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For three young women, it was a Halloween fright fest that went horribly wrong. Shortly after they left a "haunted house" in a middle class area of Long Beach, south of Los Angeles, on October 31 last year, the women were attacked by a mob of teenagers. Even by the savage conditions that often prevail on LA's mean streets, it was a vicious assault. One victim's eye was smashed in. Another was knocked out by a skateboard. All were badly beaten.
"Two of the victims have lasting damage," says Tracy Manzer, a reporter with the Long Beach Press-Telegram who spoke to the women, aged 19 to 21, after the attack. The victims believe that, but for the intervention of a passing man, they would have been killed by the mob, estimated by witnesses as between 25 and 35 teenagers. Ten teens were subsequently charged with assault. Closing arguments in their case, which is being tried by a judge in juvenile court, take place this week and a verdict is expected soon.
Long Beach is used to violence. Gangs are endemic. Murder frequent. But the case has had a "huge impact", says Manzer, because the victims are white and their assailants are black. Nine of the defendants, the youngest 12, are girls. Because they chanted "f*** white people" and other racial epithets during the assault all were accused of hate crimes, a charge traditionally seen in white-on-black crimes. "I think the case has the potential to have a much wider impact," says Manzer.
Yet other than the Press Telegram, and, belatedly, the Los Angeles Times, press coverage has been scant, in part due to uncertainties about how to report a black-on-white hate crime. The Times agonised that laws to prosecute hate crimes - defined by Congress in 1992 as "motivated by hatred, bias or prejudice, based on the actual or perceived race, colour, religion, national origin, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation or gender identity of another individual or group of individuals" - might end up "punishing blacks".
This touched on a deep nerve that goes back to US's still unresolved racial baggage from the slavery and segregation eras. When white members of a lacrosse team from North Carolina's Duke University were accused of raping a black stripper at a party last year, the case reaped saturation coverage and touched off a national firestorm. Seinfeld's Michael Richards was castigated after he uttered the "N" word while ranting at hecklers in a LA club.
So the media's comparative silence on the Long Beach case has been deafening. David Mills, a black screenwriter and ex-reporter for the Washington Post, told the Romenesko blog: "You don't have to be a card-carrying Klansman to point out that the LA Times surely would be treating this story differently if three black women had been attacked by 30 white teenagers hurling words like 'f ... black people'."
Did the press back off because they were worried they might seem racist? "It's like walking on eggshells," says Earl Ofari Hutchinson, a black columnist in LA. Yet he believes the media's inability to get a handle on a story that reversed stereotypes was as important as fears of appearing racist. And, as Manzer, points out: no one died.
Nonetheless, the Long Beach assaults reflect a disturbing trend in LA, and perhaps elsewhere in the US. The LA County Human Relations Commission, which collects statistics, says hate crimes have increased. "The intriguing thing is the hate crimes they're talking about are not the old white-on-black, or bashing Jews, gays and Muslims," notes Hutchinson. "The majority of hate crimes in LA County are committed by Latinos and blacks, on each other or on whites."
In one case, members of an LA Latino street gang were convicted of perpetuating what amounted to ethnic cleansing of blacks. In South Central LA, two Latinos shot a 14-year-old schoolgirl, apparently because she was black.
"When we talk about black-on-Latino, or Latino-on-black hate crimes, I think the same rules apply as when we talk about white-on-black crimes," says Hutchinson. "The same fears, the same tensions, the same hostilities." This is especially so in gritty urban areas like Long Beach, where Latinos and Asians are occupying black neighbourhoods.
This is also gang turf. Prosecutors tried, unsuccessfully, to link one defendant with the Baby Insane Crips, after finding references to the notorious black gang on his MySpace account. The Crips are also believed to have intimidated witnesses: one had her car trashed, and the man who intervened in the melee refused to identify suspects.
But, as Manzer notes, almost any defendant might have gang ties under police definitions - family, friends or acquaintances. Gang culture, often glorified, is pervasive.
Perhaps what is most disturbing is that the defendants are depicted as "regular" kids. They do well at school and some are sports stars. None has a criminal record and no gang affiliations have been proven. They might expect to do well. Instead, if prosecutors are correct, they took part in a vicious assault. Indeed, two others have been charged and await trial while police say the investigation is ongoing.
The events in Long Beach echo New York's "wilding" incident in 1989, when black teenagers beat and raped a woman in Central Park, and have lead to agonising about what drives kids to senseless violence, a can of worms given its glorification by popular culture. "Group beatings are extremely common in juvenile crimes," notes Manzer. "Kids get caught up in it. It's like a spectator sport. Then they join in."
Ultimately, the case raises the spectre of race hatred so deep it pervades society, crossing race lines and incubating even its youngest members. "I think the case will redefine how Americans look at hate crimes," says Hutchinson. "Traditionally African-Americans were victims. Now they're not. It's a new twist in America's racial dynamic." America's long racial nightmare is far from over.
New Orleans laments loss of chocolate
On Martin Luther King Day last year, New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin famously said his city would "be chocolate at the end of the day", a remark meant to encourage African Americans to return after Hurricane Katrina. At the time, it drew accusations of racial divisiveness and a barrage of jokes.
T-shirts went on sale in the French Quarter portraying Nagin as Willie Wonka and maps of the city were redrawn with neighbourhoods named Godiva, Hershey and M&Ms.
But a year later, it is no laughing matter. New Orleans, one of the most culturally distinct African-American cities, is struggling to regain its black character.
"We need the chocolate back in the vanilla!" housing activist Endesha Juakali shouted to a crowd last month to protest against the demolition of public housing damaged by Katrina. But there were only about 20 black people listening, just a fraction of the whites who came to support the cause.
New Orleans was 67 per cent African American before Katrina and 28 per cent white. Now, in a city with less than half the previous population, blacks account for 47 per cent and whites 43 per cent.
"It will never be the same in my lifetime. We already know that," said Juakali. "The forces that control the redevelopment are going to string this thing out for at least five years. And people can't wait that long."
Signs of a sluggish recovery are everywhere, 16 months after Katrina slammed the Gulf Coast and flooded 80 per cent of the city. Nowhere is it slower than in predominantly black neighbourhoods.
Poor blacks who did not own their homes have little affordable rental accommodation to choose from, keeping them at bay in cities like Houston. Meanwhile, middle class black evacuees are thriving in new cities like Atlanta and are unlikely to return.
- REUTERS
