Street was striking - like weaving in and out and in between "well to do" and "getting by". I lost count of the homeless men and women I passed on the way. In a little while, we were on a narrow street with cars parked down either side, leaving barely enough room for one car at a time from opposing sides of traffic. It reminded me of a New York street. The businesses resembled (or more accurately were fashioned in) varying little, brightly-colored houses. I liked the aesthetic and the vibe of "the neighborhood".

As I walked up the steps to The Wild Detectives, I could hear a good deal of activity from the inside. The place was packed and buzzing with conversation (and probably with drinks). The folks behind the counter were so enthralled by their own conversation that no one noticed me for a while. Eventually, I spoke up, and a gentleman behind the counter with his straight-haired dreads mounted in a man bun atop his head answered my questions about the place and "how it works". He offered me a menu where I found that that there were very few cold drinks (other than water) that did not contain alcohol (yeah, yeah - I know it's a bar). The place had crazy-cool vibes - it was covered in books, wood, and vinyl. There was a fridge full of books for borrowing. There were several picnic benches outside, where I could see folks setting up for what I learned would be a concert featuring a local artist later that night.  There was no shortage of people inside, all engaged in conversation, just as the creators of the venue intended. I just loved the idea of  The Wild Detectives, but I needed a cold drink and a little more calm, so I decided I'd come back another time.

I headed out and looked at what else was down the block. Just one house down, a little girl sat on the front porch of lovely a blue house. The sign out front read "SERVE". One word, all caps, no description. I could hear Christian music playing from inside. I walked into SERVE and found just the kind of calm that I was looking for. Inside was bright, open, and quiet, other than one couple talking to another behind the counter, and soft background music. The couple behind the counter acknowledged me with warm smiles and greetings. The adorable little girl from outside joined them behind the counter. The gentleman standing in front of the register asked: "How can I help you?" I asked him to tell me about the place - what it was, why it was called SERVE, was that his family behind the counter with him (yes), and did they own the place (yes). He and his wife shared that they felt called to be a lighthouse and to serve in the community. They wanted to provide good food (both tasty and healthy) for people in a place where more than serving food, they could serve up friendliness, community, and God's love. What a lovely notion! I wondered how they were carrying it out. I didn't ask. Instead, I asked for a drink recommendation and decided to go with the one provided by the little girl. It was a blue coconut refresher and it was very refreshing indeed, as was the wholesome and happy atmosphere. I chatted a bit more with one of the store owners and expressed my hopeful interest to interview them sometime.

I walked around for a bit without stopping inside many of the little house-stores. A few blocks down the stores shifted from homes to hip storefronts. There was a sort of community event taking placed called Christmas in July.  Several stores were sending "snow" from their rooftops to the people down below. One spot had a little photo backdrop set up with oversized sheet music in the background,  red, white, and blue Christmas trees, and (if memory serves correctly), a shirtless Santa in summer shorts. It was cute, but since I was alone and horrible at selfies, I lost out on the opportunity for my own fun photo. Farther down the block some stores were playing Christmas music. There were "Santa snacks" like popcorn and cotton candy being sold outside. And farther still, there was "ice skating" set up in one of the parking lots. I wondered if this area was always this busy. I had stopped into Eno's Pizza Tavern to meet my brother for dinner, but there was an hour-long wait and we were both more than ready to eat. We opted to eat at Cafe Brazil instead, which was considerably quiet and empty compared to the former option. It was perfect. After a day of exploring we were able to go to something familiar. The peace made it easy for us to talk with each other about what we had encountered. Uriah had some interesting stories to share (mine were pale in comparison, but that often happens to those who remain indoors).

As for me, I had found a couple of new places where I could surely start connecting with people and learning about their stories. I also came to realize that adventure for me (at least while I lived in Texas, particularly during the summer) would have to happen in the early morning or late night hour, so that I could manage it without being destroyed by the sun. In other news, I may or may not be a vampire.

My first step forward was to go somewhere new. My next one is to really meet someone new and engage them in a deep enough conversation to learn at least some part of their story.

Close to Home

If you are choosing to read this post, I would encourage you to read it from beginning to end, lest you turn away believing that I believe anything less than all of the things that I believe pertaining to the matters that I intend to address.

Last  Thursday night in Dallas, a national discussion  became something more - a living breathing problem with tangible and measurable effects. It's one thing to talk about news elsewhere and another thing entirely to watch it unfold in your own backyard. It is not everyone who lives in a state of fearful awareness of all the hatred, injustice, and the dangers that exist outside their doors. We know it's out there in the world, but oftentimes we subconsciously rest assured that we will not be the target of these things. Dallas is suddenly very much aware of it, because it has now struck too close to home.

The interesting thing about this newfound awareness, is that many will remain unaffected still. The men who were targeted in Thursday's tragedy represent a limited demographic in Dallas - (white) police officers. Of course that means that not only the officers have to be concerned with this added danger to their lives, but also their many loved ones.

There is another population in Dallas who lives in that hyper state of awareness - black Americans, especially black American men. Black Americans did not need to see a national news event in their hometown to know how real and present their danger is, no matter where they are in the United States. Long before these last couple of years, when the names of young black American boys and men started making headlines in troubling stories of police brutality, we have experienced and been trained to be equipped for dealing with the systematic injustice towards black Americans that runs rampant in U.S. law enforcement.

From a young age many black children are taught how deal with law enforcement, especially white officers. We are taught to comply first and ask questions later, address officers with noteworthy respect - "yes sir" and "yes ma'am", even if they choose to address you without any respect at all, and to be mindful to say as little as possible, even when asked a question. We are taught that the youthful errors of a young white person, much less the other crimes, have graver consequences for a young black person. We are taught that perception is flawed and misguided, and that it has the potential to cause us harm when we have not done anything wrong. In short we are taught to remain fearfully aware and to act accordingly.

Because I am black, this issue of hatred, injustice, and the resulting danger has always been quite close to home. I can remember being watched by store managers and security guards when I went shopping - and I'm a girl - the problem is far worse for black boys. When we were in high school, my brother Uriah was pulled over by an officer while riding his bike - RIDING HIS BIKE! The questioning officer claimed that Uriah looked like a suspect that they were looking for at the time. I doubted the truth of that claim, but if I were to give him the benefit of the doubt, I would have to believe that he thought all black people looked the same. Of course the more likely story was that he could make that claim to pull over any black male and hope to find a reason to ticket him or take him in. Perhaps you read that and think that I must be paranoid. If that is the case, chances are that you simply do not understand, because you have not experienced that racism.  I would encourage you to read this Huffington Post article on "white fragility".

My brother Uriah, myself, and my brother Isaiah some odd years ago when I was in high school. I think of their safety more and more with each passing occurrence of police brutality that is reported.

I have watched over the past couple of days as folks I know in Dallas (and elsewhere) share their position on all that is going on. Many people took to their social media pages right away and said what seemed to be the first things that came to their minds. Insightful and encouraging things were said. There were also not-so-insightful and less encouraging things said. The way people respond in the face of tragedy may show you a very different side of them.

A number of people felt that need to say that police lives matter or that all lives matter. I do not disagree with either of these statements, but I do find it disappointing to see how many people still do not understand what is meant by #BlackLivesMatter. When we say that black lives matter, we are saying that black lives matter too. The unspoken "too" says that black lives matter as much as all other lives. The worth of other lives, especially the lives of (white) law enforcement officers is rarely called into question or treated in such a way that one would question it.

The officers who were killed on Thursday have been and will continue to be remembered in an honorable light. We'll remember the best of them and likely know nothing at all of their flaws as human beings. Hundreds of people have already done what they can to pay their respects to these men. Their families cannot recover the loss of their loved ones, but they will have these comforts and their dignity before a watchful nation. This is just as it should be, because every one of those lives that were taken had value.

Let us now consider the lives of the two men who had just two days before been murdered unjustly. The media had to report the stories and so they did. But the media went further than that, as it often does in the case of black men who die at the hands of unjust officers. Within 24 hours the media questioned whether or not the murders were actually unjust. Within 48 hours the media dug up the past transgressions of these men who had died for reasons entirely unrelated to those transgressions. Outside of the BLM movement, there will be no national outpouring of support for the families who lost these men. The families will not get that dignity as they lay their loved ones to rest. Furthermore, they will be quickly forgotten, as the nation moves on to whatever the next big story may be. Their deaths and the injustice they suffered were in fact overshadowed by the tragedy that took place in Dallas. Were the lives of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile not valuable as well?

Now I understand that one significant difference between the officers and the civilians was that the officers died in the line of duty, which is of course commendable. However, that does not make the officers lives more valuable than that of the civilians who were killed.

In the wake of these recent events that have taken place, it is astounding to see how many people are still failing to see what the problem is. Police officers are being vilified by black Americans. Black Americans and BLM supporters are being vilified by white Americans. Neither of these institutions is inherently bad, and to be in support of one is not to declare war against another. You can in fact support both, as Trevor Noah so appropriately conveyed in his video addressing the shootings of Sterling and Castile. The problem that we are facing is an issue of injustice.

One key difference between the two aforementioned institutions is that only one of them is directly linked to a systematic problem of injustice. This is not to say that all officers are unjust, but that the institution they are a part of does in fact have a problem of injustice that remains to be solved.

Another key difference between the two is their common perceptions and misconceptions. The reason why police brutality can thrive in a country that prides itself on justice is because so many people, particularly those with the power to change it, are either turning a blind eye to the problem or somehow in complete denial. Worse yet, some may even be encouraging it. With evidence and facts that are quite plain to see, people are still trying to deny, downplay, excuse, and maybe worst of all, justify the unjust murders of black civilians and the systematic problem of prejudice and racism in our law enforcement system. The inability to perceive the reality of this problem keeps it very much alive.

As for the BLM movement, people are quick to perceive them as "anti-white", simply because they are "pro-black". The fact that these terms even exists indicates a serious problem with race in our country. People also assume that BLM supporters hate police officers. The fact that BLM supporters condemn the actions of officers who commit wrongful acts against black Americans does not mean that that they hate all officers. Many people do not know that  their position expands beyond police brutality into other  systematic racial issues in our country. The lack of interest in perceiving BLM activists and supporters accurately makes it that much more challenging for the movement to be successful.

I've said a lot and still it's not enough. Whether you know me or not, I appreciate that you've taken the time thus far to read my thoughts. If you know me at all, I hope that you'll try to truly consider and understand my thoughts. And if you love me at all, I hope that you will act in such a way that I know these thoughts meant something to you.

Here are some things that I'd really like you to consider and act upon.

• Every life has equal inherent value and every person should be treated accordingly. It is not okay for anyone to unjustly or needlessly murder a civilian or a police officer. And in the event that a man's life is taken, it is our duty to mourn with those who mourn, not to dredge up the regrettable moments of their past or to diminish the loss of those they leave behind.
  

• In a nation that has come through decades of necessary reform, we still have a long way to go, and the only chance we have of reaching the full measure of the very notion of justice that our country was founded on, is to admit what is truth, discuss it with candor, and act to improve what is broken.
  

• We are not too small as individuals to make a difference. We can begin by choosing to give up preconceived notions and misconceptions. We can choose to have conversations that help us to perceive one another's reality.
  

• Cliche as it may sound - love one another. As a Christian, I am called to love everyone, and whether or not you share my faith, I think we can agree that humanity is better off when we abide by that simple call to love.

I want to end by extending my condolences to the families of the aforementioned civilians and officers who died, as well as those whose related deaths followed Thursday night's events. It is painful to lose your loved one, and more terrible still to lose them at the hand of a fearful or hateful stranger. To the officers who put their lives on the line to protect us everyday, I thank you for your service and pray for your safety. To every black man, woman, and child, I pray for your safety as well, and for grace from God to walk in such a way that no one might question your innocence or your strength.