Growing Up Black in Grosse Pointe: What I Learned

Alexa, play Smiling Faces Sometimes remake by David Ruffin. That is how I felt much of the time growing up in this small wealthy pocket of suburbia in proximity to the neighborhood and major city in which I had previously been a part of, Detroit. To say that this city made me would be giving it far too much credit, but in a rather caustic way I can unequivocally say that my experiences living in Grosse Pointe brought out a layer of resiliency in which I never thought I had, along with the initial ignite that led me to the path in life on which I am currently traversing. While living in a quiet and wealthy suburb has been a privilege, it’s silence was deafening as a young 12-year-old Black male entering a predominantly White space attempting to find a community like the one in which I had just left within my old Detroit neighborhood. My transition to Grosse Pointe was extremely difficult, and a feeling of culture shock was inevitable. I went from living in a neighborhood where my neighbors were like family, to a neighborhood where we were the only Black family on the block and stares that were generally very cold, a feeling that I had not previously experienced. Walking into stores and anywhere, I could always feel the stares of people on my Black skin, which made me want to disappear sometimes or continue moving with my head down. Despite this initially rough transition, I had a few neighbors and teachers such as my fifth-grade teacher who took the time to make me feel comfortable, which was extremely beneficial in helping me find community. I even said the fifth-grade graduation speech for a school I had only attended since January of 2008, or the equivalent of six months, which was an accomplishment that made my family beam with pride.

When President Obama was elected later that year and throughout middle school, many of my peers would come to school repeating some of the remarks of their parents and their own that they would craft. Remarks that would question the president’s birthright and wish an untimely end not only to his presidency, but to his life. Being within an eardrop of these conversations was not an uncommon situation to be in, along with other conversations involving microaggressions and overt racism. “People are going to be people, regardless of color” my father would often say. While I can now say that I understood their intentions, this was difficult to process as a young Black male who was navigating, yet still able to thrive, in an all-White space. While middle school is an awkward stage for everyone, I found it to be the most challenging and difficult time of my life within my 24 years. As other kids were focused on going on vacations and who liked who, I was focused on the slivers of grey hair that were growing because of how extremely stressed I was as a 12–14-year-old attempting to be perfect in the face of racism, culture shock, and feelings of isolation. During this time in my life, I was very quiet, but as an adult I realized that I was not an introvert but had rather put up a shield early to protect myself from the degrading comments my peers would say about things such as Detroit and their views of Black students in general. This would include labeling me “not like the others” because I happened to be in the honor courses while also being an athlete.

This would often put me in a precarious position with students at my school, because I did not fit the mold of what they deemed “Black”. Being both a good student and athlete allowed me to navigate in many different spaces during my time in Grosse Pointe, but it was also a very isolating experience that followed me into high school. During my time in high school, I continued to be the only Black male in my AP courses and Honor courses, but I was able to find community due to there being far more Black students than previously in middle school.

Growing up in Grosse Pointe I felt invisible, and athletics were the only times in which I found myself being seen. I was always the only Black male and usually the only Black person in my classes from 5-12th grade, which was always interesting. I would have all these random thoughts in my head, about what people thought about me, about attempting to carry myself in a way that made White people feel comfortable. During this time in my life, I was there in physical form, but for the most part mentally I had checked out to save myself. Although I was only five minutes away from my old neighborhood in East English Village, I was in an entirely different world and had very limited interaction with my community after moving into this new world as it seemed. Outside of my immediate family, I had limited interactions with other Black people, which was also extremely difficult as I was constantly reminded in my classes and at school of Black being inferior with miniscule examples of Black excellence.

Attending Michigan State University was the best thing that happened to me, because for the first time in my life outside of my parents and high school track coach, I was exposed to faculty and staff who looked like me that took the time to pour into me for the first time since I had lived in Detroit. It was this type of love that was healing and played a direct role in me creating the mentoring organization Rising Black Men, because I wanted to pay it forward and also create space for Black men from all areas to be able to share their stories and build community. As a 21-year-old, this organization affirmed to me the importance of community, mentorship, and using even my negative experiences and being able to transform them into something positive in a way in which could be shown as love, because everyone needs love. It also allowed me to develop a stronger relationship with God, which has been the foundation in everything in which I have done, as I know that I would not be here without Him.

I am extremely grateful that my parents worked hard and showed me a plethora of support my entire life, but even more so during my time in Grosse Pointe. It was their constant reminders that I only needed to be the best Tim that I could be, regardless of what anybody else was doing. I also know now that having a village is invaluable, and that is something that I was lacking during my time as a student in Grosse Pointe. The work that I have done since leaving this city has been healing and necessary for me, and as stated previously, my experiences in Grosse Pointe have been the impetus both consciously and unconsciously in me doing the work that I do. I also know that exposure is expansion, and being exposed to such differences has allowed me to navigate and thrive in every space I have entered.

Now, as a 24-year-old Black male with an Ivy League degree preparing to enter a PhD program at the top public institution in the country, I am reminded that I have a responsibility to continue to be the change that I want to see. I also know that having all the degrees in the world is nice, but I am still Black, and this is what I will be judged at in certain spaces before I even open my mouth. I also know that it takes a village, and that you cannot do it alone, so wherever I go, I will continue to create and join spaces that affirm and build community.

Yours truly,

Tim Herd