Life’s Simple Pleasures Robbed by City’s Violence

As a black resident of South-Central Los Angeles, I am angry.

I’d like to tell those in the Los Angeles Police Department, the Los Angeles City Council, state representatives and those of you who live “across town” what my life style is like in South-Central Los Angeles.

I actually live in the Adams-La Brea area, which is northwest of what some people would consider South-Central Los Angeles; I affectionately call it “Lower Wilshire.” But our problems are just as acute as those in the heart of South-Central. There is the gnawing fear of falling prey to a violent crime such as murder. I secretly fear that my children might be deprived of their mother or father or fall victim themselves. My husband and I don’t let our children play outside. Our daughter is driven to and from school every day, even though the school is only five minutes away, because we fear for her safety.

All homes here, with few exceptions, have security doors and bars. Some residents have engaged a security service to further ensure their safety and that of their property.

In recent years, some residents have stopped sitting on the porches on hot summer evenings. Jogging in the morning and even walking to the neighborhood store is out of the question. Coming home in the evening, I no longer walk from the bus stop, but have my family meet me there because it is too dangerous to walk home. We never leave home without first checking to see that no one is watching the house.

My life in the last 10 or so years has changed dramatically--simple things lost, such as leaving the front door open on a hot day or evening.

Assessing the changes of my life style over the last 10 years, I realize how many things that I did then, things that I took for granted, that I no longer do. More than nine years ago, when my daughter was born, I thought nothing of putting her in the stroller and going to the store or library or even just for a walk. During the summer I would put her in her playpen on the front porch and we would sit for hours.

Today I don’t even give a first thought of doing any of this. My daughter’s bike is kept at her grandmother’s house because she lives in a neighborhood in Inglewood where it’s safer for bike-riding.

When making a decision about where to send her to a school, public school had to be out of the question. I couldn’t in good conscience send her to a public school after I’d heard repeated reports of school violence and drugs even at the elementary level. The school she would have attended, the one I attended 22 years go, is in an area plagued by gang activity, including shootings.

My daughter has asked me why she can’t go to a “regular” public school. She also asks why she can’t walk home from the parochial school she does attend. I just have to tell her that I don’t believe it’s safe. I tell her that she can attend public school when we can move out of the city. She resents the restriction on her freedom. I resent it, too. I am furious that she is missing out on some very basic childhood experiences-- bike-riding on her block, attending public school, walking home.

For years perhaps we thought we were immune in our nice little neighborhood, before all of the homes had security bars on the windows. But any illusions I had were shattered by a rash of burglaries in our area and the senseless murder four years ago of a 15-year-old girl who lived nearby. She was gunned down while running to catch a bus to school. Now, we look with suspicion at any strangers who walk through the neighborhood.

Ten years ago, I never thought about falling victim to violent crime. Today my thoughts turn daily to whether I, my husband, daughter or baby will be assaulted, maimed or killed. Will we be hit by a stray or intentional bullet in traffic, on the street, in the supermarket or even while sitting in our living room?

Will we, like so many others, become innocent victims? I believe we are already innocent victims of an environment of crime. More important, we are all victims of our failure to confront and correct crime.