Throughout our course in Los Angeles we visited a wide variety of organizations working tirelessly on the ground to make a change in their communities. In Skid Row we toured long-term single room occupancy affordable housing and we visited the short term homeless shelter where cots line the wall as if on an assembly line. We discussed the violence perpetrated against women and men both domestically and in state sponsored institutions such as prison. We heard first hand stories from former gang members and prisoners, both young and old. We spoke in depth with neighborhood advocates exploring alterative ways to invest in their neighborhoods without displacing the residents.
According to the 2000 Census Los Angeles is the most diverse city in the United States. It’s demographic is predominantly Latino (47%) followed by white (30%), African American (11%) and Asian (10%). The population of LA is about 10 million residents, one-third of which are foreign born immigrants. L.A. is a home of transplants trying to find their slice of the American pie. Some have made it big but most are simply trying to survive. LA exists in the extremes of the rich and famous and the severely poor, creating a huge disparity in income, opportunity, political voice, access and race.
Even though we were unable to visit all 3,000 non-profits of L.A. county during our brief visit, among the handful of groups that we had the fortune to visit, there was a distinct and reoccurring theme that emerged. Race. Racism is still an ongoing struggle in L.A. county, and the country for that matter. It isn’t necessarily the blatant, aggressive racism; it is the more subtle, systemic discrimination that is harder to extinguish. Many of the activists we spoke with referred to the history of marginalization, ill conceived policies, and the growing disparities between whites and people of color. There was a palpable distaste and frustration with the majority white man designed social status quo.
Full disclosure here, I am white. Several of us in the group were. Whenever I heard these negative statements made toward the generalized white population I made the conscious choice not to be offended or embittered. As a privileged white person in America these grievances deserve to be heard without a defensive stance or a rational white perspective explanation. Besides, for the most part, although not always, I agreed with their criticism. What impressed me the most is that they were open and willing to invite me into their communities, into their safe spaces, and share their stories with me. Me, a gringa, a person who in all appearances looks exactly like the enemy.
With the wealth of new knowledge and empathy acquired from our experience in LA, I am left with the lingering question, what can I do as a gringa, as a living contribution to the problem, to support the oppressed minorities of L.A., and elsewhere, in America? As an educator I am committed to working with youth and fighting for equal access and opportunity. Yet I also recognize that a student of color will always relate better to a mentor from the same neighborhood who has experienced the same struggles and discrimination. And that is how is should be. I don’t ever want to be that white woman coming into a community telling them how to run things.
What I do want to be is an an ally. An advocate. A friend. And a sounding board. I want to continuing sharing the stories they entrusted to me within my own community. I can do this in a respectful manner that facilitates ongoing dialogue and progress. But perhaps one of the most important things I learned on this trip is that, as a white person, I need to sit back, shut up, and truly listen.
