When we talk about citizenship, we usually think about membership on a large scale. You're a citizen of a nation, of the world. Some of us are even lucky enough to have dual or multiple citizenships. Those of us who call one country home sometimes envy those with more than one passport.
But really, we're all dual citizens. At the very least. For instance: You go to school at Washington University in St. Louis. Let me repeat; in St. Louis. No matter whether or not you ever acknowledge or admit it, you are here. Part of the fabric, stitched into the tapestry of streets, vacant lots, stone mansions, restaurants, neighborhoods, tensions, and treasures.
But we've all heard the warnings. Stay in the bubble, stay South of Delmar, west of Skinker. If you get bold, make the Loop or Demun your playground...
We're begging you, get bolder.
Try the rye bread at an anarchist bakery on Cherokee Street. Watch the sun rise over the graffitti-bedazzled flood wall by the River. There's more to this than gutted factories, more than the arch, more than the county. But those places hold shards of the unexpected, too.
If you let it, this city can seduce you. It can also knock the wind out of you. It is a city cut in pieces by red lines and fancy gates.
Redefine your definition poverty, of blight; know that there may be more life around those old, broken red-brick shotgun houses than in the cleanest cookie-cutter department store. The problems are real, but they are not the end of this story.
Will you know the city? Will you let it know you? Will you let the city teach you, thrill you, and change you? Will you leave here having changed it? The city is within you or without you. You decide. How much distance truly exists and how much of that distance have you created?
Wander this path and examine the reflections. Interconnection. See the city. See yourself.
