I remember the education I received outside of the four walls of a classroom by my family growing up. I used to sit in my grandmother’s office, where she worked as a non-profit executive, specializing in empowering youth. I would sit on my grandfather’s porch on 44th & Boulevard, listening to the stories from the Haughville days so eloquently told by my aunts and uncles. We’d spend our summers around the neighborhood without a care in the world, and any problem we had was shut down by one of the many OG’s saying, “They’re good.”
I remember toggling between the “Gold Building,” the City-County Building and the City Market with my dad as he’d navigate the ins and outs of casework. Gifted Pacers tickets from his firm during the 90’s allowed me to see Reggie Miller in his prime, a moment that gave Indianapolis the small-town relevancy we didn’t know we needed. Back then downtown seemed like the biggest place in the world – and my days spent at the Minton-Capehart Federal Building daycare center were coupled with visits to the Central Library and War Memorial Park; years later I’d help pass out lunches to thousands around that same spot and watch protestors inspired a new generation of change agents.
I remember Indiana Black Expo and Circle City Classic as spaces where I saw an (almost) overwhelming percentage of people that looked like me. The excitement that went into those weekends was unparalleled, coupled with the lead up found in scholarship programs and department stores dressing rooms. I spent long hours working at Finish Line at Circle Centre Mall as people flocked into Indianapolis looking for the best “fit” for the weekend (one of these days we’re going to have a conversation about how no one – and I mean no one – dressed well during the years spanning from 2001 – 2009). Hotels and restaurants hated us; young black kids trying to have a good time has always been – how shall we say, interesting for those in positions of authority.
I remember sitting in the Mayor’s Conference Room on the 25th floor of the City-County Building as a junior in high school and getting my first look into politics. Years later I sat in that same room during a cabinet meeting as a junior-level staffer and thinking to myself, “keep working.” Whether I was learning the difficulties that come with governing or realizing the important role young(er) people play in making this city better, it reinforced the importance of hard work, but also accountability.
I remember so much about this city, specifically as it relates to where we’ve been. For some of us, “Indy” is “Nap”. As much as it is this bourgeoisie space of growing young professionals drinking local distilled beverages, it’s also late nights spent at the eastside rink (or Skateland on the westside on Sundays) where the 12’s (speakers for those of you in the back) in your friend’s trunk provide the soundtrack for the evening. As much as its civic engagement, being a foodie, and “networking up,” it is also voices that fall on deaf ears, food deserts, and low-wage hourly jobs. We don’t like to talk about it, but it’s important that we acknowledge that we still have much work to do. As much as we tout being “One City” from a numbers and metrics standpoint, we totally miss the human aspect.
Over the past few weeks and months, I’ve seen an uptick in messaging related to Black lives in Indianapolis. It’s much appreciated and while requests like, “How do I help?” certainly do not fall on deaf ears – I hope that we (as a city) understand the importance of doing more than just checking a box by posting a black square on our Instagram feed (by the way – black people on your feed > blackout square on your feed). While I’d love to find data on this, I’m sure interpersonal relationships play a role in driving the changes we wish to see. It’s great that you’re supporting a movement that has been propped up by giants of the past and propelled by innovative thinkers and disrupters (most specifically young black women), but how does that impact your day-to-day?
When you look at leadership programs, do you see more than the industry standard three-to-four black people (yes, this is something black folks talk about all the time)?
When you look at the themed house parties on the weekends, do you see any black folks there?
When there’s a race-related issue, you’re going to reach out to your black friend, but are you reaching out at any other time?
We have certainly taken strides from the days of old, but there are pieces of my experiences that are completely foreign to many. Those pieces made me who I am – and have allowed me the opportunity to meet people who have helped me develop an awareness of the importance of keeping a diverse circle. I’m not just checking a box, I keep that mindset because the differences that have divided us, consistently provide me with the opportunity to learn and grow.
Change isn’t going to happen through hashtags, nor is it going to happen overnight, but at the very least we can acknowledge our differences in hopes of learning about the many pieces of this city we care about. I imagine a city that places emphasis on stepping outside of our comfort zones, but it’s us – as individuals – who are going to play the most pivotal role in driving the kind of changes we wish to see.
Greg Stowers is a lifelong resident of Indianapolis and has been focused on engagement, exposure and empowerment throughout his career. He currently serves as Key Club International Director working on behalf of more than 250,000 students and 5,000 adult volunteers in more than 38 countries around the globe. He’s worked on a number of political campaigns and started a non-profit initiative called Hashtag Lunchbag Indy, which has provided meals for more than 30,000 people around Central Indiana. He sits on various boards and works with community partners on various initiatives. He graduated from Indiana State University, with a degree in Political Science with a concentration in International Relations.
