This month has opened my eyes in so many ways. Before I started the class, I had a limited idea of what the Hilltop was. In my mind, it was a dirty, dark place - almost like Gotham City! - that was dangerous and scary. In a phrase, I pictured a dark alley on top of a hill. In a conversation I recently had with some friends, I came to realize how little I knew about the Hilltop, Tacoma and the people in the area before this month. While discussing the Tunnel of Oppression (an event on campus), I started talking about the cultural makeup of the people at the agencies, the needs of the agencies, and the realities of the Hilltop in itself. My friends were shocked. They had no idea all of this was happening just down the street. Noticing their shock, I realized that was too my reaction when I learned these things.
Further discussion with my friends, and I noticed what was shocking to them wasn’t even scratching the surface of reality. We were talking about kids, particularly kids on the East Side. We were talking about students on free and reduced lunches, and how nearly 100% of students at a particular junior high school were dependent on these lunches. We discussed how there are organizations in the community to provide these students with food for the weekends. Somehow, in a short moment of silence, my mind wandered to their lives at home. You see, we were talking numbers, percentages, statistics that without a unit meant nothing. I started thinking about children. Their faces, I could see clearly in my mind. Then I started thinking about their lives. Some had no father, some no mother, others had a mother and a father but the children had never known their parents sober or clean. I thought about their siblings. Some of their siblings were involved in gangs or high on drugs, others were younger than them and they were the primary caregivers. Some of the younger ones didn’t go to school yet, and therefore were not eligible for free and reduced lunches. I thought about bruised and battered mothers, I thought about drunk and angry fathers.
These are the lives of a large majority of children in Pierce County. Children. Thinking back on our tour through the East Side, I remember what I learned about these children's lives. I learned that kids join gangs and that gangs take in kids. They join gangs because the life of a gang member is better than the life they have in their homes. If you think about it, most of us consider gangs to be the worst of the worst, but for these kids, their home lives are worse than their gang lives. Let me put it a different way: Kids join gangs (gangs, like the Bloods, Crips, Vice Lords, etc.) because they feel safer than with their own family. Do you understand what I'm saying? No? The World English Dictionary defines a gang as a group of people who associate together or act as an organized body especially for criminal or illegal purposes. Wikipedia tells us that one of the main reasons gangs are formed is because of "social disorganization, and the disintegration of societal institutions like family and school." Now we see where it all starts: at home and school. So, if we keep repeating that it takes a community to raise a child, then what is our community doing? How did we allow the lives of children get this bad? What do we need to do to make our schools and our families more functional so our kids don't feel that they must form a gang just to find some stability?
You know, being in this class I've thought a lot about privilege. We've talked about white privilege, the privileges we have as college students, and what we have as primarily middle-class people. I start to wonder why we have this "caste system" that sets us apart from them. I can't help but begin to ask why. Why is it that we feel that those who don't have what we have are inferior? Why do we feel that all we have to do is give a couple bucks here and there, or drop some non-perishables in a box to wash our hands of our duties as a member of a community? Why is it so hard to respect a man who is bearded and in someone else's clothes but not a man in a suit who is freshly shaven? Why do we think there's nothing we can do about it?
These things I shared with my friends. They were inspired. They too understood how the numbers didn’t mean much. They began to see a part of the lives of Pierce County youth. Together, we saw faces behind statistics. Each face had a story, and I began to see that not only do the childrens’ faces have stories, but the adults’ do too. Every man and woman that walks through the Food Connection line, accepts a tray at the Hospitality Kitchen or an article of clothing at the Nativity House, and every student at the Tacoma Community House has a story. Each started out as babies, they progressed to toddlers and adolescents, and they have now reached adulthood. Their journey from here to there was a significant trek, and that is what makes them more than a statistic.
Now, when I look someone in the eyes, I will not see just another person. Taking this lesson to heart, I can’t not see a person with a story, a person with a journey and a future. All of a sudden, it’s impossible to see a number without seeing a face. Numbers like 1.35 million or 760 thousand mean little to me without units. However, when I read that in 2007 it was estimated that 1.35 million children experienced homelessness, and that the US Dep't of Justice estimates there are 760 thousand gang members in this country, I can’t help but think of 1.35 million faces and 760 thousand stories. It’s more than a number, it’s a person.
"You cannot change the world, but you can change the world for one." (Author Unknown)
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