Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, July 16, 1995 TAG: 9507150012
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BETH MACY STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: FINCASTLE LENGTH: Long
Think of 35 teen-agers experiencing a collection of powerful moments, one after the other, and leaving the Camp Bethel grounds pumped up to change things - their families, their friends, their schools and, finally, the world.
``On the first day I didn't wanna communicate with nobody,'' says Gary ``Squeeze'' Smith, a William Fleming High School junior. ``When I got off the bus, I thought they were gonna tackle me, they were so friendly.''
And on the last day of camp Anytown?
``I can't wait to get back home. I mean, I have work to do.''
The kid in the cafeteria no one wants to talk to; Squeeze wants to seek him out now.
The racial jokes he used to ignore or laugh off; he's got a plan of attack for those.
What's the difference between a Muslim and a Jew? What do Baptists and atheists have in common?
They're not jokes, they're serious questions. Squeeze knows the answers, too.
A national leadership camp for rising juniors and seniors sponsored by the National Conference of Christians and Jews, camp Anytown made its Virginia premiere last week in Botetourt County, pulling together teen-agers from the Roanoke, Botetourt and Franklin County areas.
It's a weeklong workshop on tolerance, a place where you hear James Taylor on the boom box followed by Arrested Development - and the same people keep on dancing.
A place where teen-agers talk seriously about affirmative action and female empowerment, and no one laughs. Where they get to know each other so well that they share their stories about date rape or sexual harassment.
``It's always the [student] leaders because the point is that they go back to their schools and make an impact,'' says Marty Woodward, Anytown Roanoke Valley's co-director.
Shana Harris, a Franklin County High School senior, is helping organize a multicultural student group at her school. She lives in a predominantly white middle-class neighborhood; she is black.
``One time someone called the police on us because they'd heard rap music coming from a mile down the road,'' she recalls. ``And it was the Jesus Festival! I mean, we don't even listen to rap music.''
Sharing stories, building lifelong friendships with people who are different from you - they're crucial to Anytown's success, just as they're crucial to bridging the gaps among cultures.
``In a way it's easier to talk to a bunch of strangers who don't have any opinion of you,'' Shana says. ``You think certain people are one way, and then you learn they're just like everyone else.''
Sarah Shivers, a Roanoke Catholic junior, says she'd never been around such a diverse group of people. ``And here it's all totally accepted. I mean, one person last night said they identified with being gay, and there were no dirty looks, nothing.''
|n n| It wasn't the pre-Civil Rights South, it was last week at Camp Bethel. But there they were - bathrooms with ``COLORED FEMALE ONLY'' signs, breakfast tables segregated according to religious affiliation, and strict orders not to talk to or look at anyone wearing a different-colored armband.
Penee Clayborne figured it was an exercise, but she wasn't sure. She kept looking at her adult advisers for guidance, but they stuck to the segregation rules.
She had a hard time accepting the declaration that black campers had to clear off the breakfast dishes. But she said nothing.
She started to cry after breakfast when they gave the order that no American Indians were allowed to sit on chairs. ``You just felt it in your heart for these people, but no one spoke up. People cried when they took away their chairs,'' recalls Clayborne, a Franklin County High School senior, who is both African-American and American Indian.
Finally, Penee stood up and said, ``I can not do it.''
Others soon followed, removing their arm bands and tying them together into one unifying rope.
``Everything we'd learned that had happened in Civil Rights, I mean, as a young person myself I felt like this happened way back then, and before I really couldn't imagine it,'' Penee said.
``A white female said to me afterwards, `I'm so sorry for what we did to you.' And we were like, `You didn't do it.' ''
Sometimes it takes just one person to stand up against injustice. Penee realizes now that was the whole point of the exercise.
``We got in a big circle later and talked about it. I wanted to feel proud, but then I was ashamed it took me so long to say something.''
The next time, she hopes, it won't.
|n n| Penee can admit it now. Before camp Anytown, she was prejudiced.
She'd never admitted it out loud. Never voiced the discomfort she felt around Asians. Never made jokes about how all white people lack rhythm - not so they could hear, anyway.
Now she counts four Asians among her best friends.
And here's what she did on her fourth night at camp Anytown. She taught white people how to do the Butterfly dance - a leg-wobbling move that requires more than a semblance of rhythm.
And they taught her? A country line dance.
``It was kinda hard. I mean, I was surprised!'' she says. And then she yawns, rubbing her eyes.
Ask her why she's so tired, and you get tales of typical summer camp tricks: the fake snake curled up outside the cabin door, the shaving cream escapades, the make-up explosion on the bathroom floor, enough all-night toilet paper pranks to decorate a homecoming float.
But underneath the sleep-deprivation and silliness, you also get depth.
``Everybody is just trying so hard to learn,'' she says. ``We were up all night teaching each other dances, and it's so cute to watch everybody trying so hard. You just want to sit back and watch.''
|n n| The teen-agers are on the floor for their daily faith and diversity workshop. Some listen while painting each other's nails. Others lie back, leaning their heads on the limb of the person next to them.
Each religious group gives a short presentation of its church's beliefs. When it's time for the Baptists to talk, they go over the basics, then open up the floor for questions.
A girl who identifies herself as an atheist/agnostic asks, ``Do you condemn people who are agnostic?''
``Yes, as far as the concept goes, but not the person,'' says Candace Beamer, a William Fleming senior.
``But what if you have good will but don't believe in God?'' the girl presses. ``Are you still condemned to hell?''
``We believe if you don't accept God as your savior, then you are condemned to hell,'' Beamer explains.
``But what if you don't believe in hell?''
``Then we would pray for you,'' another Baptist adds.
There is an awkward silence, then the Baptists sit down quietly, without incident.
|n n| The campers are spread across the grounds in groups of six. It's the last full day of activities, and they are asked the most important question of all: How can you make a difference promoting positive multi-ethnic connections at home?
Gary ``Squeeze'' Smith offers: ``I'll tell 'em about the workshops and how I felt. I've got a whole lot of friends I can't wait to get home on Saturday to talk to, to change them.''
``If things get tough, you always have your Anytown support group,'' says Eric Phelps, a Korean-born Salemite and a peer counselor.
``Or you could, if you have a really good friend you can trust, introduce that friend to a person of a different religion or race,'' offers another camper.
Another girl is afraid to tell her parents about Anytown. ``How am I gonna tell them, `I want you to change,' when they've been stuck on their beliefs for this long?''
``Does anyone not have a family like that?'' asks Patricia, an adult adviser.
``It's important to keep yourself true,'' Phelps says. ``Sometimes it's remaining passive, and showing by example.
``Youth are the most impressionable. Practice what you learned in front of them, and they'll notice.'' If someone tells a racial joke, don't laugh, he adds. Or tell them if offends you.
``Yeah, but I got in a fight with my dad before I left - about racial discrimination,'' adds another girl, who is white. ``It's gonna be hard.''
Squeeze has a suggestion. It's a subject he's been thinking about all week.
``If I told my friends, `Y'all, that offends me,' they'd look at me like, `Are you crazy?!' But if I stay serious, they'll know I'm for real. Then maybe the next time they'll lighten up on it.''
``Anytown group hug!'' one person announces. And with that, the campers walk to the nearby creek, wade in and lock arms.
They are asked to recount their biggest fears about coming to Anytown.
``That it would be a bunch of nerds....''
``That it wouldn't be any fun.... ''
``That I might find out I was a racist....''
``That no one would like me.''
``We LOVE you!'' they shout.
The water is cold, very cold, but they stand there, arms locked, oblivious to the numbness creeping over their feet.
They are as sincere as they can be. They are out to change the world.
The next camp Anytown will be held July 7-13, 1996, at Camp Bethel. For information or applications, contact area high school guidance counselors. Business and school sponsorships are available.
by CNB