In Memory of Papa: A Flashback to Struggle and Transcendence
In 2013, a course called Struggle and Transcendence led by Father Raymond Kemp at Georgetown University required students to hold conversations with grandparents and parents over Spring Break. The goal was “to build [a] family tree narrative, talk about why and how folks moved from location to location — migration — and working to develop lives of purpose.” I had not realized that seven years after the assignment, I would be revisiting the conversation with my grandpa one year after his passing. Father Kemp emphasized, “their struggle and transcending are part of your story.” Father Kemp was partially correct. Papa’s story is not only part of mine, but also part of the millions of African Americans who moved to places like Detroit during the Great Migration. Below is the essay I wrote for the assignment. With a few exceptions, I decided not to edit the content of the assignment to maintain the voice in which it was written.
“Taking a walk down memory lane with my grandfather was difficult. He speaks about his youth growing up in the small town of Fieldale, Virginia.
Fieldale was predominantly Black but segregated. According to Papa, most of the Black people lived in a poor, dirt road area, which he referred to as the village. Most of the residents, including my Papa, worked at the mill; however, he maintained a burning desire to see what else life had to offer. After graduating in 1947 from Henry County Training School in Martinsville, Virginia, a friend who moved to the big city — Detroit — invited him to visit. Papa traveled to Detroit on Christmas Day, landed a job on the following Monday, and never looked back.
As a child, I often asked my Papa about his experiences growing up in Detroit, but never heard about the trip to Detroit that changed the course of his life. For him, staying in Detroit meant opportunity. He wanted more in life, and finding a job that paid $35 a week at the Chevrolet Dealership in Detroit provided more and some. Papa used this job as entry into the automobile industry. Although he was laid off from the job at the dealership after only six months, he began working at Firestone Tire and Rubber Company shortly after. He would stay at Firestone for the next 32 years.
What is so remarkable about Papa’s story is how quickly he adapted. He was bold, adventurous, and never allowed barriers to stop him from providing for himself and, eventually, his family. Additionally, he always remained positive and optimistic about the future.
Papa and I also talked about race relationships in both Virginia and Detroit. He commented on two differences in the interactions between Blacks and whites in the Midwest and the South. He mentioned how Jim Crow in the South was used as a tool to discriminate overtly. “Whites Only” signs were commonly seen displayed in places of recreation, and he also recalled being called n*gger and having rocks tossed at him. One thing he emphasized is that most of these acts were committed by poorer whites, white people that shared a similar socio-economic status. The Jim Crow in the North was more covert. There weren’t many visible signs, but Blacks were not permitted to live in certain areas of the city. Papa shared that the area of Detroit where he currently lives was once a “White only” area, and police patrolled the neighborhood and forbade Black people from entering.
Consequently, most Black people lived in an area of the city, referred to as “Black Bottom.” Papa recalled the area on Detroit’s Eastside (specifically Hastings Street), mentioning the people, music, and liveliness that filled the area. He also said that since Black people were not allowed to ride in checker cabs or shop at the suburban malls that many Black people owned businesses.
Listening to my Papa talk about the bustling streets of Detroit makes me wish I had a time machine. There was music, people, industry, and though it was segregated, there was harmony. Black people were constructive and innovative when laws forbade them from owning their homes or businesses in particular areas. When I asked Papa about that period in the city, he commented, “Detroit was booming! There were streetcars and lots of people…lots of people”. Those words struck me because the people and energy that he remembered growing up are no longer the Detroit that lives today.
In 1973, Detroit elected its first African American mayor — Coleman Young. Coleman Young’s election as the mayor of Detroit served as a defining moment in the city as Blacks, frustrated by the white administrations that existed before. Young understood this and wrote, “I don’t dispute the gravity of Detroit’s problems.” He continued, ‘They are basically the same problems that beset every American city, except that they are magnified by the fact that modern Detroit was built around the auto industry, which has been losing blood for two decades, and the accompanying reality that white flight, industrial and social, has left Detroit with the damnedest demographics in America.” Young’s comments illustrated his acknowledgment of the impact of race relations and white flight in the city. Two years after his election, the city built an expressway, changing the city’s landscape and impacting many businesses. My Papa mentioned that the Firestone where he worked was forced to relocate, and the amount of business they received after 1975 was never quite the same. Papa never really talked about the impact that Coleman Young had on the political climate, but he understood the devastation the 1967 Detroit riots caused.
When I drive around the city of Detroit with Papa, he often talks about the businesses that once existed. It is sad to drive down streets like Dexter, Woodward, and Linwood, at a time, considered popular destinations for Black people, burned down shops and homes.
During our conversation, we discussed white flight and how it contributed to the economic decline in the city. Papa shared how much the landscape of Detroit changed when Black people represented the majority of the city population. According to Papa, white people moved their businesses and families out of the city and set up shop in the suburbs. I posed a somewhat controversial question to him to end our conversation. I asked if he thought life was better when white people represented the majority of people in Detroit, his response — yes.
My Papa has always represented the glue for my family. He is the hardest working man that I know, always maintaining faith, and a desire to support his family and friends. Another example of this support was housing. In first grade, my family moved into the upstairs unit of a duplex owned by Papa— 2919 Sturtevant Street. He worked tirelessly to purchase the property in what used to be a predominately white neighborhood in Detroit.
Sadly, the bank eventually foreclosed the home, and my family was forced to move. I never dared to ask Papa how he felt about losing the home where he lived with my late grandma and raised my dad. Perhaps, he was happy that the house was no longer something he had to worry about anymore. The house contained a lot of memories and not all pleasant.
Even though he does not regularly attend religious services, I believe that my Papa is an Angel sent from above. He is 82 years old and maintains the same vigor he had fifteen years ago. Papa epitomizes resilience and strength — two qualities that I hope to embody. His story is not only of struggle but transcendence.”
This is only a tiny fraction of our conversations about his life. I wrote this essay while in undergrad — the choppiness, the shifting of tone, the gaps, all representing the difficulty of putting on paper how much I loved and valued my grandfather.
On August 7, 2019, Papa passed away in Greensboro, NC, at the age of 88. He rests peacefully in Martinsville, Virginia.
