The Chicago Sun-Times has long been known for its headlines.
They’re often clever, catchy and bold. But the one I read for a story published in December grabbed my attention for other reasons.
“Opioids have been killing the same generation of Black men in Chicago for decades,” it read.
I was deeply intrigued, so I read on.
“Black men born 1951-1970 always have had the greatest risk of dying of overdoses, even in their 20s, 30s and 40s,” the story continued.
Immediately, I stopped reading. I was frozen.
“Wait. Like what?” I thought to myself. “That’s my generation.”
Born in October 1969, I was astonished to realize that I’m a part of that group — and to learn that so many of us have been dying of drug overdoses.
I began racking my brain for memories of rampant drug use or drug-related deaths among my peers. Marijuana had always been the drug of choice, but I had no recollection of the heroin and fentanyl usage described in the story.
And while I’ve attended a number of funerals and lost far too many members of my generation prematurely, usually the reasons for those deaths have been heart-related ailments, not opioids.
But after an analysis of millions of death records nationwide, the stunning discovery was reported by the Sun-Times and nearly a dozen other news organizations across the country. They partnered to examine the disproportionate impact of drug abuse on Black men born during that 20-year span and to show how those individuals were being impacted in their coverage areas.
My thoughts began to zoom out in search of answers to the question: why has this particular generation of Black men been so affected by drug overdoses?
Little has been done to address the addiction issues of this particular group, largely because government and private agencies hadn’t recognized the need, the Sun-Times story pointed out.
But the story also mentions that this generation of Black men was born during the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s, encompassing the height of the Civil Rights Movement and an intense period of racial unrest in America.
A generation comes of age while fighting social ills
My thoughts turned to all of the things that were happening around this generation of Black men in the decades that followed. The gains of the Civil Rights Movement were met with great resistance as we came of age, and even started our own families, in the 1980s and 1990s.
We endured white flight from the neighborhoods our parents integrated, and de-industrialization that closed or relocated the plants and factories that employed our parents. The disinvestment rocked the economy in our neighborhoods, and as the jobs went away, many young Black men turned to the underground economy to make ends meet. Black communities were a prime target for the illegal drug trade — the perfect storm of a young labor pool in desperate need of economic opportunity and neighborhoods traumatized by years of oppression and poverty.
The epidemic of crack cocaine and gang violence that resulted was met with a racially-disparate war on drugs and mass incarceration. This generation of Black men were then serving prison sentences for using or dealing crack or heroin, and those sentences stretched into the 2000s. Many of them were stuck in a perpetual cycle of addiction or making bad choices to earn a living, going back to prison and then returning home to face the same sickness and limited opportunities — only this time, with a longer rap sheet and an outlook that grew darker with each conviction.
As the Sun-Times story notes, today’s higher rates of opioid overdoses among this generation of Black men — now in their 50s, 60s and 70s — illustrates the impact of racism and segregation.
The story closed with insightful comments from a Chicago-area woman who lost her 70-year-old father last year to an opioid overdose. She noted that most folks associate the opioid crisis with younger white people instead of people like her father — older Black men who are marginalized and often blamed for their addiction.
Whether meth labs in rural communities or prescription drugs in suburban enclaves, drug addiction among white Americans has more often been met with responsible care, compassion and understanding than it has for Black Americans struggling with addiction to crack or heroin.
In spite of our proclamations of being colorblind, it seems the only thing that some of us fail to see is the depth of suffering endured by Black people, and other people of color.
We judge them for their mistakes, but we often fail to see society’s hand in the poor choices they sometimes make.
Alden Loury is data projects editor for WBEZ and writes a column for the Sun-Times.
Send letters to letters@suntimes.com
Get Opinions content delivered to your inbox. Sign up for our weekly newsletter here.