SEX, DRUGS AND STEREOTYPES

Drug Commission Poster May Do More Harm Than Good

Several weeks ago, the Asheville-Buncombe Drug Commission barraged my
neighborhood with a series of peculiar posters.

Full color, they clung to every other tree and pole leading up Hanover
Street and into the concrete horizon of the Pisgah View Apartments.

The commission apparently intended the trail of posters as a
public-service announcement for female pedestrians in the area, which
is to say primarily black and/or underprivileged women.

And the posters are certainly eye-catching, with a blaring red
background and a picture of a conventionally attractive woman in a
tight, white minidress positioned at its center.

A man in a sporty car with a European plate leans over the passenger
seat, poised to make his proposition. Wearing spiky black heels, the
woman bends toward the car, back arched like a cat. Her hair hangs
loose, covering her face. In letters that perfectly match the woman's
dress, the posters proclaim, "It's Scary What You Will End Up Selling
For Your Hard Drugs." And beneath the photograph: "Stop. Find a better
way." And in even smaller letters: "Asheville cares about the harm of
hard drugs.

We're fighting back, together."

Upon viewing the posters, perhaps one sex worker, one drug-addicted
individual, will kick off her 4-inch stilettos and run to the Drug
Commission's doors.

But wait: There are no doors to open. The poster gives no physical
address, nor phone number, for the group of folks who meet for one
hour once a month to discuss how to reduce crime in city
neighborhoods. Beyond the commission's cliched messages, why did the
group choose such a glamorized depiction of prostitution, which
humiliates rather than educates their target audience - and, in the
process, has alienated nearly every woman in the neighborhood. There
are all too few resources for women and girls at risk. A commission
formed to reduce hard-drug use should at least use its poster campaign
to provide a list of what resources there are (preferably with
toll-free numbers), rather than assaulting us with offensive propaganda.

We have to assume that the commission members are well-meaning folks
who ultimately care about the future of Asheville's underprivileged
residents. But the group's approach to "fighting back" ignores the
true problems that lead people into drug abuse or sex work. The
poster's message lumps together these often-separate issues.

And it's a disgraceful way to treat people who may well be survivors
of childhood abuse, poverty, institutional racism and sexism, and/or a
lack of access to jobs that pay a living wage. According to the Our
Voice Web site, at least 75 percent of people who turn to prostitution
were sexually and physically abused as children.

Clearly, there are deeper issues here. Yet the Drug Commission's
symptomatic tactics fall short of addressing the crises that steer
women and men down the path of sex work and/or drug addiction.

Of course people who live in impoverished communities historically and
strategically cut off from the rest of the city will survive by
whatever means possible.

But is anyone offering a better option than a glossy, 11-by-17
poster?

A few years ago, I tutored a group of 11- to 12-year-old kids in an
after-school program.

Many of them lived in public housing, and I watched them wrestle not
only with hormones and puberty, but with their ultimate struggle to
define themselves beyond the limited identity imposed upon them by our
culture's social hierarchy.

Now, I imagine one of those girls waiting at the school-bus stop and
the forced confrontation with the Drug Commission's mixed and
irresponsible message.

Will the girl become aware of her own vulnerability to some grown
man's propositions? Does she wonder whether, standing alone at the
corner, she appears to be for sale? Does the Drug Commission wish to
assume responsibility for steering her toward adulthood? And how do I
explain the poster's meaning to my own 9-year-old daughter? If the
Drug Commission wants to experiment with ways to enhance the quality
of life for the Pisgah View neighborhood, perhaps they would consider
a different strategy.

And if they wish to don the heroic cape, put the bad guys behind bars,
and rescue the ladies in distress, we can open the can of applause and
pat them each on the back.

But pathological social issues will not be addressed by a lady in a
sexy white dress or a man in a shiny car. And so I ask the
Asheville-Buncombe Drug Commission whether "fighting back" is meant to
shame the drug addict and the sex worker?

To condemn them without offering a single positive resource? The
posters at the top of Hanover have since disappeared (coincidentally,
there are lots of properties for sale on this portion of the street).
But they're still visible from the foot of the Pisgah View Apartments
onward. Hanging these offensive posters in poor black communities is
distressing to young and old alike.

Please think again: How do we "stop"? And what is the "better
way"?