Ever hear someone talk about Flint, Michigan?
Usually they’ll mention Michael Moore and
then focus on how down and out the city is. But
there’s more to the story of Flint.
Last week, I went to Flint to wrap up over
seven years of work with people in the
community I have come to deeply admire. During
these years, we have seen countless changes,
including the following:
- When we started, people in the community
said that they trusted few leaders; now there
is a cadre of recognized leaders, many of whom
went through our public leadership school. The
leadership school now has a faculty made up of
Flint leaders and is now housed at the local
United Way, so that others in Flint can learn
and benefit from it.
- There were few organizations in the
community people trusted when we began; now,
there are dozens of organizations that people
say are working in the interest of the
community, not just pursuing their own agenda.
Indeed, today, there are also eight
organizations – from the Flint Community
Foundation to the Flint Cultural Center
Corporation to Woodside Church – that are
"homes" for civic engagement. These groups have
committed to not only pursue civic engagement
in their own work, but to be advocates and
resources for engagement throughout the entire
community.
- Years ago, people could only identify a
handful of collaborations in the community;
now, they see scores of collaborations, with
new ones starting all the time. A recent
collaboration brings together two partners of
ours – the Flint Cultural Center Corporation
and the Broome Center – to engage youth in
telling stories about their aspirations for
Flint and talking about what they can do to
achieve them.
What made the difference in Flint? One big
challenge was the need to generate new norms,
structures, relationships and networks in the
community – to build the capacity of the
community to discover and pursue its own new
path. That meant developing leaders with new
sensibilities and practices; strengthening
organizations to become more civic-minded;
spreading new norms of engagement in the
community; and creating a new public story –
one that reflects the emerging pockets of
change, rather than focusing solely on the
negative aspects of the community.
There are two other ingredients that have been
necessary, and which my friends in Flint have
come to exhibit so well. First, there is the
need for courage – to put a stake in the
ground and declare one's convictions and stay
true to them. This is no easy feat in Flint,
where community norms have been for people to
tear one another down, point fingers of blame,
and cast aspersions. Flint can be an
inhospitable place for good leaders.
Second is the need for humility – after all,
how can one figure out where to place a stake
in the ground, if they are unwilling to listen
to others? Humility requires that individuals
realize that they alone do not hold all the
answers, and that they must husband their
resources. The norm in Flint, as it so often is
elsewhere in the nation, is to protect one's
turf and seek the spotlight alone. To do
otherwise requires a healthy dose of humility.
It is true that for years the community of
Flint has struggled through plant lay-offs,
street crime, abandoned lots strewn with
litter, and boarded up storefronts. But during
this time, the community has inched its way
back.
It is because of the people of Flint that
change has come about. People are stepping
forward to address race relations and racism,
to improve the public schools, to clean up the
abandoned lots, to fight for better code
enforcement of abandoned buildings, and to
create arts-based programs to give voice to
local residents.
Is everything perfect? Far, far from it –
there is much unfinished work to do.
But today there is a competition occurring in
Flint, a competition between the old, tired
story about a down-and-out community, and a
new, emerging story of hope – a story whose
roots can be found in the pockets of change
throughout the community. You can go and see
these pockets for yourself – they are
inspiring.
I told the people gathered last week that I
have come to love their community – and I
have. I have come to love it for its spirit and
its resilience; but, most of all, I have come
to love Flint because of its people.
Conversations occur about Flint all the time.
The ones I hear when I mention the community to
others are usually negative. They often swirl
around what people think about the latest
Michael Moore movie.
Well, I am here to engage in a different
conversation about Flint. And this conversation
is one I hope you will have with others when
they talk about my adopted home of Flint. It is
the story of a town where people have not given
up; where they are fighting for change, each
and every day, day in and day out. In
Hope
Unraveled, the book I'll be releasing this
fall, the people I interviewed across the
nation over the past fifteen years or so talked
a great deal about "everyday heroes" –
ordinary people who help others, who persevere
in the face of adversity, and who maintain
their integrity.
Those Americans I talked with would find a
great deal of hope in my good friends in Flint.
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