In a city known to many for murder, poverty, inequality and lethargy, it is beyond gratifying to see Detroit transform into something beautiful — even if it is only for a weekend.
When someone asks me what part of Michigan I come from, it's fairly difficult to convey and even more difficult for the other person to grasp. I'm from Farmington Hills, Mich., which is firmly located in the northern suburbs of Detroit in Oakland County — about a 30 minute drive from Detroit.
So technically, when someone from the suburban Oakland County gets asked, "Where are you from?" it's applicable to reply "Metro Detroit." Unfortunately, this description of locality couldn't be more wrong.
Anyone from the "Metro Detroit" area knows that the suburbs and city suffer from one of the biggest disparities in both poverty and segregation. It's the equivalent of "living on the other side of the train tracks," an expression which my city-dwelling cousins and I used to take almost literally.
So what does this all mean? Simple — it means we don't go to Detroit. It means that coming from an area located less than 30 minutes out of the city that's labeled as "Metro Detroit," I barely know anyone from my hometown who goes, wants to go, knows their way around, or even wants anything to do with Detroit. A lot of the time that group includes me.
Our parents tell us to stay away from alleys and corners, we leave our credit cards on the counter at home during trips to Tigers games (in case we get mugged), and you would be hard pressed to find one of us who actually knows people in the city on a firsthand basis. Why should we?
As an exception, almost my entire family is based in Detroit, which has disgustingly cut down on the amount of time I've been allowed to spend with them. Instead of blaming myself, I've always blamed the city.
Even movies make stabs at Detroit for its unspeakable rawness. I remember critics of "8 Mile" back when it was popular who were upset at its portrayal of a desolate wasteland, saturated in a draining industrial haze of meagerness and crime. If you ask me, it was almost too Hollywood. Anyone who thinks differently obviously doesn't have family on the East Side.
It's hilarious when out-of-towners stare with amazement when we state proudly, "I'm on 8 Mile all the time." If they only knew, "8 Mile" means 8 Mile and Haggerty, to hit up the Livonia Starbucks on the way to P.F. Chang's.
But it isn't the crime, color or money that deters most of us from making runs to Detroit, it's the sense of dry detachment and lacking livelihood.
There is nothing worse than being in a car full of eager peers and watching the abandoned building/liquor store/abandoned building-lineup reflect in the passenger-side window. However, thanks to events like the Detroit Electronic Music Festival, the downtown area is slowly being revitalized.
Which is one of the main reasons that my friends and I all jump at the chance to make it to the annual festival. We really want to be in the city, we want it to feel truly animated, and we desperately desire for it to be organic and exuberant. For three days in May, the festival entertains all of our desires.
For once, the streets are covered in people. Swirling lights, booming base and cheerful chants consume the air of the city. Restaurants blur with glowing streams of neon invitation, while clubs and casinos flicker with excitement and the sky beams with intersecting spotlights.
Downtown Detroit is given a pulse. No, it's given more than a pulse. In fact, I bet that if you brought a Tibetan monk to the city during any one of the three days, you would have an easy time convincing him that this is one of the hottest districts in Manhattan.
More importantly, the people are full of life. Everyone is smiling, dancing, singing and laughing. In a city portrayed with such negativity, it's incredible to find yourself surrounded by love. Arabs and Jews, blacks and whites, gays and Catholics, rich and poor — for once everyone is in complete harmony.
If this weekend proved anything, it's that the music brought us all together. However, it's important for everyone to realize that the city of Detroit did too. I just wish it would do that on a daily basis.
Stephen Patterson is the State News entertainment reporter, reach him at patte294@msu.edu.
