I took the Greensboro Transit Authority bus from Tate Street to the bus station in downtown and back. Route two, Four Seasons. I approached the ride with a bit of trepidation since I wasn’t sure if I needed cash or if debt/student ID would suffice or if I would have to switch buses. When I first got on the bus the machine that swipes the cards was broken and the driver told me to simply get on. After this, I proceeded to plow through people’s feet and legs to get to the back of the mainly full bus where there were some empty seats. Before I had quite sat down, the bus lurched forward, and I was thrown into the seat. The bus turned the corner and made a stop shortly after. I took my camera out of my backpack and started to take pictures. The motion of the bus was harsh and I was surprised in the end that any of my photos had any clarity. The bus route was direct and efficient. Much quicker than I had originally anticipated. The motion of the bus made the ride bumpy and seemed to be a continuous series of jolts. Ultimately, what (or who) was inside of the bus was the most potent thing about the trip. This was not what I expected to pay attention to when I first got on the bus. I have been downtown upon many occasions by car or bike and was familiar with everything that I saw. Not being a regular on the city bus, although I have taken it upon occasion, I found the actual bus and the people on it to be the main thing of importance. Most everyone I saw seemed to be well versed in what they were doing. Their expressions were either tired or seemingly apathetic. Besides the other IARc students with me, there was only one other white person. My main feeling about the whole experience was embarrassment. I felt stupid being a privileged, middle-class, white girl with my camera out snapping photos as if I were on I Love Lucy the Hollywood years passing famous actors house on a tour bus. In some way it felt like exploitation of the rider’s daily lives. As if I condescendingly thought going places via public transportation was an event or quaint. After reaching the depo. and picking up new passengers, loosing old ones, I put my camera up because I felt self conscious about this. (Incidentally I also had plenty of photos). I was relieved to get off the bus when it back tracked to Tate Street before continuing on to the mall. After writing this previous section and choosing my photos, I read the article. I was familiar with the majority of the article having studied civil rights in depth during high school in a United States history class. While I knew that the Woolworth sit-in’s had take place in Greensboro, I had forgotten that Josephine Boyd and other similar incidents had also occurred in Greensboro. My blanket impression after riding the bus and then reading the article is that many times in my mind I think that civil rights or segregated water fountains are something of the past, but in Greensboro at least, race is still very much an issue in many people’s everyday lives. Overall I thought that this was a valuable experience; that there is always something to be gained by placing yourself in someone else’s place and seeing what their life is like. And while a simple action like riding the bus is only the faintest glimmer of someone else’s life or hardships sometimes it is enough to stimulate thought that bring about awareness and ultimately change. Having said this, I think that it would be the height of hubris to think that anyone could understand what it is like for someone living in Glenwood or any other poor neighborhood in Greensboro just by riding the bus.
No comments:
Post a Comment