I arrived in Los Angeles a few days early to visit one of my best friends who lives out in Chatsworth. This neighborhood of the L.A. valley feels light years different from the gritty downtown. In fact, it feels light years different from most places in America. It has an aura of a place that time forgot. A snapshot of the wild west where red rock boulders paint the horizon and dusty cowboy saloons call you neighbor. Rattlesnakes slither across sandy foot trails and coyotes guide you home. It is quiet and calm and so, so still. A much different pace from the city lights and congested streets of our hotel in downtown. We all walked together to dinner tonight and soaked in the multi-sensory scene. Eager fans piled into the Staples Center for a hockey game. Singles dressed in their finest sex appeal hurried off to the bars and clubs. Tourists (such as ourselves) gathered in giggling groups to take pictures of the ensuing Saturday night. The evening is warm and full of energy. Coming from Monterey, I am grateful for the lack of layers I have to wear.
Tomorrow marks the first day of our L.A. fieldwork and I am both excited and slightly nervous. I am excited to be out there talking to real people making a real difference in our society. On the other hand, I am nervous to face these social struggles head on. In general, my default mechanism in cities is to withdraw and not engage with strangers. I mind my own business and keep my focus on my task at hand. Headphones are an often-used crutch to maintain this separation. This self-imposed wall has been especially true in relation to homeless people. I do not avoid them because I somehow think they are less human or less worthy of human interaction. Frankly, I am afraid. Not engaging with them has been a survival technique. I am afraid they will ask me for money, I am afraid they will say something crazy or threatening, and I am afraid they will keep talking to me when I don’t feel like being social. In order to avoid these feelings of discomfort I don’t make eye contact, I avoid their calls, and I continue walking with a slightly accelerated pace.
I recognize my biases against homeless people and I am not proud of my conflicted feelings. Entering places like Skid Row and interacting with homeless citizens and homeless support organizations in L.A. will be a practice in stepping outside of my comfort zone. I suspect it will be both challenging and enlightening. But this is why I am here. I am here to learn, to reflect, to broaden my perspective, and to gather the stories as respectfully and honestly as I can along the way. Sitting on the sidelines watching it all pass me by is not an option. I am here to tell a living, breathing story and I invite you all to join me in the journey ahead – the good, the bad, and the ugly.
