If you’re reading this, you’re probably not a Detroiter. You’re probably White, male, and between 25-35. That’s who reads this rag and it pretty much guarantees you don’t live south of 8 Mile.

And yet, if someone from out of town asks you, you say you are a Detroiter. Why is that? What’s the cachet to claiming to be from a city that you and/or your parents abandoned many, many years ago? A city that the mere mention of produces an unending range of negative thoughts, gestures, words and feelings when you’re with your peer and family groups? You shake your head, shudder and sip your beer, unable to imagine what life is like in the 313.

And yet, you say you are a Detroiter. Why is that? Is it the blue collar/tough guy image we’ve been peddled all these years? “I’m from the Motor City. I work hard, play hard and will mess you up if you get in my way.” Is that it? Is it pride in the glory days, back when we had an economy? Maybe when Detroit was the City of Champions, when all the Detroit sports teams played their games in Detroit?

You say you are a Detroiter. Where do you live exactly? Uh huh. And when was the last time you did more than drive through the city on your way to somewhere else? Uh huh. Actually, I don’t care so much about the When as the Why. Did you come into the city for any other reason than to attend a sporting event, concert or because you work or go to school in the city? I’ll ask all that another way: If you didn’t have to come into the city for any of those reasons, would you? Uh huh.

It might seem that I’ve discounted a lot of activities there. “What else is there to do in a city?” That’s a pretty telling and disturbing statement, my friend. For starters, do you ever go downtown just to go to dinner? Ever been to the Art Institute, the Fox or the Symphony? Ever shopped at Pewabic, or sat on Belle Isle on a Saturday watching the big ships ply up the river? Have you ever wandered around Campus Martius, or anywhere more than five steps from Ford Field, Comerica Park, the Joe or Greektown? Uh huh.

To a certain extent, I can’t really blame you. Detroit is a pitiful mess of a city. It and the surrounding area we live in are very spread out. The highpoints of the city are like a string of Christmas tree lights, with many of the bulbs burned out. There’s a point of light near the WSU campus and the cultural center, another at the Fox/Ford/CoPa nexus, others around Orchestra Hall, Mexicantown, the New Center area. There are some more, but the composite looks more like a kids Connect-the-Dots drawing than a work of art.

So why is that, Mr. Detroiter? Why do we let older neighborhoods and facilities rot and die? We don’t even bother tearing things down that we don’t use anymore. We leave them up to fend for themselves. And why does this happen? Why aren’t there resources to convert old factories into loft apartments or preserve locations of historical or architectural significance? Because… all us Detroiters took our resources and got the hell outta there, that’s why.

For all the bitching that Chicagoans do about what doesn’t work there, they have a diversified economy, a very good public transportation system, credible city services, world class universities, architecture and museums all in a nicely synergistic relationship with livable communities within and without the city limits. And the only time someone says they’re from Chicago is if they live in one of those city neighborhoods. If you live in Evanston or Oak Park, you can say you’re from Chicagoland if you like, but you don’t claim to live in the city. That’s not from embarrassment or horror. It’s what you do if you don’t actually live in Chicago.

So what are we then? What do you call people who live on the perimeter of a place that used to/could again be a city? You can call us the Abandoned, the Disenfranchised and the Cheated, because that is what we are. You could also call us the Perpetrators of Our Own Demise, because that’s what we are, too. We’ve been given permission to and have happily taken advantage of a two faced, contradictory, I Want My Cake But I’m Not Gonna Pay For It position. We insist on driving everywhere, and bitch about the price of gas or lack of good mass transit. We point to the lack of city services, while we discreetly refuse to contribute to the tax base that makes those services possible by not living, working or investing there and dealing with the city’s issues. If we really were Detroiters, we’d be working harder to rescue our baby. We’d speak to our congress people, talk with area corporations and civic leaders and pitch in on our own in small, local ways. Do we do that? Do you? For a group of people that pride themselves on supposedly having traditional, working class, blue-collar values, we’re a sorry lot.

How long do you think we can live with an unsupported, deteriorating city at the core of Southeastern Michigan? If Detroit goes, make no mistake – we all go with it. Imagine the city as a rotting first floor of a high rise occupied by Wyandotte, Canton, Clarkston and Sterling Heights, etc. on the floors above. Yeah, it’s something like that.

We need a city at the core of this area that we can all be proud of. One that we can hang out in and get around in, safely and conveniently. That we can LIVE IN for Chrissake, not just visit isolated pockets of, before scurrying home to our cubbies in the ‘burbs when the visit is over.

Art may hate you, but I don’t respect you when you thoughtlessly call yourself a Detroiter. Find another name for yourself until you’re ready to deal. That’s my Big Fat Opinion for this week. Tell me yours.

Until then, heed our Weekly Words of Wisdom:

Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth.

- Katherine Mansfield

Next issue: What I’d do if I had a billion dollars to jumpstart a turnaround. Why not join me in fantasizing about Developing the Cure by sending an email to mmtym@detroitbuzz.com or posting a message on the messageboard? All ideas are welcome.