Groups focus on Utah religious divide

0 Comments | Deseret News (Salt Lake City), Mar 27, 2004 | by Carrie A. Moore Deseret Morning News

When it comes to the divisions that exist between east and west in Salt Lake City, where do perception and reality meet? And how does stereotyping change the way reality plays out in classrooms, neighborhoods and churches?

The questions were fodder for the most recent discussion this week by members of Chamade, a creation of the Utah Psychological Association. Members include psychologists and other professionals, and they gather monthly to discuss various facets of the religious divide in Utah. Their discussions began last fall and have become more free-flowing because members have agreed not to identify each other with their comments outside the group.

Irene Fisher is director of University Neighborhood Partnership and former director of the Bennion Center at the University of Utah. She has spent nearly three years working on a way to bridge the gap between east and west from about 2100 South to North Salt Lake, a gap that is reinforced by physical barriers such as I-15 and the railroad tracks. She told participants on Wednesday that in spite of her work for the University of Utah in bridge-building, she is leery of talking about divisions for fear of reinforcing some facets of the difference. "I know so much of it is perception that I hate to stress it."

Yet there is no getting around the fact that cultural, economic, geographic and religious differences exist, she acknowledged.

In walking west-side neighborhoods and talking to residents, Fisher said she found at least two key commonalities: they agreed their diversity is a strength despite the challenges it brings and that their lifestyles and values are not focused around material possessions. "They tell me they're not always trying to get more money than the people next door, that they are not trying to keep up with the Joneses." Some believe that as a result, neighbors are more willing to share what they do have.

Fisher said she doesn't have a way to gauge the accuracy of that characterization, but if it's true, "that's something our culture needs a lot more of."

As the discussion progressed, economics came to the fore as an underlying force that seems to shape many of the differences between east and west, not only in lifestyle, but in education, socialization and even religion.

One woman, an active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and a psychologist in private practice, said she and her husband bought a home on the west side early in their marriage but moved to the east side when their children approached school age.

"We wanted to move into a neighborhood where our children would see doctors, lawyers and professionals around them, so they could figure out that those people are just like everybody else" and they could aspire to the same kinds of educational and financial goals. She said she's not sure they would do so had they stayed on the west side.

The move was made, "knowing in some ways we denied our children some experience with diversity, but helping them in other ways." She recalled a friend's family who still remains in her old west-side neighborhood, noting they have "six boys, and only two finished college."

"That won't be the case for us."

Such notions are reinforced socially, despite integrated schools like West High School, according to a local Chicano who heads an interfaith organization. He noted the propensity for white, east- side students to segregate themselves inside the school from Polynesian or Latino groups that live on the west side.

One psychologist remembers attending a football game between East and West high schools when her children were students, noting that West was prevailing on the field in part because it had several large Tongan players who outgunned their rivals. Whenever West would score a touchdown, the East High cheerleaders would chant, "That's all right, that's OK, you'll all work for us someday." The comment drew groans from participants.

Such attitudes incorporate ethnic elements as well as economic ones, Fisher said, noting she has long believed that "people tend to be more fearful of anything they don't understand," including cultural differences. As she works with community councils on the west side, she notes that the leadership is "99 percent white and 99 percent over 65," yet the neighborhoods are much more diverse than the representation.

But even age is not necessarily a predictor of who will espouse what type of attitude or fear. Fisher noted a conversation she had with Mary Hall, an 87-year-old resident who grew up near the Fairpark and still lives there. She has watched her neighborhood change from being heavily white and LDS to being much more diverse ethnically and religiously. When Fisher asked how the University of Utah could help bridge the gaps in her neighborhood, Hall told her they could teach a Spanish class "because I want to be a good neighbor."

Yet other white residents she talks to have told her that Latinos in the area "need to learn to speak English."

"I don't know the difference between Mary Hall and those with other viewpoints. It's only speculation. That's why I want to talk about what isn't divisive, because so much of this is perception, while some of it is real."