Theme: The Perpetual "Prison" of Institutional Racism
"People who lived in Murphy Homes felt like prisoners, kept in check by roving bands of gun-strapped kids and a nightmare army of drug fiends." (page 27)
In this quote, the residents of Murphy Homes-- low-income projects built specifically for those of African-American descent-- are compared to prisoners in a jail. This reinforces the theme of institutional racism, which is akin to imprisonment to those who fall victim to it. Because the federal government didn't provide sufficient housing for the residents of Murphy Homes, they must instead turn to illicit measures of raising income, like selling drugs. The police are absent in this world ruled by gangs and drug dealers, except to commit violence against the people who are a part of it-- much like the classical sadistic prison guards that hurt more than they protect.
"Tony felt his brother's life could be saved, even if he felt his own had already, at age fourteen, passed the point of no return." (page 27)
Here it is clear that although Tony is not in an actual prison, he certainly feels trapped. Unlike a higher-income white child, who could always turn to counseling or rehab, Tony has no choices. The institutional racism that put him in the projects to begin with-- and, more symbolically, put the projects in him-- has also stuck him in a cycle of poverty, where he feels as if he has no choice but to continue his lifestyle of drug selling and gang violence.
"There was never a question that Cherry Hill wasn't built as a sustainable community for its families. Isolated and desolate, it had no main streets. Small, poorly constructed, faux-brick homes lined the streets like dormitories." (page 29)
The imagery used in this quote is strikingly similar to a description of a prison complex. The houses are small and all look alike, similar to prison blocks or jail cells. The poor construction is only a preview to what is found inside, buildings in utter disrepair because of the lack of upkeep by landlords who couldn't care less about the people living in them. The tie to institutional racism is clear here; the words "wasn't built as" place the blame on the federal government, who planned and constructed Cherry Hill in the first place. The government, with all of its on-paper "good intentions," in practice only work to reinforce the prison complex that already haunts low-income black communities in The Other Wes Moore.
"He lifted all eighty pounds of Wes off the ground, slamming him facefirst on the trunk of the police cruiser. Wes's chest collapsed against the trunk of the car, sending pain throughout his entire body... he tried to plead his case to the police officer as he closed the second cuff on Wes's eight-year-old wrists." (pages 34-5)
This description of police brutality is even stronger when one considers more recent accounts of racial profiling and police violence in New York. It is hard to imagine an eight-year-old rich white boy, no matter the circumstances, being thrown against a police car as if he is nothing but a sack of garbage-- one that poses a serious threat to humanity, no less. The inhumane treatment of a boy who is really still just a child, as well as his subsequent arrest and release without any type of outside help or counseling that would typically be available to a higher-income child who found himself in a difficult situation, makes clear the connection between institutional racism-- which allows the police officer to handle Wes as if he is nothing more than an animal-- and the prison it forms-- which ensures that Wes will always remain an animal unless he works very hard to change it.
"Whole blocks were abandoned, buildings blackened and hollowed out by fires set by arsonists-- many of whom were in the employ of landlords looking to cash out of the deteriorating ghetto. I didn't have much of a frame of reference back then, though. I didn't know that drug fiends were still making use of those abandoned buildings for activities that would've blown my mind, or that the swollen hands on the man leaning against a telephone pole by himself-- eyes flickering, head nodding-- were telltale signs of needle injections." (page 43)
The world that Wes describes is not a particularly nurturing one for any young child. While higher-income children would grow up in the suburbs among white picket fences and perfectly groomed gardens, Wes and his counterparts grow up among drug dealers and gang wars. The institutional and social segregation by race and income reinforces the "prison" that boys like Tony find themselves stuck in. Living among drug addicts, it is much more likely that one will someday become a drug addict too-- the cycle is encouraged to continue more than it is to end, with practices that inevitably lead to a more literal form of imprisonment.
"People who lived in Murphy Homes felt like prisoners, kept in check by roving bands of gun-strapped kids and a nightmare army of drug fiends." (page 27)
In this quote, the residents of Murphy Homes-- low-income projects built specifically for those of African-American descent-- are compared to prisoners in a jail. This reinforces the theme of institutional racism, which is akin to imprisonment to those who fall victim to it. Because the federal government didn't provide sufficient housing for the residents of Murphy Homes, they must instead turn to illicit measures of raising income, like selling drugs. The police are absent in this world ruled by gangs and drug dealers, except to commit violence against the people who are a part of it-- much like the classical sadistic prison guards that hurt more than they protect.
"Tony felt his brother's life could be saved, even if he felt his own had already, at age fourteen, passed the point of no return." (page 27)
Here it is clear that although Tony is not in an actual prison, he certainly feels trapped. Unlike a higher-income white child, who could always turn to counseling or rehab, Tony has no choices. The institutional racism that put him in the projects to begin with-- and, more symbolically, put the projects in him-- has also stuck him in a cycle of poverty, where he feels as if he has no choice but to continue his lifestyle of drug selling and gang violence.
"There was never a question that Cherry Hill wasn't built as a sustainable community for its families. Isolated and desolate, it had no main streets. Small, poorly constructed, faux-brick homes lined the streets like dormitories." (page 29)
The imagery used in this quote is strikingly similar to a description of a prison complex. The houses are small and all look alike, similar to prison blocks or jail cells. The poor construction is only a preview to what is found inside, buildings in utter disrepair because of the lack of upkeep by landlords who couldn't care less about the people living in them. The tie to institutional racism is clear here; the words "wasn't built as" place the blame on the federal government, who planned and constructed Cherry Hill in the first place. The government, with all of its on-paper "good intentions," in practice only work to reinforce the prison complex that already haunts low-income black communities in The Other Wes Moore.
"He lifted all eighty pounds of Wes off the ground, slamming him facefirst on the trunk of the police cruiser. Wes's chest collapsed against the trunk of the car, sending pain throughout his entire body... he tried to plead his case to the police officer as he closed the second cuff on Wes's eight-year-old wrists." (pages 34-5)
This description of police brutality is even stronger when one considers more recent accounts of racial profiling and police violence in New York. It is hard to imagine an eight-year-old rich white boy, no matter the circumstances, being thrown against a police car as if he is nothing but a sack of garbage-- one that poses a serious threat to humanity, no less. The inhumane treatment of a boy who is really still just a child, as well as his subsequent arrest and release without any type of outside help or counseling that would typically be available to a higher-income child who found himself in a difficult situation, makes clear the connection between institutional racism-- which allows the police officer to handle Wes as if he is nothing more than an animal-- and the prison it forms-- which ensures that Wes will always remain an animal unless he works very hard to change it.
"Whole blocks were abandoned, buildings blackened and hollowed out by fires set by arsonists-- many of whom were in the employ of landlords looking to cash out of the deteriorating ghetto. I didn't have much of a frame of reference back then, though. I didn't know that drug fiends were still making use of those abandoned buildings for activities that would've blown my mind, or that the swollen hands on the man leaning against a telephone pole by himself-- eyes flickering, head nodding-- were telltale signs of needle injections." (page 43)
The world that Wes describes is not a particularly nurturing one for any young child. While higher-income children would grow up in the suburbs among white picket fences and perfectly groomed gardens, Wes and his counterparts grow up among drug dealers and gang wars. The institutional and social segregation by race and income reinforces the "prison" that boys like Tony find themselves stuck in. Living among drug addicts, it is much more likely that one will someday become a drug addict too-- the cycle is encouraged to continue more than it is to end, with practices that inevitably lead to a more literal form of imprisonment.
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