STREET LEVEL : Flowers Do Grow in the Ghetto
Being from South-Central, I can remember the times when no one wanted to claim my ‘hood. Now it’s the place to be. I have vivid memories of elaborate Kwanzaa festivals in Leimert Park, and Crenshaw was the nucleus of all of the black activities.
On Sunday nights, Crenshaw was converted into a strip for cars and a social pit for young brothers and sisters. As I would watch the overly adorned cars so low that they scraped the pavement, I remember thinking that there was no place like L.A. Of course there are the bad memories too, like the walls of buildings being covered with spray paint and liquor stores on every corner where I often stopped to buy Now and Laters. With maturity I grew to accept (with the reservation of changing) my desecrated walls and overabundant swap meets. I learned to appreciate the culture of Los Angeles. I learned that “the ghetto” was just a frame of mind. I began to see a means to change all of the things that didn’t compliment my neighborhood.
Everybody wants to “make it” and move out of the black community. Like on the old sitcom “Good Times,” they spent every episode trying to get out of the ghetto, but not once did I see them do anything to improve or enrich the community.
We, as a people, continue to believe the myth that a neighborhood with little or no people of color is a better neighborhood. If people of color with finances and skills move out, to whom do we look to build our communities?
If we don’t like where we are, then how come we are the first ones to throw our hands in the air at a party and yell out “Brooklyn’s in da house?”
This shows that we have a little bit of pride. Can we take this and produce a positive outlook on our neighborhoods? If we don’t like what we see, then change it.
Organize community improvement groups and volunteer at neighborhood programs and projects. If you don’t want to take on that, then start changing the attitudes of those around you who feel they live in trash by picking up some. The mental attitude about where you live can reflect in how you feel about yourself and your peers.
One of the greatest feelings I had ever had was when I helped clean up the debris after the April-May riots in L.A. I felt such a bond with the streets and with my ‘hood. Although many neighborhoods had been reduced to ashes, I loved every broken bottle and gutted storefront. I began to feel as if my own back yard had been demolished. I not only thought about how much history had been destroyed but how much had been created.
For the first time in my life, I saw a majority of people cleaning the streets, taking pride and care in the neighborhood. It’s too bad it took such an extreme to start a change, but always remember: Flowers can grow in the ghettos.
