My third chapter in Detroit

My children are all grown up now and I am thinking a lot these days about what my next move is for that infamous “third chapter” of my life. I have been living in New York since 1978 and am looking for an easier (and less expensive) place to live out that third chapter.

Our eldest son Sergio was born with Down’s syndrome and visual impairment. New York, like everywhere else in our country, is quickly tightening the screws on the money for services for the disabled. This is no one’s fault in particular, but it does make our lives much more difficult now that Sergio is at an age where we are hoping to find him a permanent place to live. With nothing available in New York I have had to start thinking outside the box in much the same way as those intrepid souls in Detroit are being forced to think outside the box every day in the hope of kick-starting their city.

I have been thinking a lot lately about a life back in Detroit, surrounded by my sister and brother and their families and getting the support I have never had living in New York. My niece has just moved back to Detroit and will soon be looking for a place of her own and we were talking about her finding a house in Detroit as opposed to one in the suburbs. Of the many problems with that idea is that there is nowhere to shop for food in many of the Detroit neighborhoods.

I have been fantasizing lately about moving back to Detroit in the Wayne State University area and opening up a small food market. I would stock the store with all the essentials; basic food-stuffs like milk and butter and cheese and meats, cleaning products, toilet paper – much like a typical convenience store. I would also provide a small offering of prepared foods like soups and sandwiches and salads and pastas and baked goods. My sister who is a fine baker could handle the baked goods and I could manage everything else.

When I think about this, it doesn’t sound like such a radical idea, certainly not as radical as putting a man on the moon, yet everywhere I look in Detroit, there are neighborhoods where you cannot even buy a box of laundry detergent or a loaf of bread for the lack of markets available. It seems like an easy fix but I am sure there are challenges to doing something like opening a small food market in an inner city neighborhood that I am not aware of.

In 1978, when I first moved to New York City, I visited Harlem for the first time. At that time Harlem was a scary place with abandoned buildings and drug dealers on the corners, much like I suppose some of the neighborhoods in Detroit are scary places. As I was walking on the streets of Harlem that day, I had this idea that Harlem was only scary because we all said it was scary. I saw in that moment that if we could somehow change the conversation we were having about Harlem that it could become a safe place for families to return to and live and grow. Today Harlem is, for the most part, a beautiful area and a much sought after place to live. Many of the brownstone buildings have been renovated and shiny new high rises have been built everywhere. All kinds of stores have opened up and the streets are bustling with activity and life. The conversation about Harlem clearly has changed radically since that day in 1978.

When I think about Detroit and living in the city again, it helps me to think about Harlem and how in just 33 years I witnessed first hand the transformation of a dangerous and degraded neighborhood into a place where people want to raise their families. I believe this is possible in Detroit as well, but first we have to figure out how to provide people with the essentials for living like food and toilet paper and soap. My young niece who is just starting out in life would be a huge asset to any neighborhood she decides to plant roots in. I am confident she would be a local leader coaching children in sports and active in her church. She is the kind of young and vital person that Detroit is looking for and if I could make it possible for her and others like her to settle back in Detroit by providing a place to buy the barest essentials to live, I think that my third chapter could really count for something.

Madalasa Mobili

That’s the question I get most often when I share the vision of Detroit Diaspora with people. My answer is always the same: it’s personal.

I was humbled to be invited to TEDx Lansing to tell that story, the story of Detroit Diaspora this spring. Here’s the video, which is just under 14 minutes:

This story, while personal, is not unique. It’s important for all of us to share our Detroit story. Each anecdote chips away at the negative narrative about our city. You can share your story here and we’ll put together a collage that can downloaded and shared. Let’s tell the rich, successful story of great people born and bred in the D.

Down, but not out. That’s how I’d describe what happened to me this summer.

Soon after launching Detroit Diaspora, I got sick. I spent five days in the hospital in excruciating pain, and a week at home recovering afterwards. It sucked. Thankfully, my wife, family, friends and co-workers had my back.

You learn a lot about yourself when you’re in the hospital, especially if it’s your first time like it was for me. You figure how much pain you can withstand and how many tears you can produce. It becomes clear that trying to look cool is a whole lot less important than getting better. You learn just how nasty prune juice tastes.

When hard times come, we need people to have our backs. People to help us in every way. My wife made me laugh and helped me with my medicine. She states with me at the hospital. My co-workers sent me a care package with candy and games to keep my spirits up. Everybody had unique, indispensable roles in my recovery.

Our beloved Detroit is the same. We’re learning a lot about the city and its people. The grit and uncanny resilience. The pride that cuts through peril. The ingenuity that undergirds our hustling spirit.

We, native Detroiters living inside and outside of our hometown, have unique, indispensable roles in Detroit’s future. We all can’t or won’t necessarily return home, but that doesn’t mean we have no contribution(s) to make.

• Maybe you commit to staying abreast on positive goings on in Detroit so you can counter negative narratives about the city. Here are a couple resources for that.
• Maybe you decide to take a trip back to learn what’s happening in a few specific realms, like my friends with Detroit Nation are doing later this month.
• Maybe you help out a Detroit-area project by donating money for it, like many Michiganders in Washington, DC did for GELT Detroit earlier this summer.
• Maybe you decide to rep the Lions extra hard this season.
• Or maybe you commit to inviting 2 new people to Detroit Diaspora.

Every contribution matters. With each person putting out positive vibes from wherever they are, more momentum builds. That momentum build potential and that potential builds power. The power to change. The power to overcome. The power to recover from being down, but not out.

The more I dive into this project and the more I begin to think about its far-reaching implications, the more I am both humbled and hardened by an ever-present fact: the Detroit diaspora is growing. As we filter through graduation season 2011, the numbers of high school and college graduates leaving the state continues to climb. But 18-to-20-somethings aren’t the only ones who are contributing to the increase.

During one of Borders’ recent store-closing fire sales, I picked up a copy of Alvin Toffler’s Future Shock: a 1970 sociological text written to discuss how the increased rate of change in our world affects every level of our individual psychology. In short, it’s about how we cope with too much change in too short a period of time. Though over 40 years old, I was attracted to the book because given the rapid rate of change today – especially in technology – I was convinced that many of the major premises could and would still hold true today.

And when I got to a section entitled “The Homing Instinct,” history abruptly began to rhyme.

In Chapter 5, “Places: The New Nomads,” Toffler discusses how in today’s (i.e., the late 1960s) society places have become largely transient and interchangeable. We commute to school and work; we travel farther and at higher rates than ever before; and we relocate when job or opportunity dictates without much hesitation. In turn, for the most part, our ties and fidelity to places have been broken. While Toffler goes on to look at the toll this phenomenon takes on the humans involved (that is, how we lose our roots, or worse, we refuse to put any down wherever we may be – in effect becoming home-less), there is something to be said about the damning effect this increased mobility has on the cities involved. As people become increasingly mobile, cities are left to deal with the limited civic participation of its residents. In Toffler’s 1970 words:  “The movers boost a tax rate – but avoid paying the piper because they are no longer there. They help defeat a school bond issue – and leave the children of others to suffer the consequences.” Where have we seen this?

For decades, Detroit has been the proverbial child caught in the middle of an ugly divorce between its residents and its diasporans (this includes those who have moved to the city’s immediate suburbs). Hardly a fiscal quarter goes by without stories of city residents having to undo the political and social “mess” created by having to live with the decisions of voters (and politicians) no longer directly affiliated with the city. Whereas in more prosperous times people were willing to fight back against these external forces and ensure their voice be heard, what we now see is the pallor of disenchantment taking over. Once proud and steadfast in standing their ground, longtime city residents are becoming much quicker to abandon ship than ever before (the age-old “they did it, so why can’t I?” argument). The time afforded to the city to update, upgrade, and change is lessening; its residents are giving Detroit a much, much shorter leash to get its act together. We’re not just losing graduates. We’re losing everyone.

But that’s where we come in.

We see the fallacy in the prevailing circular logic that says “the city is dying because people are leaving because the city is dying.” We’re aware that, as fitting as they may be to describe 2011 Detroit, Alvin Toffler’s viewpoint can be flipped on its head and serve as a springboard for deeper investment in our city. We recognize that it is patently unfair to lose patience with the processes put in place to save what we have left. We know that it is never too late to reverse the thoughts, feelings, and actions people take toward Detroit. While everyone who has left has a story to tell, we have chosen to tell our stories to each other in hopes of coming together over commonalities and galvanizing one another to act. For every person who’s said that they would come back to Detroit once things were “better,” we are here to help hold them to their word. In fact, we are here to go one step further and call them to be a part of the upswing instead of simply waiting for things to plateau. We are choosing to enable accountability instead of be bound by the results.

We are not doomed to repeat history. We are not slaves to “historical implications” nor are we tied down by what we believe the past dictates. We are not simply defined by that which has already happened. Rather, “We are the music makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams.” As we bring those who have given up – tacitly or explicitly – back into the fold, we come closer to seeing our dreams become reality. One person who tells another becomes two people, poised to act. Seeds planted casually begin to grow collectively. Forward momentum produces results.

It’s time to get excited.

Stay active and encouraged,

Kyle

I was born and raised in Southfield, quite a few years before black people started moving there in droves, and I actually had my blackness inexplicably challenged for this reason, among others, during my childhood. I can remember firmly believing if I’d just been born in the city of Detroit, instead of in Southfield or any other suburb, I would’ve been accepted. So I therefore stopped telling people in this area where I was from, fearing the conflict that could arise if I’d publicized such information. This is how I grew up.

I laugh at myself today when I think back on my childhood and the misguided misconceptions of yesterday, for my experiences as an adult have shown me that those same individuals who questioned my blackness in childhood for having both parents in the house, maintaining a stellar academic record, and, most of all, being a suburban kid, haven’t come anywhere close to demonstrating the commitment to the city of Detroit in their adulthood as I have. I have sacrificed my career, my livelihood, my life for this city, and while doing so has cost me much, I have gained so much more.

Following graduation in December 2005, I embarked on the road less traveled and made the migration from out of town back to Detroit to begin my professional life; for obvious reasons, I was one of a very small handful of friends to do this. As a teenager, I had two dreams, one, to become an engineer, and the other, to attend Morehouse College, so upon graduation from high school, I took my talents to Atlanta and toiled 5 1/2 years to earn Bachelor of Science degrees in General Science and Electrical Engineering from Morehouse (magna cum laude) and Georgia Tech, respectively, as a student of the Atlanta University Center Dual-Degree Engineering Program.

I attended school with many friends and associates from the Detroit area who, upon graduation, relocated to cities all over the country to begin their careers. None of them returned home, and quite frankly, I had not originally planned on it, either, except that I had heard the voice of the Lord a few years prior, telling me just as plainly as one can hear someone whispering in his/her ear that His blessings were awaiting me back in Detroit and Detroit only. I was resistant at first, but I knew there was a greater plan in it than that which I could perceive or understand at the time. You see, not only did I get an education in Atlanta, but I also received my calling to Christian ministry there, as well. Ministry was my primary focus and my biggest reason for returning home, for the seminary God had told me to attend was in Southfield.

So, in our final semester in school, while everyone was being flown all over the country to various on-site interviews, I was applying to Detroit-area companies because I knew Detroit was where I was supposed to be. While I was not initially keen on moving back home, I embraced it because I knew the plan for my life was greater than me. And besides, I was coming back home with not one, but two degrees, one from one of the finest, most prestigious liberal arts colleges in the nation, and the other from the #7 ranked school in the country (at the time) for my major, so I shouldn’t have had much problem whatsoever gaining employment, right?

Well, I was sadly mistaken. Making the decision to come back home to Detroit was certainly not a great one for my career, as I returned to my city at a time when jobs–professional, well-paying, white-collar jobs–were evaporating in staggering numbers. General Motors was slashing jobs left and right, Chrysler was in shambles, Ford had just begun a hiring freeze, and all the suppliers to these companies, in turn, followed suit, thus leaving me, a young, bright, accomplished, educated professional, jobless and searching for both employment and answers. Ministry and the myriad of opportunities existing in the Detroit area for ministry were the most important reasons for my coming home, so I enrolled in seminary and embarked on the path toward ordination immediately upon my return home, but I had always believed my academic preparation would have allowed me to establish myself financially while earning my Master’s of Divinity degree. I thought wrong.

At Georgia Tech, we paid pretty close attention to all the statistics regarding earning potential by major, so we were all aware electrical engineers’ average starting salary in 2005 was $55,000/yr, definitely on the high end of entry-level Bachelor’s-degreed graduates. That never quite happened for me. I spent more than a year applying for jobs and barely even getting interviews while seeing better, more promising, higher-paying entry-level positions in just about every other part of the country. The standard reason many companies gave for not giving me a look on the positions I was applying for was that they needed someone with more experience. In a state where its top industry was on the decline, the grim reality of the situation was that very few entry-level jobs were available for young professionals like me, fresh out of college. After about the fiftieth time looking at a job posting and getting excited about how great the opportunity was and how I was a perfect fit for it, only to look further and learn the opportunity was elsewhere, I began to realize why people across this nation have called Michigan the “brain drain” and why the college graduates this state’s colleges and universities produce leave immediately upon graduation, many never to return.

The job I finally did end up obtaining was an hourly position doing far less than my schooling prepared me for, earning far less than what was commensurate to my educational attainment. By the time the economy finally started picking up a little bit (and I do mean a “little”) last year, I had been out of undergrad so long that my resume was no longer deemed attractive to employers for the technical jobs to which I had applied. All in all, you wouldn’t be incorrect in concluding that Michigan’s poor economy, coupled with my unique and perhaps untimely decision to return to my home state at the zenith of its decline, effectively shut me out of the career for which I spent so many years preparing.

In January of this year, however, I decided to be proactive and made the decision to allow the gifts God has placed in me to work for me, rather than for others who did not care for me or my professional development. Instead of waiting for a company to believe in me, I reaffirmed the belief I have in myself and began investing more time and resources into my own consulting company, using the talents and abilities I have honed throughout my life to help other professionals and build a life for my family. I know I’ve been blessed with too much intelligence and have been endowed too many gifts for me not to be making money, regardless of who my employer is. I have tapped into the entrepreneurial anointing God has placed over the city of Detroit, for it is this enterprising spirit that will rejuvenate, reform, and revitalize this region.

For every negative story that has been written about the city of Detroit and the state of Michigan, there are two more of individuals like me who have turned lemons into lemonade and have begun the important work of business development and redevelopment. Stories like these will never make the front page of the paper, but they must be told as often as possible. This economy and how it’s affected this one-trick pony of a state (at least until recently) will have you doubting yourself, wondering whether you truly have what it takes to reach your personal and professional goals, and questioning whether you’re making the right decision to even be here, but if you want to be here, nothing should stop you from doing so.

I took the road less traveled and came home to Detroit because I was led by God to do so. As the years have gone by, however, my commitment to the city has matured from a simple, God-ordained mandate to a deep-seeded, heartfelt passion for all Detroit everything. I started ministry and went to seminary here; I met my wife here; I started my family here; I began my business here, and if God wills it, when all is said and done and I’ve accomplished everything I’ve been called to do on this earth, I will die here. People, both abroad and here, badmouth my city consistently, but I defend it. State government legislation, local and national news agendas, and city corruption regularly put my city in the worst possible light, but I defend it. Others—family members, close friends, and coworkers—leave, but I stay and I defend my city. I will always stand up for Detroit because the indomitable spirit of her residents is unlike any I’ve seen in any other city in this nation. It is this spirit that will finally, sooner rather than later, help make the comeback we’ve been talking about for so long a reality.

I share my story not to discourage anyone from moving back to Detroit but actually to encourage the exact opposite. As I stated at the outset, the story of how my decision to come back here pretty much ended my engineering career before it even got started epitomized everything wrong with the state of Michigan in the previous decade. Conversely, my story and others like it illustrates the unquestionable truth that entrepreneurship and shared vision will revitalize the city of Detroit well before an influx of new and different industries will (as vital as they are). Collective collaboration will revitalize our communities.

For all of these reasons and so many more, the Detroit Diaspora means so much to me. Each of you had reasons for leaving Detroit, and those of you who return will do so because of another set of reasons. When you return, you’ll be doing so, informed by those reasons but empowered by the gifts and talents you have to bring to the table. These reasons, gifts, and talents comprise the heartbeat of this movement, which will endure for generations to come. As this Diaspora grows, we will encourage each other with our stories, offer our lessons learned, share our resources, patronize each other’s businesses, and work on the front line together in the community, working to breathe life to Detroit’s renaissance, one day, one person, one vision at a time. No matter how intense the negativity anyone tries to feed us about our city, we are never without hope, just as long as we vigorously and passionately seek community. Detroit will not die. We will not die.

Peace and Love, Marcus A. Cylar 05-13-2011

My story begins a few years back with a ritual of sorts - an act similar to one you  may have recently heard about.

In 2006, I was accepted into the J.D. Class of 2009 at the University of Miami in sunny Coral Gables, Florida. Excited wasn’t even the word; I was elated to know that I was going to be able to continue my education away from home in what I then saw as a welcomed respite from 21 years in the state of Michigan. When my bags were packed and all but ready to go, I took a trip to Briarwood Mall in Ann Arbor and grabbed a brand new, fresh Detroit Tigers fitted hat – size 7 3/8. Granted, I had already packed a slew of Michigan gear, as well as my Curtis Granderson jersey-tee and my Rasheed Wallace Pistons jersey (yes, you can officially blame me for both players no longer being in Detroit). But the hat was the final piece of the puzzle. No matter where I went in South Florida, EVERYONE was going to know where I was from.

And it worked.

It started conversations – about baseball and the Tigers’ 2006 World Series run; about Kwame, and everything that stems from him; about crime and urban decay; about the stagnating auto industry; about whether or not I was REALLY from Detroit, or some unknowable suburb. Yet even as the conversations began to become canned and mostly-if-not-purely focused on the negative, every year as Spring Training started to ramp up in Lakeland I was at the mall looking for a new hat to replace last year’s worn out edition.

Five years later, I still live outside of the city. Five years later, I still swear by my D hat.

It is against this backdrop that the allure of the Detroit Diaspora project spoke so clearly to me in ways that are hard to express. As an alumnus of two distinguished universities (Go Blue!/C-A-N-E-S, Canes!), you are often reminded of the number of living alums with whom you share a specific geographical radius at a given time. But that connection is ephemeral. I mean, sure, I went to the same college as President Gerald Ford and the same law school as the inimitable Reince Priebus. Yeah, I can walk down the street in DC or Silver Spring, MD or Arlignton, VA and see “Michigan Sociology/Law/Political Science/Hockey/Basketball/Football” t-shirts or Miami Hurricanes athletic gear and swell up with some kind of pride. But anyone who has ever received a phone call from their alma mater in search of donations understands just how weak that tie can truly be (“I’m sorry. I just don’t have anything to give right now.”).

Compare that to knowing that you and ten, a hundred, a thousand people as close as your neighbor or as far as an ocean away share the same loyalty and fidelity to the place that raised and formed you. Imagine dialoguing with people about more than just the dirty laundry that happened to reach CNN that morning, or the latest “ruin porn” that someone posted to Twitter or an oft-frequented blog. The chance that this Detroit Diaspora project can link the so-called lost social capital that has resulted from the Brain Drain effecting the State of Michigan is mind-boggling. How could something so simple have an effect so profound? As our city has become national news – a case-study serving as a “Patient Zero” of sorts in the fight to understand what can go wrong in a metropolis – a new pride has been awakened in some of its expatriates that has led to a number of not-so-cursory efforts to help save what many have written off. Small cells of individuals on both coasts and everywhere in between are beginning to pop up and talk to one another. Donations are being sent back in the wake of school closings and rumors of neighborhood consolidation (and that whole Robocop statue fiasco surely lit a fire under a number of out-of-state philanthropists). Though “unorganized”, these efforts are effective. So why not consolidate? It is that potential that has me intrigued.

We currently stand at the precipice, with the promise of a powerful mass movement afoot. The “lost” social capital of the city has been identified in enclaves across the country and around the world. We are a diaspora, and nothing says that we cannot become connected in meaningful ways that will shape the future of our city – no matter where we may currently call home. I love it, and I will do my best to be a part of the solutions that we can create. What about you?

Are you in?

I see this proven true almost every time I wear my favorite home-white Tigers hat around DC and when I travel. This past weekend on a trip my wife and I took down to South Carolina, I had two uplifting encounters with members of Detroit’s Diaspora thanks to my hat.

Walking from my office to catch a cab, I crossed paths with a man who asked if I was from Detroit after seeing my hat. I replied “No doubt” with a smile. We proceeded to talk for a few minutes, and I learned that he was from Detroit and had recently moved to the city. It turns out we work down the street from one another. We exchanged info and I asked him to check out Detroit Diaspora before ducking into a taxi.

While on the road my wife and I stopped at a Target in Virginia to buy some snacks. While in the store, a couple came up to me and inquired about…my Tigers hat. They asked “Are you from Detroit? Are you a Tigers fan? We are!” To all of this I replied yes. They asked about Comerica Park. It turns out that they had lived in VA for 20+ years but were originally from Saginaw. I told them my story and about, wait for it, Detroit Diaspora. They said their college-aged son had hopes to move back to MI. This warmed my heart, as did our whole conversation near the pretzel aisle.

The moral of the story: rep home. Rep it hard. It’ll open the door to amazing interactions with people who you may have never spoken to otherwise. We are attracted to the familiar and to people who outwardly express who they are and what they care about. For me, it’s home. Whatever it is for you, show it.

I asked her a few questions about her experience, and her answers follow.

What part of the Detroit area are you from? Do you still have family in the area?

I’m originally from the West Side of Detroit.  My family still lives is the Detroit area, but most have moved to the surrounding suburbs.

Where have you lived since you left Detroit?

I’ve lived in Chicago, Ghana (West Africa), Los Angeles, St. Louis and the DC area.

When did you first consider returning? When did you actually return?

This is my favorite part of the story.    Upon moving away, I’d come home regularly to visit family, friends, and to attend local arts events during holidays.  In 2008, those visit started to become more frequent.  During one of those visits I questioned myself…”If some of my favorite people were here and as well as some of my favorite things to do, why don’t I move back?”  I’d been home for a funeral during the Spring of 2009.  After the services, the impact of my family’s love really hit home.

Why did you return? How did your family/significant other/children feel about it?

There were two major factors that strongly influenced my decision to return:

1) I knew I had a lot of skills, and knew that any city I lived in would benefit from them. I also knew of the great challenges Detroit faced.  I wanted to be part of the solution.  I saw opportunity for great growth, and I knew that my background in education, curriculum development, youth advocacy, the arts, and community organizing could be put to great use.  Further, an elder and mentor (who currently resides in the city), asked me to consider leadership within a local institution.  I have a great respect for him and it was quite difficult to say no!  It was important to me to use my talents to support a city that was so instrumental to my growth and development.

2) The second major factor was family. Things change when you become a parent.  I wanted my son and future children to have regular access to the elders in our family.  Family and the development of it is about much more than exchanges of Christmas cards, e-mails, and photos.  I wanted my son to really know his family, and for them to know him.  Further, many of our relatives are aging.  I also wanted to be able to care for them, take them out for a spin, and benefit from their wisdom.  There’s nothing like the wisdom of an elder.    My family was VERY supportive and they looked forward to our return.

What are you doing in/around/for Detroit now?

I’m currently working in school leadership, and I’m assuming a directorship/principalship at an African-centered school in early summer.  I work to ensure that children have an outstanding, holistic education that affirms their gifts, their potential to succeed, their budding commitments to social justice, and honors their culture and history.  Our school community is also quite active in the food justice movement.  You’ve probably heard of the community farms and gardens taking over once vacant lots.  Our children learn about creating and sustaining harmony between themselves and the environment–part of that work is centered around food security and justice.  They learn how to grow their own food, and how to take leadership of that work in their neighborhoods. I’m also working with a great team to launch Detroit’s first Children’s Defense Fund Freedom School this summer.

What message do you want to share with other people in Detroit’s Diaspora?

Detroit is alive.  Don’t let the media fool you.  The challenges are big, but the love, creativity, and skills in this city are greater. Within us is the ability to make and be the change we want to see.  I challenge you to join us.  Peace and respect.

Thank you Elizabeth. Your story is an inspiring example of how and why people returning home can have an impact.

You wouldn’t know that by the Detroit Decimation Porn that has been the most resilient major media fetish of the last five years. It makes me want to spit at my computer screen now. I get showing images and telling stories with the intent to educate. But it’s clear to me that nothing new is coming out of that noise: what was once educational is now irresponsible and exploitative.

I am neither a denier nor an apologist for what’s happening in Detroit. It’s tough. Real tough. The 2010 Census says the city has lost 25% of its population in the last 10 years. That fact is jarring but unsurprising.

Like most hard truths this presents both a set of challenges and a set of opportunities. Too many people dwell on the former, lacking purpose and direction. Instead, I’m choosing to approach the latter in a way that suits my current skill set and station in life.

I introduce to you Detroit Diaspora: From Detroit. For Detroit.

Grave challenges in Detroit’s public school system drove my parents to decide to move our young family out of the city to its northwest suburbs. They felt forced to choose between their child’s education and their love for Detroit, the only city they’d known. The Census data shows that more and more individuals and families are facing the same choice every day. This opens up a unique opportunity.

Detroit Diaspora is based on the premise that a strong way to rebuild Detroit’s human capital is to leverage the human capital that Detroit and it’s neighbors built. Southeastern Michigan has birthed, educated and trained hundreds of thousands of brilliant, hardworking leaders that have contributed their time, talents and treasure to the well-being of places all over the country and the world. Detroit’s most valuable export is its people.

Many move physically, as I did after graduating from the University of Michigan to pursue a career in software development. But most don’t move emotionally. Many of these travelers have family in the area. They faithfully read the Detroit Free Press, Detroit News, Michigan Chronicle, etc. more than the local papers in their new cities. They perk up when they hear the word Detroit at a bar or a party and initiate conversations with people about their home. And it’s over if they find somebody who also hails from Southeastern Michigan: just call it a night.

Being an organizer, whose passion is in connecting community energy and common purpose to world-changing goals, I see great potential for Detroit in the energy of these current expatriates.

• What if everyone that ever thought about moving back home to Detroit actually did?
• What if they maintained connections with the fearless changemakers building Detroit’s future and supported them with ideas and resources?
• What if every native Detroiter changed the prevailing Detroit doomsday narrative one conversation at a time?
• What if every native Detroiter knew of and was connected to every other native Detroiter in their city?

We are only limited by our imaginations when trying to envision what would be possible if we mapped and connected the Detroit Diaspora. When you connect people to one another that share common bonds, sparks are lit, fires are started and lives are changed forever.

Detroit Diaspora is about making those connections and being a platform for this community. As we grow, we’ll decide how to proceed together. I have a few ideas about what can be done through this community, but there are infinite possibilities:

1. Diaspora Map. Who makes up the Diaspora? Where are they? What are they doing today? Who do they know? Through Detroit Diaspora we’ll draw this map together.
2. Detroit Stories. People sharing their stories and vision for home and how they plan on contributing. For those that do return home, people will share how and why they did so. Detroit Diaspora will be a platform where these stories are told and shared.
3. Detroit Circles. Everyone has a story and a place. Each place can form a Circle, where people interact face-to-face. People will soon be able to find and join Detroit Circles.

These are just a few ideas, by no means the extent of what’s possible or what will happen. The ideas and opportunities will flow as the community grows. So join and grow the community first. Let’s do our part to contribute to the future of Detroit.

Fellow native Detroiters, join me on this Detroit Diaspora journey today. Please share this with your friends and family.

One Love. One II.