A conversation about race relations in Dubuque

By Tim Trenkle

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After the dialogue with Dubuque police at the Multicultural Center on Nov. 9, we loosened up. Twenty-eight people, backs to the four walls, hands folded, stern and furrowed brows, mirroring those in tin chairs at the opposite wall, now disbanded.

Pink shirted, a black moderator of the city had said it was important to address last month's “miscommunication.” The moderator said the meetings concerned “ ... conversation.”

What do we make of it?

“We apologize for not having a more effective way to communicate to you ...” This concerned the canceled last meeting. Heads turned and quizzical features suggested a lack of clarity.

Later, as we walked down the street toward City Hall, streetlights hovered over us like the thoughts we shared about the tense race relations in Dubuque.

“Why we are here ... this issue of race ...,” the moderator had said.

“Are you aware that there's racial profiling going on in your department?” Jonathan Cheatham had driven a nail with a first question to the police.

They had not seen it, they said. Other 9-inch spikes were defended with a change of topic. My wife and I and friend Jonathan reviewed as we walked.

One man said he'd been pepper sprayed after a traffic violation. He said he was ridiculed. He felt humiliated. His wife smiled with a snarl. One woman referred to an arrest after a Bible study. Taken to jail, she was ridiculed by white women in a nearby cell. Meeting response noted the firing of an involved officer. Nothing about the reason or time of the firing.

Halfway to City Hall, we stopped walking. “I don't think anything was accomplished,” I said.

“It wasn't,” Jonathan stirred.

“We need to have more conversations like this,” the moderator had said. We doubted.

Anthony Allen, a member of the Human Rights Commision, stopped to chat. He said the trouble is that economics are embedded. It's not race but crime.

“I get the sense, I mean, you're not compromising the issue, are you?” I said, staring at Anthony, the lone black on the commission.

“Man, look at this. You walk into Player's bar. It's not the African American element. It's the thugs. You want to step on someone's shoes at that place? No!”

Soon, Tiffani Allen stopped. We spoke politics, race, common sense. Three of us black, two of us white.

“You know,” Anthony said, “When we black people get together, we break bread.”

While he talked, Tiffani shared a recipe with my wife. We stood under the city clock, warming hands in pockets and, hearts in plain speaking.

When done, we shared phone numbers. We hugged. Each of us will bring friends to one home. Black and white.

Tim Trenkle of Dubuque is a freelance writer and teaches psychology and writing at Northeast Iowa Community College. He has also worked as a social worker and done assessments for municipal court systems regarding violent offenders. Comments:

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