By definition, a dialogue is a conversation. When there is a conversation, two engage in an interchange of thoughts or ideas. A harangue is a scolding. The harangue can be in the form of a heartfelt speech or sermon. Now, when speaking of the film New Segregations: A Video Dialogue, a question is posed: Will the film create dialogue in this city between the children and adults that are interviewed, or will the film just be a harangue to vent about frustrations?
As an educator, it disheartens me to hear students I have taught say that teachers don’t care and do not listen. It hurts when it is made clear that what I have said about patience, perseverance and dedication does not seem to matter. It scares me to hear children say that the only way to an end is to quit. [As] to the young people in New Segregations, this all means [that] I have somehow failed in my attempt to set an example and show them another way.
I, too, grew up in the public housing of Asheville. There are other adults in the city who have gone away and come back to Asheville to help the children. But during my viewing of New Segregations, all I could hear is that we don’t understand, we don’t listen, and we don’t care. My family raised me from a house on Gaston Street to 1-A Lee Walker Heights. And during those times, I thought the future looked bleak.
Raising a family as a single parent is hard. I can feel the frustrations of the parents in the movie, as I was a single parent up until my marriage in 2004. My mother was a single mom and raised three children in public housing. I was a single dad and raised two young men. I know what it is like to wonder where food will come from, where the rent money will come from, whether I will have enough gas to drive 72 miles one-way to work and then back.
I say to the children and parents: Please, do not give up hope. But also, when you need help, ask. There are those—teachers, police, businesspersons—who would love to sit, talk and lend a hand. You may not see us all the time, but we are around, trying to find ways to help. We stay late at school, we write grants to take students to concerts and plays, we visit families, we give out our phone numbers, we tell children we love them.
To watch a film and hear that you don’t care breaks your heart. But, I will personally not let it break my spirit. I made a vow to come back to Asheville and help the children. I cannot speak for anyone else who saw the movie, but the vow I made, I intend to see through. No movie, dialogue or harangue is going to get me sidetracked from what I must do.
— Cedric Nash
Asheville
