The Wrong Kind of White Person

So, the great social experiment has failed.

That's the undertow in the wave of opinions following a recent attack in Shaker Heights, Ohio, which has long had a national reputation for successful integration.

A white, middle-aged man, known for his big heart and progressive values, was badly beaten last week by six black teens from Cleveland, which borders the affluent suburb. Much of the reaction to this random act of violence has been fraught with code:

The victim was once a "public defender." (He used to fight for those people.)

He and his family live in an "integrated" neighborhood. (And they beat up the do-gooder anyway.)

Residents, fearing for their lives, are leaving in droves for whiter pastures. (White people can only trust other white people.)

It's the dance on a grave full of good intentions, particularly by whites who resent scrutiny of their own homogenous neighborhoods. To them, the ideal of Shaker Heights, celebrated for successfully integrating its schools and neighborhoods, was just a liberal fantasy.

White people, they say, must face reality and flee.

What white people might these be?

Two years ago, I left the Shaker Heights I love — for marriage, not fear — to a community full of people who look like me. One of my earliest introductions to the new neighborhood happened in a grocery, when a man made it clear that he recognized me and did not like my view of the world.

"You know," he said loudly, "there are plenty of people here who think you had no business moving to this community."

To him, I was the wrong kind of white person.

Far worse, one of the few black families who live nearby told us that someone threw a firecracker through their front window shortly after they moved in.

It's not a beating, but it sure doesn't feel white-people friendly.

Do I think most people in our new community are racist — or even mean? No.

In fact, some have apologized for those who've publicized their distaste for our kind of white people.

Hatred resides in every neighborhood. So does good intention. And there are plenty of black citizens outraged over the Shaker beating, including at least two parents of the teens involved. This is everybody's problem, everybody's nightmare.

In the wake of the Shaker beating, I keep thinking of all the time I've spent in Cleveland's black neighborhoods in my 20 or so years here as a journalist.

I've knocked on the doors of parents hours after they lost children to violence, spent countless evenings on front porches talking about everything from local politics to the Iraq war. I've gotten more than my fair share of gardening advice, too, including how to grow the biggest tomatoes.

Not once has a black person ever told me I don't belong in his neighborhood.

For that, I had to move where everyone looks just like me.

Connie Schultz is a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland and the author of two books from Random House: "Life Happens" and "… and His Lovely Wife." To find out more about Connie Schultz (cschultz@plaind.com) and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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