“Where are you from?” Asks a stranger from another state. Usually, when talking to Detroit natives it’s typical to say “I’m from the city,” but in this case, “I’m from Detroit” utters out of my mouth as I wait to see the reaction non-native Detroiters have when they ask that question. Their eyes widen, lips scrunch up as judgment grows tense in the conversation and all I can do is notice and smile, hiding my irritation and catching my tongue. When reading this, I hope you understand where I’m coming from. 

 

People act this way because those same people are stuck in our past, not our current. They know the abandoned and vacant buildings, the bankruptcy, the violence. What outsiders looking in fail to realize is that Detroit was once the blueprint, and we still are. We had Motown; we were the mecca of cars, where riding in a drop-top Cadillac on a summer day made your swag seem untouchable. We always created our own way to rise from ashes, and I say that in literal terms.  We are still recovering from a reputation that was deemed tarnished by others. So, as we take a ride to my grandmother’s house off Outer Drive, I’m going to explain to you how we indeed... almost lost Detroit. 

 

It was the summer of 1967, and a riot broke out in the middle of Virginia Park in Detroit, Michigan. Almost 60 years later, that area is now known as New Center, an area that holds memories of mine; where I danced at the New Center One building right across the street as a little girl.  

 

According to the article “1967 Detroit Riots” on History.com, this was seen as one of the most destructive riots in American history. Even though the Civil Rights Movement was growing progressively at the time, racial inequality was still at an all-time high. Segregation just ended while integration was about to take place. This caused neighborhoods to shift as more Black families started to reside in urban areas that were once predominantly white. In response, white residents began to reside in the suburbs; scared of integration, but also lost many jobs as deindustrialization of places like General Motors was on the rise as well. This is the definition of white flight. 

 

With these people fleeing, many business owners and politicians neglected the neighborhoods they once lived in in the urban area, causing mass deterioration of these unkept homes, businesses and buildings. Nevertheless, the city of Detroit still tried to improve integration. It was people like my grandparents. Milo and George Jones, who just like the rest of Detroit, struggled with employment and housing discrimination, access to proper medical care, underfunded public education and racism from law enforcement. 

 

My grandparents were born and raised in Memphis, Tennessee. They grew up around the time the Civil Rights Movement took off with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in the state. During that time, living as a person of color in the South was much more controversial than in the Midwest. “You see, I grew up in the South, where things were not the same,” George Jones said. “Your grandmother sent me letters from Detroit and told me I should start looking for employment up north.”  

 

“At 21 or 22 years old, you start to feel used,” he said. “That the issue that has been taught that I am inferior because of the color of my skin is not true. I’m something more than this. The first stage is anger, and you must contain that anger because that anger will get you killed. If I didn't have a family to take care of during that time, I would’ve been dead.” 

 

My grandfather soon migrated to Detroit, Michigan with my grandmother after hearing about the Administrative Action Act. This was taken into place when the government was requiring major companies to hire people of color in the 1960s. 

 

“I moved to Detroit from Memphis, Tennessee on June 12, 1965, right after I finished college at Tennessee State University,” Jones said. “I was a biology major, and I had an interest in pursuing medical school. Most people my age, if they chose not to go to college, they would go straight to the plant. I took the opportunity to take advantage of administrative action because they saw an educated Black man with a degree. Though, when I got to Detroit, I moved when Affirmative Action was introduced, so I knew I would be able to accomplish things I never thought I could.” 

 

“Prior to that, I had a job in dynamic filters. I was a lab assistant. Then, I got a job at Ford Motor Company for their college graduate program. I was a chemical engineer for a while, then I knew I wanted to be a production supervisor. That is the position I had in 1967.” 

 

On July 23, 1967, it was one of the hottest summer days as Detroit was under a heatwave, which was four days shy of my grandfather’s 24th birthday. At 3 a.m., Detroit police raided an unlicensed bar in Virginia Park. “You know what a blind pig is right?” My grandfather said. “Blind pigs were unlicensed bars that sold liquor in the after-hours.” 

  

While police made their arrests, a brick was thrown through one of the police cars which prompted the beginning of the looting and fires. These riots continued to spread as they lasted for five days and would’ve lasted longer if the National Guards weren’t called in to take action. Forty-three people died, over 1,000 people were injured, an estimated 7,200 people were arrested and over 2,000 buildings were left in ruins. Many families were left homeless while white residents living in the suburbs resided indefinitely, which made the process of dismantling segregation worse.  

 

“From the first raid, fires started around 12th Ave,” Jones said. “Your grandmother and I had been around that area around that time. After that, folk just kept raiding businesses, grocery stores and starting fires. It was a very frightening time. Fires were everywhere around the commercial areas like Lafayette Park and Jefferson Avenue. Most of the National Guards that came in were friendly; they just did not want folk to burn anything. It was ugly, it just had a bad aura to it.” 

 

For decades, the city was deemed as a place that was unlivable, unsafe and dangerous. You could say people really thought as a city, Detroit died. Yet, I was born and raised in Detroit, where I am unharmed and loved. It’s a shame people describe a place I have never known. While people plotted our downfall, there were people like my grandparents and my dad who continued to never let me shy away from the city that raised me.  

 

I know a city created Carhartt into a staple piece for streetwear fashion. I know a community that started a program that helped revamp abandoned houses and businesses. I know a city that continues to show the artist Jeezy so much love that you would think this was his hometown; a city whose sports team had the biggest comeback in NFL history and had supporters from the losses we took still stand strong in solidarity. But most importantly, I know a city that came together to clean up what we lost just to stand 10 toes down with our welcoming phrase, “What up Doe?” 

 

There are also people like Mak, an artist and fashion designer who has birthed her brand “Detroit is Not Dead” from her own personal love for the city. “I am not from Detroit, and I will never claim to be from the city, but I love Detroit and what it’s about,” she said. “Detroit is Not Dead is a message to all those who have doubted and never believed in this city. It’s also a message to those who have always loved it and continue to watch it grow.” 

 

Inspired by her father, his presence still lives on through her creative works. “One of my biggest goals in life has always been to make my parents proud and show them how I hustle for what I want,” Mak said.  

 

In October 2023, her father passed away from Acute Myeloid Leukemia, and it changed her life forever. “The camo collection gave a deeper design to my process while others reached out to me telling me their similar situations of losing a loved one,” Mak said. “I realized the platform I was building and knew I had a community to reach through my work.” 

 

So yes, I have so much love for my city because, as a city that is known for our hustle, we are also known for our loyalty to our stomping grounds. There are people like my grandparents who have resided in this city for over 60 years and have seen this city be torn down and rise from ashes. As Detroiters, we were born to give back to each other and help when it is needed. I have lived here my whole life, and I have never seen another city support its people like we do. 

 

From the bullet belt to the heirloom of a grandparent, I precisely tell this story for you to comprehend rather than to judge Detroiters from where we come from. Cause at the end of the day, we speak the definition of resilience.  

 

Just as Mak says, “People judge the city, our city, from its past, not its future. A city full of artists, designers, athletes, musicians and creatives, all come together to promote a city that is not dead.” 

 

 We may have almost lost Detroit, but in the end, Detroit never died. 

 

 

 

 

Sources: 

A&E Television Networks. (2021, March 23). The 1967 riots: When outrage over racial injustice boiled over. History.com. https://www.history.com/news/1967-summer-riots-detroit-newark-kerner-commission