atl.

i was in atlanta for a few days, and i'll tell you that it's an interesting place.
there's some major stuff there, like CNN, the MLK Jr center and of course, Coca Cola. but it has this villagey feel that major cities don't have and a character of grit and realness that's missing in major metropolitan centers like new york and l.a. there's a polished sheen to the latter two, or maybe a pretense of fashionableness. in atlanta you don't feel that. even in hot clubs and in the richest of neighborhoods, people are just more laidback, casual and unconcerned, the lawns and foliage are a little wild and the houses aren't neat but are set back from the street at random angles and distances.

of course it's all relative, though, and in the poorer (black) neighborhoods it gets really "casual" and "real." i hate to admit it but there's a feeling of urban danger that i don't feel even in the supposedly bad neighborhoods of new york. we stayed in the north (white) part of the city near my sister's house, and when i asked someone on the street for directions to the subway so i could get to the more southern center of town he said "be careful down there. it's like harlem." i've never heard something like that suggested and i've never felt it in new york, much less about a major hub like Times Square. but on the subway and in the center, i was the only white person anywhere around and was ogled and targeted for solicitations in a way i've never been singled out in new york. which leads to the conclusion that despite its admirable civil rights history, in practice atlanta is still more segregated than a lot of (northern?) cities (not that it's some multiracial nirvana over here, but it's better).

it was a sad thing to realize after going to the martin luther king jr center, which is down near the center and also gritty and in need of substantial repairs (but that may just be because it's run by the national park service). but nonetheless it's a very moving experience. i was crying for about two hours straight. normally i'd be a lot more critical of a commemorative place like the king center. granted it's in another country and nuclear bombs might be harder to relate to than everyday racism, but in hiroshima, i was distanced from it and analytical of the way the event was presented and the role it played in the city. but at the king center, the emotions just washed over me and i couldn't be distant, and i let myself go and i'm glad i did. (i expected everyone to feel the same way since the feeling for me was so strong, although i'm not sure why considering that i cry when people i don't know get their PhD's at college graduations. unsurprisingly, i guess, i was alone in my overly emotionalness again.)

this time, though, it made a little more sense than the PhD thing. which is that king was this vessel of the times, and things were being done through him. hearing him speak, it's like a current was running through him. and though he was scared at times, being so relied upon yet being just a man, he let himself be the vehicle of what was the most important work of the era, and it cost him his life. i guess i cried for how amazing he was and for his brilliance and what he accomplished. and, as my uncle pointed out, that someone like him, someone willing to sacrifice completely to a great cause, comes along once in a blue moon and he was taken away too early.

when we left the king center there was a street festival on right nearby called the sweet auburn festival. sweet auburn was the center of black life in atlanta when king was growing up, and one of the most important black urban centers in the country. it still is today, in fact. my brother and sister and i were some of the only non-blacks in the sea of people that were there, and it was an awesome festival, i couldn't understand it.

there's still so much work to be done, but now, in the racism and fears that are ingrained in our minds, it's much more subtle than what king did in eliminating physical segregation and, perhaps, more difficult to eradicate. who knows where to start? not me. but even so, i also felt guilty for not doing more to work towards it. between the king center, reading nickel and dimed, and the commencement speaker at emory (marian wright edelman), who puts pretty much everyone to shame and reminds whites everywhere that we are this color by accident of birth, i'm feeling more useless than ever.