Bernie Sanders: Slouching through Sandtown

Bernie Sanders: Slouching through Sandtown
Democratic presidential candidate Senator Bernie Sanders tours Sandtown with Pastor Jamal Bryant. (J.M. Giordano/City Paper)

Vermont Senator and Democratic presidential candidate Bernie Sanders swept through Baltimore last week to meet with African-American faith leaders who had gathered here from around the country. At a press conference afterward, Sanders said he and the pastors from Baltimore, Chicago, Ferguson, D.C., Tallahassee, and New York discussed three pressing issues at their ecumenical round table: education, the Black Lives Matter movement, and the lack of financial investment in black communities.

Sanders kicked off his visit with a brief walking tour of the Sandtown-Winchester neighborhood.


I can't imagine that he saw anything.

Though Sanders walked, accompanied by pastor Jamal Bryant of Empowerment Temple AME who kept his arm protectively around the senator the whole time, the press of media—dozens of cameras and a circus of reporters—certainly blocked his view of anything. Nonetheless, he made the tour. Past the Gilmor Homes. Past the blocks with boarded-up windows. Past the giant mural of Freddie Gray. Reporters outnumbered residents 10 to 1 on the streets and dutifully kept their cameras and iPhone recorders on Sanders, tripping over broken bottles, garbage cans, crumbling stoops with their eyes on the prize, a close-up of the presidential hopeful.

Sanders' assessment of the 'hood he never really saw? "You'd think we were in a third-world country." (Aside: Baltimoreans full of the underdog's civic pride may bristle defensively here but I think some righteous indignation is called for; our city should not look like this, it should not be like this.)

Still, there's something vaguely distasteful, a hint of "slumming it" to have a presidential candidate come touring Sandtown—though I suppose this doesn't differ from the kind of run-of-the-mill disaster tourism politicians always do on the heels of say, hurricanes and earthquakes and floods. Except, in this case, it's a man-made disaster the visitor is assessing.

The purpose is vague. Do we expect epiphanies? Ahh, so this is how the other half lives! Or to give Sanders the benefit of the doubt, maybe the whole point was to let Americans—via the national media who shadow him—get a glimpse of the struggle, a visceral image of urban blight, a sense of what poverty looks like as it bears down on people in the form of boarded-up buildings, shuttered shops, tattered bodegas with their plexiglass cashier cubes.

But it didn't work. Not one journalist I saw in this mighty crew of national press swung their camera away from the Sanders vortex to look outward, to see our Sandtown-Winchester, to pay tribute to the struggle.

Whatever the intent, it came off as slumming.

And I say this, but I say it with fondness like, "Yo, Bernie, really? You're better than this." Because I like Bernie Sanders. He hits all the right bases.

He talked about the high unemployment rate in the black community. He said he would raise minimum wage to $15. When he mentioned wages, he remembered to point out that women are only making 79 cents for every dollar men make. He touched on the issue of better funding for historically black colleges and universities. (Aside: Until recently, I was a professor at Morgan State University, a historically black university that is desperately underfunded and is one of four HBCUs that sued the state for equitable funding.) He promised that when he was president, he would make all public universities tuition-free. (Aside: I'm the parent of a college student in a public university.) He slammed the high incarceration rate, insisting "every American should be deeply ashamed" that we spend $80 billion a year "locking up our fellow Americans." (Aside: Remember that FBI data tells us that most of the arrests in this country are for drugs, most are for possession rather than distribution, and most are for marijuana—and remember also that I am the mother of the aforementioned college student who I'm sure would never ever "possess" weed let alone smoke it because he walks around with a little halo above his head, of course, but I worry for his friends.) He said that whenever anyone dies in police custody there should be a federal investigation. (Aside: I spent a day last week at Officer William Porter's trial in the death of Freddie Gray and I think such mandatory federal investigations are a fine idea.)

And as he toured Sandtown-Winchester, he rightly insisted that there should be ATMs and bank branches in the neighborhood (rather than check-cashing stores that charge a chunk of change for each transaction), and good grocery stores and strong schools.

He's right; who am I to throw shade?

After all, Sanders got street cred from a few residents simply for making the trek. (Snide aside: if not actual votes.)

Larry Ryan, a 21-year-old resident of Sandtown-Winchester, stood on the edges of the shoulder-to-shoulder media crowd that precluded any possible, even teeny-tiny glimpse of the completely eclipsed Sanders, and admired the senator for at least visiting the area. "He strong," Ryan said. "Walk the streets like this, he strong. Ain't nobody else walking through here."

"This is why I'm voting for him," Ryan's friend said, edging in on our conversation and pulling at my Sanders-issued press pass to point at the Bernie 2016 slogan on the press credentials: "Let's start a revolution today!" He ran his fingers along the phrase, a caress. "This right here is why I'm voting for him."


"You registered to vote?" I asked.

Both men shrugged, shook their heads, and Ryan answered sheepishly, "I should be."