...wife and kid in the living room, which is just behind the entrance of the house...
...gate left open...
...knocking...
We live in a time where on any given newscast, we are inundated with news items that double as cautionary tales. News of random robberies, assaults...it's a scary, negative world, and it seems so random. Basically, if you watch the local news, you'll be inclined to never, ever trust anyone.
On top of that, my neighborhood has a history, one that from any Google search of my street, would deem it a mostly BAD history. Without giving away too much detail, there is actually a Hispanic gang named after my street.
But I don't know what it is about me.
Maybe Catholic guilt. Maybe Anthropologist, 'let's-see-where-this-goes' mentality.
I crack open the door, but not our steel screen door so that there remains a barrier between me and this unknown individual. I can kind of see him, but he can't see me. He's shortish, mid-50s black man.
I ask him what's going on.
He says that he used to live in the very house that I live in today. Says his name is 'Bobby.' He says that the neighbors know him.
I think to myself, "well how come they don't help him out?"
He says that he was just in the neighborhood and got into some kind of fight.
He tells me that I have to help him.
There's a desperation in his voice that I would avoid on Metro trains. But him being here, in my house, on my family's property, means that I can't just ignore him.
He asks if I could drive him to his place in South Los Angeles.
By this point, I'm blown away. I'm glad he doesn't solicit money. I don't really want to turn him away, but I still don't know who the fuck he is or what he's doing here. However, if all he wants is a ride, I instantly get an idea.
"Hey man, what if I call you an Uber?"
The idea is my way of helping with something without spending money or necessarily directly dealing with him.
He keeps going on about how he just wants to go to his home in South LA and how he is known in this neighborhood.
He never really answers the question, but tacitly he seems to approve as I explain that it's like a Taxi. I pull up my phone and order it up from my app. I order it, but I also want to warn the Uber driver by calling her; the driver never picks up the phone. 11 Minutes.
I tell him it is ordered, and that they're coming in 10 minutes.
I take a closer look and see that he's bleeding just above the mouth. I just try to continue conversation about what the neighborhood was like, trying in earnest to verify his claim to the neighborhood.
He said that he grew up in my house during the 1980s. He said it was where he grew up. Kept saying that he knew people around, but conveniently were nowhere to be found on this chance school night.
When I see the Uber is getting close, I finally open the screen door so I could go outside and meet the man.
I tell him that the Uber is there, and he's still talking about going to South LA. He's talking the whole time.
A middle-agish "alternative" looking white lady in a black sedan pulls up in front of my neighbor's house, and I spot her. She has another passenger seated in the front seat, also another woman.
I immediately claim responsibility and say I ordered the Uber and ask if its OK.
She nods, and says, "It's fine."
Bobby hops into the backseat and I thank her with the profusion of a million suns.
But now, I just hope I don't see a local news story about an Uber driver something something by her passenger...
A Few Wednesdays Later
A white station wagon is parked right in front of my drive way where I normally would park after a day of work.
It is about 2 in the afternoon.
I usually get that parking space, and it is sometimes a big deal when someone takes it.
Today, it is taken.
By Bobby.
He is talking to a neighbor that I don't talk to and greets me as soon as he sees me.
Says that he was here to repay me for calling that Uber.
He gives me $20, and says that we should barbecue some time.
Showing posts with label Living in Compton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Living in Compton. Show all posts
The Grocery Outlet in Compton: Its OK...So Far...
If Trader Joe's and Food4Less had a baby, it would be called Grocery Outlet.
The Grocery Outlet is what has officially replaced the Fresh N'Easy.
So far, not so bad, though I'm getting a lot more critical and noticing things with each visit.
In the few weeks its been open, I've already been there five separate times.
Far as I can tell, it seems like their strategy was to rope people in with noticeable, big, "organic" brands, and then eventually as people come in, push the cheaper, unknown brands. For example, when we first went there, about 2 or 3 weeks ago, during Easter break, I noticed the coffee creamer they had: Dunkin' Donuts!!!! We jumped on it. A week later when I returned, it was replaced by a brand called "International."
I'd a given it a 5 after the 1st trip.
After 5 trips, if I were to give it a rating on a scale of 1 through 5, with 5 being the highest recommended number, I would give it a 3.5. Definitely worth trying but keep a critical eye on it.
Good:
The Grocery Outlet is what has officially replaced the Fresh N'Easy.
So far, not so bad, though I'm getting a lot more critical and noticing things with each visit.
In the few weeks its been open, I've already been there five separate times.
Far as I can tell, it seems like their strategy was to rope people in with noticeable, big, "organic" brands, and then eventually as people come in, push the cheaper, unknown brands. For example, when we first went there, about 2 or 3 weeks ago, during Easter break, I noticed the coffee creamer they had: Dunkin' Donuts!!!! We jumped on it. A week later when I returned, it was replaced by a brand called "International."
I'd a given it a 5 after the 1st trip.
After 5 trips, if I were to give it a rating on a scale of 1 through 5, with 5 being the highest recommended number, I would give it a 3.5. Definitely worth trying but keep a critical eye on it.
Good:
- A Family parking space, which will probably get controversial
- A really ergonomic cart, complete with a coffee holder
- Four packets of strawberries for $5
- Some recognizable organic brands; Kashi, Toms, Clif bars
- Kind of low on the Gardein meatless products --- all they have are the fishless filets which are not bad but my wife isn't a fan of it
- Little physical space, meaning little choice, which seems to get worse every time. Yesterday I went to get Silk soy milk. All they had was cashew milk from Silk, which isn't really one of the "mainstream" milks from silk.
- Volatile selection of items. As mentioned, the soy milk. I also noticed the rapid decline in their non-dairy ice cream products. There was So Delicious at first, but it descended onto more of the mainstream, regular ass dairy products.
Anatomy of a Cold War with My Right-Hand Neighbor, Bernardo, in Compton
Lately, I haven't felt that connected with my neighbors. In fact, towards one of them, I harbor animosity.
What for?
Why would I be harboring animosity towards another fellow neighbor here in Compton?
Is it because of their vandalism?
Is it because I suspect that they're stealing?
Is it because of the loud music?
Is it because of the people that suspiciously hang around and bring trouble?
No, it's none of that.
It's because...
...of...
parking.
I know, my rational mind says it's a really stupid thing to get mad about considering that the street has probably seen much more serious problems and that is probably a lurking problem for everyone, but, it's been enough of an issue that our neighbors do various little things to hold onto their parking spots.
I think the previous owner of our house had even hinted at problems with parking and the right-hand neighbor. She hinted that "some people just need to be more educated..."
Whatever that meant.
Our street is really small. There are only 16 single-family houses on our block with only one side of the street available for parking with 1 apartment complex with 4 housing units available.
There are only 17 available full parking spaces on our block, which means that if every single family has two cars, they're going to put one car in the garage, and one outside. There are 4 half-spaces which usually means one car parking alongside a piece of sidewalk that is not quite big enough for a parking space but is used by a resident anyway, so in reality, there are 21 spaces.
For the record my wife and I have two compact Toyota cars and we have 1 full parking space in front of our house.
Parking in general on the street is never a problem during ordinary weekday mornings when everyone is out to work. But I know that if I get home past 6, I'll be lucky to get any spot within the block.
That sometimes leaves me with 3 bags, and 30 lbs to haul about a quarter mile to my house. It's annoying.
The Beginning of the Situation with the Neighbor
I have little problems with the left-hand neighbor.
Our next door neighbor to the left is a multi-generational family with 3 generations under the roof. They've lived in the house next to us for close to 30 years. They have only three cars, 2 of which they keep in a garage/driveway --- some kind of SUV, a Toyota Avalon, and a Honda Accord, the only car that they keep outside.
I talk occasionally with someone from that house who is about my wife and I's age. He was the guy who was talking to me a little bit about what the neighborhood used to be like.
He has his grandma or mom, Beatrice, that I "used to" like and "used to" ask about my son. She had been somewhat generous to us, even offering him a little gift.
More on why I "used to like" and "used to" ask about my son later.
She knows everyone on the block; a lot of the houses are occupied by her relatives. Our right-hand neighbor is not their relative.
We used to speak to our right-hand neighbor quite often, or at least when we saw them. Or at least we spoke to someone from the right-hand neighbor's side. I would try to say hi every time I saw them; same thing with my wife.
Our right-hand neighbors appear to have at least 3 families in sections of the house as well as a backhouse. But the main person I interacted with was a family of 4 was a man whom I will refer to as Bernardo. Bernardo heads an immigrant family from Mexico, about my folks' age. They with an American-born child in his 20s and a teenager. They are grandparents whose grandkids occasionally come and visit on Holidays.
With at least 3 different families, the household has a total of 7 cars. Bernardo owns 4 of them, including a Dodge Ram that is never really used and sits in the driveway, a Dodge Durango which isn't used and last I saw was up for sale, a Mitsubishi Land Rover which acts as their utility car, and now a Dodge Truck with utility racks. A lot of big cars, 2 of which are functionally non-operated.
The other families have a Honda Accord, a Nissan pick-up truck, and a white hatchback.
What caused the cessation of our speaking?
This past summer, the city of Compton and/or the Sheriff's Department decided that it would be a good idea to outlaw parking on the other side of the street by posting "No Parking" signs, dramatically reducing the number of parking spaces available from the possible 30+ to the current 17.
For our seven-car friends to the right, that meant parking their largely non-operated Dodge Durango for 7 days at a time in front of our house until the next street cleaning came.
They did this for about 4 months, and it meant that I'd never get parking in front of my house; meaning I would have to haul 30 lbs of equipment and 3 bags to the car, sometimes with a baby in hand. During that period, it's not that I was bothered so much by not always getting the parking in front of my house; it's that I rarely got the opportunity while this asshole left it there for a week, every week.
This meant that this house, no bigger than our house, with quadruple the number of residents would take up not only their driveway, the parking space in front of their house, our house, and a couple of other houses. Meanwhile, I'd be lucky if there was a parking space.
The city's official policy is that a law enforcement agency can tow away a car after 72 hours of not moving which is in Chapter 12-4.4 of the municipal code.
The Sheriff's Department didn't do shit. I called up the direct line to their parking or transportation division. Though in fairness, I called at the wrong time; it was a Monday after street cleaning when they'd already moved the car.
They heard my whole story but ultimately said that they "didn't have the resources at the moment" to deal with the problem. They didn't offer any follow-up to resolving my problem.
They actually knew my street, and asked about another car on the street which I knew but had no problems with.
All I could do was get mad and yell in the privacy of my own house.
It didn't help that I would see other neighbors do things to preserve their spaces including putting garbage cans, or utility cones to save "their" spot. Or using their car to take two spaces.
It didn't help that there was also a few lingering annoyances committed by other neighbors including blocking our driveway or neighborhood kids leaning on my car.
The only way I could extract revenge: parking in the space in front of Bernardo's house, or in my driveway in a way to prevent their Land Rover from opening.
Today
It doesn't help that the overall parking situation on the block remains the same.
But now, I'm liking the left-hand neighbor's mom or grandma a little less than I once did.
Bernardo recently added a different car that changed the parking dynamics: a Dodge pickup with mounts. This means that he has been trying to sell the Durango, which as of yet, is still to no avail.
Bernardo doesn't park his Durango in front of our house anymore, which would have been welcome news 3 months ago. He does not occupy the space for a week at a time.
However, he will park there aggressively, claiming the space immediately after street cleaning when the official hours are not even over yet. Bernardo and his residents' cars still take up multiple spaces in front of our and other people's houses.
I want to get over all this, but at the moment I'm kind of annoyed at what appears to be gossip.
As I mentioned, I do sometimes park in front of their house. It makes things convenient for me.
One morning, I overheard Beatrice, our left-hand neighbor's grandma or mom, talking to Bernardo's wife.
They speak Spanish as their primary language, but I didn't like the tone, nor what appears to be the left-hand neighbor grandma's behavior towards me. I heard her say something about "calling the city," and "senor." It sounded like she was saying something about calling the city to make a parking space private. She'd had that conversation with us before, and probably has had it with her relatives.
Recently, Beatrice seems increasingly friendly with Bernardo's wife, and more curt with me. Additionally, it seems increasingly impossible to get parking in front of her other relatives' homes.
A defining moment happened last week during our street-cleaning day during the rain. I didn't have work on a Monday, and we had two cars --- one was already in the driveway. I had to move my other car for street cleaning.
The wind was blowing, but it wasn't raining. She was outside and asking me if it was our trash can they had taken. It was.
Cool.
She motioned to move back into her house.
Realizing I had to move the car soon, I asked if she could watch my son for a little bit. She responded, "no it's too cold." I showed her my son in the car seat, and she said "he's getting big," and vanished from sight.
I had to haul him back and forth about a quarter mile.
Adding salt to the wound, at 12 o clock, 1 hour before street cleaning hours are over, Bernardo swooped in for the parking space not only in front of our house, but at 12:05 came in with his Land Rover and swooped in for the parking space in front of his house.
What for?
Why would I be harboring animosity towards another fellow neighbor here in Compton?
Is it because of their vandalism?
Is it because I suspect that they're stealing?
Is it because of the loud music?
Is it because of the people that suspiciously hang around and bring trouble?
No, it's none of that.
It's because...
...of...
parking.
I know, my rational mind says it's a really stupid thing to get mad about considering that the street has probably seen much more serious problems and that is probably a lurking problem for everyone, but, it's been enough of an issue that our neighbors do various little things to hold onto their parking spots.
I think the previous owner of our house had even hinted at problems with parking and the right-hand neighbor. She hinted that "some people just need to be more educated..."
Whatever that meant.
Our street is really small. There are only 16 single-family houses on our block with only one side of the street available for parking with 1 apartment complex with 4 housing units available.
There are only 17 available full parking spaces on our block, which means that if every single family has two cars, they're going to put one car in the garage, and one outside. There are 4 half-spaces which usually means one car parking alongside a piece of sidewalk that is not quite big enough for a parking space but is used by a resident anyway, so in reality, there are 21 spaces.
For the record my wife and I have two compact Toyota cars and we have 1 full parking space in front of our house.
Parking in general on the street is never a problem during ordinary weekday mornings when everyone is out to work. But I know that if I get home past 6, I'll be lucky to get any spot within the block.
That sometimes leaves me with 3 bags, and 30 lbs to haul about a quarter mile to my house. It's annoying.
The Beginning of the Situation with the Neighbor
I have little problems with the left-hand neighbor.
Our next door neighbor to the left is a multi-generational family with 3 generations under the roof. They've lived in the house next to us for close to 30 years. They have only three cars, 2 of which they keep in a garage/driveway --- some kind of SUV, a Toyota Avalon, and a Honda Accord, the only car that they keep outside.
I talk occasionally with someone from that house who is about my wife and I's age. He was the guy who was talking to me a little bit about what the neighborhood used to be like.
He has his grandma or mom, Beatrice, that I "used to" like and "used to" ask about my son. She had been somewhat generous to us, even offering him a little gift.
More on why I "used to like" and "used to" ask about my son later.
She knows everyone on the block; a lot of the houses are occupied by her relatives. Our right-hand neighbor is not their relative.
We used to speak to our right-hand neighbor quite often, or at least when we saw them. Or at least we spoke to someone from the right-hand neighbor's side. I would try to say hi every time I saw them; same thing with my wife.
Our right-hand neighbors appear to have at least 3 families in sections of the house as well as a backhouse. But the main person I interacted with was a family of 4 was a man whom I will refer to as Bernardo. Bernardo heads an immigrant family from Mexico, about my folks' age. They with an American-born child in his 20s and a teenager. They are grandparents whose grandkids occasionally come and visit on Holidays.
With at least 3 different families, the household has a total of 7 cars. Bernardo owns 4 of them, including a Dodge Ram that is never really used and sits in the driveway, a Dodge Durango which isn't used and last I saw was up for sale, a Mitsubishi Land Rover which acts as their utility car, and now a Dodge Truck with utility racks. A lot of big cars, 2 of which are functionally non-operated.
The other families have a Honda Accord, a Nissan pick-up truck, and a white hatchback.
What caused the cessation of our speaking?
This past summer, the city of Compton and/or the Sheriff's Department decided that it would be a good idea to outlaw parking on the other side of the street by posting "No Parking" signs, dramatically reducing the number of parking spaces available from the possible 30+ to the current 17.
For our seven-car friends to the right, that meant parking their largely non-operated Dodge Durango for 7 days at a time in front of our house until the next street cleaning came.
They did this for about 4 months, and it meant that I'd never get parking in front of my house; meaning I would have to haul 30 lbs of equipment and 3 bags to the car, sometimes with a baby in hand. During that period, it's not that I was bothered so much by not always getting the parking in front of my house; it's that I rarely got the opportunity while this asshole left it there for a week, every week.
This meant that this house, no bigger than our house, with quadruple the number of residents would take up not only their driveway, the parking space in front of their house, our house, and a couple of other houses. Meanwhile, I'd be lucky if there was a parking space.
The city's official policy is that a law enforcement agency can tow away a car after 72 hours of not moving which is in Chapter 12-4.4 of the municipal code.
The Sheriff's Department didn't do shit. I called up the direct line to their parking or transportation division. Though in fairness, I called at the wrong time; it was a Monday after street cleaning when they'd already moved the car.
They heard my whole story but ultimately said that they "didn't have the resources at the moment" to deal with the problem. They didn't offer any follow-up to resolving my problem.
They actually knew my street, and asked about another car on the street which I knew but had no problems with.
All I could do was get mad and yell in the privacy of my own house.
It didn't help that I would see other neighbors do things to preserve their spaces including putting garbage cans, or utility cones to save "their" spot. Or using their car to take two spaces.
It didn't help that there was also a few lingering annoyances committed by other neighbors including blocking our driveway or neighborhood kids leaning on my car.
The only way I could extract revenge: parking in the space in front of Bernardo's house, or in my driveway in a way to prevent their Land Rover from opening.
Today
It doesn't help that the overall parking situation on the block remains the same.
But now, I'm liking the left-hand neighbor's mom or grandma a little less than I once did.
Bernardo recently added a different car that changed the parking dynamics: a Dodge pickup with mounts. This means that he has been trying to sell the Durango, which as of yet, is still to no avail.
Bernardo doesn't park his Durango in front of our house anymore, which would have been welcome news 3 months ago. He does not occupy the space for a week at a time.
However, he will park there aggressively, claiming the space immediately after street cleaning when the official hours are not even over yet. Bernardo and his residents' cars still take up multiple spaces in front of our and other people's houses.
I want to get over all this, but at the moment I'm kind of annoyed at what appears to be gossip.
As I mentioned, I do sometimes park in front of their house. It makes things convenient for me.
One morning, I overheard Beatrice, our left-hand neighbor's grandma or mom, talking to Bernardo's wife.
They speak Spanish as their primary language, but I didn't like the tone, nor what appears to be the left-hand neighbor grandma's behavior towards me. I heard her say something about "calling the city," and "senor." It sounded like she was saying something about calling the city to make a parking space private. She'd had that conversation with us before, and probably has had it with her relatives.
Recently, Beatrice seems increasingly friendly with Bernardo's wife, and more curt with me. Additionally, it seems increasingly impossible to get parking in front of her other relatives' homes.
A defining moment happened last week during our street-cleaning day during the rain. I didn't have work on a Monday, and we had two cars --- one was already in the driveway. I had to move my other car for street cleaning.
The wind was blowing, but it wasn't raining. She was outside and asking me if it was our trash can they had taken. It was.
Cool.
She motioned to move back into her house.
Realizing I had to move the car soon, I asked if she could watch my son for a little bit. She responded, "no it's too cold." I showed her my son in the car seat, and she said "he's getting big," and vanished from sight.
I had to haul him back and forth about a quarter mile.
Adding salt to the wound, at 12 o clock, 1 hour before street cleaning hours are over, Bernardo swooped in for the parking space not only in front of our house, but at 12:05 came in with his Land Rover and swooped in for the parking space in front of his house.
Being Consumerically Vegan
Becoming Mostly
Consumerically Vegan
Though after watching the brutality of the violence against
animals, becoming consumerically-vegan wasn’t a rash decision.
I have entertained and cultivated this idea for a really
long time, and my understanding has evolved to the point where I feel like
now’s the time.
Now what does being “consumerically-vegan” mean? It just means that I try not to buy products
that use animals. It means that I will
still eat meat if its around, but I just won’t buy it. We do not want to support the
industry. But in eating contexts where
there is a lot of socializing such as family parties or with friends, we don’t
really want to waste what has already been killed, so we will eat whatever
they’re eating.
The first time I heard of Veganism was during my first year
at UC Santa Cruz. It was a big kid named
Nils who took a lot of apples from the dining hall to brew beer in his dorm
room.
Vegetarianism was one thing.
Fairly understandable if not untenable, at least to my 18-year old, son
of a Filipino immigrant-grow-up in LA-mind.
Fairly understandable because I understood that OK, you just sit around
all day and stuff yourself with leafy lettuce and tomatoes all day. OK, that’s cool, for hippies.
But Veganism to me when I first heard about it was a little
extreme. Sitting around all day,
stuffing yourself with leafy lettuce and tomatoes while also making sure that
anything you eat has no milk, eggs, cheese --- dairy products. Hippie.
Extremism.
To me it just seemed like way too much trouble. Why go out of your way? What’s one less dead animal?
A few days ago, I joined the hippie extremist part of my
18-year old mind. 31-year old going on
32-year old me has decided to become a consumerist-vegan. A “consumerist-vegan” meaning I just try to
actively not buy any animal products.
I come in with the idea that I control my wallet better than
I control my appetite. So if I curb the
spending and choose not to spend on meat, then it will not be available, and I
won’t have any choice but to eat anything without animal products.
What had appeared to be a lot of rules and restrictions
about what I could eat has now become something I’ve simply decided just not to
actively seek out.
What’s Helped Me Make
This Choice?
A lot of things have fallen into place over the years.
First and foremost, I was strongly inspired by the visual of
what happens to animals. Seeing videos
of brutality against the animals drove the point home.
On a Saturday night in January, my wife and I had actually
just come home with a meal from our favorite burger joint in Wilmington. Not exactly a vegan-friendly establishment
though I never looked past their fish sandwich and fries.
Per Saturday night, we watched a Netflix movie, of three
people considering Veganism being coached up to become Vegan. I thought the host of the movie was kind of
self-absorbed and smug, but her movie did pack a few punches. One, she showed the naked brutality of the
treatment of cows, chickens, etc. Two,
she showed the foods that were “accidentally Vegan.”
There was a time in my life as a cynical prick-ish teenager
when I wouldn’t be as disturbed by the contents of a documentary, but I guess a
lot more life experience and regard for life has grown, so has the pull to make
such a dramatic lifestyle change.
Secondly, we’ve each experimented with the lifestyles of
Vegetarianism. She more than me. She actually was Vegetarian for a relatively
long time. She started eating meat while
at the convent because it was the only food offered, and they made her feel
bad.
Me, I ate Vegetarian meals because of who I happened to be
dating. Girlfriends #2 and #3
were/probably still are vegetarians.
They didn’t try to force me into it, and I wasn’t at all interested when
I was dating either. I was just waiting
for the times when I could eat meat.
However, from girlfriend #2, I learned about the Vegetarian-ish
foodscape particularly in central LA, and from girlfriend #3, I learned about the
concept of the foodscape, with which I am actively analyzing and
deconstructing; more of that below.
Thirdly, little trinkets of conversation over the years to
help me little by little come to the realization that Veganism was a mindset
that I could actually attain.
I realized that eating vegan wasn’t necessarily focusing on
eating vegetables to the exclusion of everything else. I think the popular perception,
certainly the idea my college-educated sister, and I had about vegetarianism
and veganism were that they just ate vegetables all the time.
However, for me at least, someone on a basketball message
board deconstructed that idea. Just
because they were vegan didn’t mean they spend their whole time obsessed with
vegetables and greens. The poster made the point that s/he ate things like
apples --- that’s vegan. It's a subtle
point that kind of stuck.
It wasn’t till I watched the movie and they listed a handful
of “accidentally vegan foods, that I decided OK, this really could be done. On the list of accidentally Vegan foods: Aunt Jemima and Pancakes, Lay’s BBQ Chips,
teddy grahams.
Fourthly, not only this backdrop of information overload
(Google and Yelp), but some more intimate knowledge of where I can get good
Vegan take-out or sit-down meals around the South Bay Los Angeles area.
It helps that I’ve been somewhat exposed to a handful of
vegetarian non-meat-based restaurants and products.
So far, my wife and I have “discovered” the Veggie Grill in
Torrance as a fine substitute for many of the eateries we used to go to in and around the South Bay. The only piece of meat that I really miss is In-N-Out, but apparently there's a few ways to make substitutes.
In addition to Trader Joe's, we've learned of the Vegan foods at stores we normally go to such "Vegan treats at Target" and "Vegan products at Costco."
I’ve slowly came to realize that
the quality of food matters more than scarcity. My mom taught me how to go for anything
cheap and convenient. Cheap clothes. Cheap shoes.
Cheap gifts. Cheap food. The more you get the better, every time. And that’s just how I thought and shopped
till I met my wife, who shopped at Trader Joes.
We are appalled at how cheap and convenient it is to not be Vegan. Going vegan, even as just a consumer is as if were paying for the privilege. Apparently it's just cheaper and easier to raise and then kill an animal.
What does it mean to
be consumerically-vegan?
I briefly told you of my wife’s story of converting from
vegetarianism back to meat-eating.
Some Anthropologists have also told parallel tales of
quitting vegetarianism only to eat meat because they would have offended their
participants.
My wife and I am sensitive to the fact that many people
around me and their diets are still based on animal products so a “consumerist-vegan”
is the best compromise to “living” Vegan while also not putting people around
us on the defensive.
Times where we have
lapsed
We are definitely not strictly “consumerically-vegan” as we
are learning all the dos and don’ts, and there are times when we have lapsed
into buying animal products.
Though its been far and few and between, here is a listing
of times we’ve lapsed:
-Buying cupcakes at a small bakery in Lakewood; I didn’t want to be rude to the one employee
there after stepping in
-Buying a trail mix with yogurt chips in it at Costco in Lakewood; kind of inexcusable
-Buying pizza while out with friends at Cpk in Lakewood
-Buying chicken pho and Thai Tea to celebrate my wife’s
birthday in Gardena; my wife’s favorite food
-Buying whole milk at Smart N Final in Compton;
for our kid
-Buying yogurt at Smart N Final in Compton; for
our kid
What makes it even harder is that my wife and I have a
one-year old. We were recently told by
our pediatrician that it was OK to have him drink whole milk; we asked if we could do Soy, but she gave us
the impression that it was to be used only if he had lactose intolerance.
He recently also had a bout of diarrhea and vomiting, which
to us as relatively new parents, is scary.
It seemed like he didn’t have a good reaction to the whole milk.
One solution to his dose of double trouble was doing the
BRAT(y) diet, which I read of online. It
consists of banana, rice, applesauce, and toast – a bland diet. The [y} in parentheses stands for yogurt, and
to me it makes sense because it is a probiotic --- good for his gut bacteria.
Neither of us are physicians, pediatricians, or
nutritionists, and were not as secure in our knowledge of dos and don'ts.
We want to be able to give him all the vitamins he needs,
and were kind of wary of supplements.
So our education continues.
The Different Ways I've Initially Described Compton to Different People, and Their Initial Reactionss
We talk differently to people depending on circumstances, and how we anticipate they'll respond to us.
With the way Compton has received an infusion of cultural capital in the past year because of the movie re-hashing NWA's rise and fall and Kendrick Lamar everything, you'd think it'd always be something to proudly declare, but not always so, particularly with people I don't know.
Generally in everyday conversation with acquaintances and people I don't immediately know, I try to show "alignment." That is, I just try to see where they're coming from and then "show" how similar I am to them.
With "people whom I've met only briefly", the conversation is all about getting to know a person, and "where I live" would be a primary question.
By "showing alignment", I am likely not going to mention that I am from Compton, unless they ask, but in a way that doesn't seem like they'd think any less of me and/or disregard any of my future opinions.
For example, when meeting new people, for me it's really difficult to tell white people who are generations before me because either they are outside of California and do not know the reference to Compton, they are from California and are probably likely to associate Compton with negativity.
In contrast, "people with whom I am in regular contact", we have an established certain pattern of interacting. Were beyond introductions and more about talking about whatever we've established talking about and updating each other on aspects of our lives. "Where I live" would usually be a question embedded within an established history of conversation.
So, here's a sampling of different people I've encountered over the past three years, their demographics, the circumstance in which I've introduced my town, and my relation to them divided by race. I divide on race, because in one-to-one interaction, it is the one attribute you can't really do anything to hide unless you're talking to a room of blind.
I don't think that we are inherently "different" as peoples of different races. I don't think "white people are a certain way, black people are a certain way etc.", but depending on your race (as well as class-gender-ethnicity-etc.), you will have associations, knowledges, and behaviors ascribed to your race. We as humans all carry very arbitrary, imperfect associations, knowledges, and behaviors of different races and ethnicities.
As you will read, those associations, knowledges, and behaviors constrain how both any given individual views and is viewed.
TO WHITE PEOPLE WITH WHOM I AM IN REGULAR CONTACT (OR USED TO BE): With these older people, I haven't really talked about where I live. I avoid it, or were too deep into the relationship talking about other things that where I live hasn't come up. With younger folks, I talk about it and it's not an issue after that.
To a blue-collar male co-worker in his mid-50s living in Orange County: I wrote about this guy here. Though I've developed a pretty good working relationship with him, I still avoid the topic as much as possible. I have not mentioned at all that I live in Compton. He thinks that I live in Long Beach, because I'd mentioned that I was "still" in Long Beach when I was running late one day.
To a college-educated male co-worker in his mid-50s formerly living in Culver City: Unlike the guy above, I would actually talk to this guy. He'd even met my wife and has seen my baby. He would talk about old Los Angeles, things he'd done on our job around LA, and trips he'd taken across the country and abroad. I never mentioned living in Compton, but it wasn't because I did not want to tell him; the topic just never came up.
To a graduate-school educated male lawyer in his mid-30s living in New England: Last time I saw this guy was my wedding. I warned him, told him, he drove in with his wife. Great times had.
To a some college female co-worker in her 40s-50s living in West Covina: I trained this person on a project. She was friendly and asked about my baby. I met her for the first time right after the shootings in San Bernardino and she said that she had ties to the facility. I was trying to feel her out based on how she was reacting. She never really asked so I never mentioned that I live in Compton.
To a some college male co-worker in his mid-20s living in Venice: This guy I'd actually consider my friend. I actually had him visit the house in Compton, on a Friday night. The first thing he did was call his brother and ask him, "hey guess where I am?"
TO WHITE PEOPLE WHOM I'VE MET ONLY BRIEFLY: I'm very guarded against older white people and try to get a feel for their political leanings. With younger people, I usually just try to lay cultural references thick on the "millennials."
To a college-educated female "co-worker" in her early 30s visiting from Washington, DC: She was there to observe me for a job, specifically for jobs in Compton. I told her that we'd be visiting the area. She seemed somewhat indifferent even as I was trying to make the rap references which seemed only vaguely familiar to her. She had the company-rented car and didn't mind leaving her car in a Compton neighborhood, a very suburban-Lakewood-ish-appearing area south of Rosecrans on the West side.
To a some college immigrant realtor in her 50s living in Upland: She was curious about the job I was doing. I explained my job. We got into a deeper conversation about children as she was carting around her grandson.
I initially told her I live in "Los Angeles." As the conversation snowballed and knowing her realtor sensibilities, I got comfortable enough to reveal that my wife. As I expected, she remarked that "buying" and "owning" is better than renting.
TO BLACK PEOPLE WITH WHOM I AM IN CONTACT REGULARLY (OR USED TO BE)
By "black people", I mean "black Americans." Black Americans usually know what Compton is and what it means. Despite living in Compton, I don't run across many from outside who would really question the experience. I think I garner more of an "oh really? Cool" sentiment from the very few that I know.
To a college-educated male former roommate and postman in his early 40s living in Long Beach: This guy was a transplant from the Midwest, whom I described on my former other blog. When I first told him bout my new digs in Compton, he told me to invite him over.
To a college-educated female birthing midwife in her late 40s-early 50s living in Upland: We told her kind of hesitantly that we lived in Compton, attempting to hint at the fact that it was a more Latino neighborhood in which there had been a hate crime. She responded in a way that said, "really, you think I'd be scared of Compton?"
TO ASIAN PEOPLE WITH WHOM I AM IN CONTACT REGULARLY (OR USED TO BE): This is pretty much family members and friends, so on one hand, I know they're supportive, but sometimes they might drop subtle cues. Also, since they're family and friends, I likely told them some two years ago in 2013-2014.
To a college-educated female immigrant nurse in her early 60s living in Santa Clarita: This is one of the aunties from my mom's class who seems to like me a lot. She actually visited me one time.
To a college-educated female nurse in her early 30s living Culver City: I went to grade school with her, she was a year behind me. We both ended up graduating from the same college, though I transferred from Slug Nation. She's a nurse now, and is still close to one of my close family friends. When I told her that we were living in Compton, she asked, "straight up?" The kicker is that she is going to marry a guy with whom I went to high school with and also was a year behind me, and also ended up at the same college. So I had to explain further, "yeah, it's the cheapest place to buy a house!"
To a college-educated female teacher in her early 30s living in Eagle Rock: This is the "close family friend" whom I mentioned in the synopsis previous to this one. She's been more like an older sister. She was supportive, after all she'd worked very close to the area. Though she did wonder, if I'd ever be able to sell the house that we'd bought.
To a college-educated male counselor in his early 30s living in the San Fernando Valley: This is my best man. He's a big fan of the wire and hip-hop, and especially Kendrick Lamar. I try to let him know about significant locations here.
To a college-educated male engineer in his early 30s living in Orange County: One of my groomsmen whom I've grown up with and told to visit, but he hasn't visited. But I think it's mostly because he's busy.
A graduate school educated female pharmacist in her early 30s living in West Covina and a graduate school educated counselor in her her early 30s living in Pasadena: I remember the conversation when I revealed to her and another friend that we were living in a house. I came off already apologizing for our location. I said something like "It's Compton, but..." They replied at different times saying essentially, "...but it's a house!"
TO ASIAN PEOPLE WHOM I'VE ONLY MET BRIEFLY: Like with older white people, I also am guarded and try to get a quick read on their political leanings.
To a blue-collar male welder in his late 60s living in Torrance: I met this guy while on a job in a beach city. He was seeing me doing my job, and was bragging at how he had been a veteran, and for a long-time an expert welder. He talked about his trips to different places. He encouraged me to go to school for welding at El Camino College so I could "better myself." I did not mention the city I live in to him.
To a college graduate female graduate student in her mid 20s living in LA: I met this girl while doing a big project. We found similar academic interests. She was from San Jose. I was kinda trying to get a feel for how she'd react but I let out that I live in Compton...but for economic reasons. She appeared to show alignment and understanding of my reasoning.
TO LATINO PEOPLE WITH WHOM I AM IN CONTACT REGULARLY (OR USED TO BE): Similar to the situation with black folk, I don't really have any issues telling any of them regardless of education, class, gender, or age that I'm from Compton. Usually I can joke with them about it, and/or comfortably invite them over with no issues.
To a blue-collar male co-worker in his early 30s living in South LA: Dude I'd consider the homey. He regularly comes to drop work off. He even has a girlfriend in the area.
To a blue-collar male co-worker in his early 30s living in East LA: Dude I'd consider the homey. He doesn't come to drop work off. We still joke a bit.
To a blue-collar male barber in his early 70s living in Gardena: This guy's my barber. He collects clocks and stuff from the '50s, which is displayed prominently all over his barber shop. I only recently started really getting close with him after my 3rd or 4th haircut, especially after I found that he's actually Mexican (thought he was some Italian guy from New York), and after a roving vendor with socks tried to sell me socks and called me a "verga" for pretending to be interested, when I was just trying to be nice. Anyhoo, I didn't really have much issue telling him that I was living in Compton. He told me he was from Watts, and the conversation went on and on from there.
To a some college female immigrant superior in her early 30s living in West Covina: Now this person is kind of my boss, but she's pretty cool. After a few projects under our belt, we've developed a pretty close working relationship. Our conversations are really always about work, but sometimes we deviate and talk about our families. I'd never really mentioned the city to her, except for job purposes. I don't really talk about it because I don't know how familiar she would be with any of the cultural references.
TO LATINO PEOPLE I'VE ONLY MET BRIEFLY
To a blue-collar male in his mid 20s living in South LA: I was working with this guy who had some punk rock T-shirt on all the time and was supposed to work with the company. He told me that he lived in South LA. I told him I lived up the street.
With the way Compton has received an infusion of cultural capital in the past year because of the movie re-hashing NWA's rise and fall and Kendrick Lamar everything, you'd think it'd always be something to proudly declare, but not always so, particularly with people I don't know.
Generally in everyday conversation with acquaintances and people I don't immediately know, I try to show "alignment." That is, I just try to see where they're coming from and then "show" how similar I am to them.
With "people whom I've met only briefly", the conversation is all about getting to know a person, and "where I live" would be a primary question.
By "showing alignment", I am likely not going to mention that I am from Compton, unless they ask, but in a way that doesn't seem like they'd think any less of me and/or disregard any of my future opinions.
For example, when meeting new people, for me it's really difficult to tell white people who are generations before me because either they are outside of California and do not know the reference to Compton, they are from California and are probably likely to associate Compton with negativity.
In contrast, "people with whom I am in regular contact", we have an established certain pattern of interacting. Were beyond introductions and more about talking about whatever we've established talking about and updating each other on aspects of our lives. "Where I live" would usually be a question embedded within an established history of conversation.
So, here's a sampling of different people I've encountered over the past three years, their demographics, the circumstance in which I've introduced my town, and my relation to them divided by race. I divide on race, because in one-to-one interaction, it is the one attribute you can't really do anything to hide unless you're talking to a room of blind.
I don't think that we are inherently "different" as peoples of different races. I don't think "white people are a certain way, black people are a certain way etc.", but depending on your race (as well as class-gender-ethnicity-etc.), you will have associations, knowledges, and behaviors ascribed to your race. We as humans all carry very arbitrary, imperfect associations, knowledges, and behaviors of different races and ethnicities.
As you will read, those associations, knowledges, and behaviors constrain how both any given individual views and is viewed.
TO WHITE PEOPLE WITH WHOM I AM IN REGULAR CONTACT (OR USED TO BE): With these older people, I haven't really talked about where I live. I avoid it, or were too deep into the relationship talking about other things that where I live hasn't come up. With younger folks, I talk about it and it's not an issue after that.
To a blue-collar male co-worker in his mid-50s living in Orange County: I wrote about this guy here. Though I've developed a pretty good working relationship with him, I still avoid the topic as much as possible. I have not mentioned at all that I live in Compton. He thinks that I live in Long Beach, because I'd mentioned that I was "still" in Long Beach when I was running late one day.
To a college-educated male co-worker in his mid-50s formerly living in Culver City: Unlike the guy above, I would actually talk to this guy. He'd even met my wife and has seen my baby. He would talk about old Los Angeles, things he'd done on our job around LA, and trips he'd taken across the country and abroad. I never mentioned living in Compton, but it wasn't because I did not want to tell him; the topic just never came up.
To a graduate-school educated male lawyer in his mid-30s living in New England: Last time I saw this guy was my wedding. I warned him, told him, he drove in with his wife. Great times had.
To a some college female co-worker in her 40s-50s living in West Covina: I trained this person on a project. She was friendly and asked about my baby. I met her for the first time right after the shootings in San Bernardino and she said that she had ties to the facility. I was trying to feel her out based on how she was reacting. She never really asked so I never mentioned that I live in Compton.
To a some college male co-worker in his mid-20s living in Venice: This guy I'd actually consider my friend. I actually had him visit the house in Compton, on a Friday night. The first thing he did was call his brother and ask him, "hey guess where I am?"
TO WHITE PEOPLE WHOM I'VE MET ONLY BRIEFLY: I'm very guarded against older white people and try to get a feel for their political leanings. With younger people, I usually just try to lay cultural references thick on the "millennials."
To a college-educated female "co-worker" in her early 30s visiting from Washington, DC: She was there to observe me for a job, specifically for jobs in Compton. I told her that we'd be visiting the area. She seemed somewhat indifferent even as I was trying to make the rap references which seemed only vaguely familiar to her. She had the company-rented car and didn't mind leaving her car in a Compton neighborhood, a very suburban-Lakewood-ish-appearing area south of Rosecrans on the West side.
To a some college immigrant realtor in her 50s living in Upland: She was curious about the job I was doing. I explained my job. We got into a deeper conversation about children as she was carting around her grandson.
I initially told her I live in "Los Angeles." As the conversation snowballed and knowing her realtor sensibilities, I got comfortable enough to reveal that my wife. As I expected, she remarked that "buying" and "owning" is better than renting.
TO BLACK PEOPLE WITH WHOM I AM IN CONTACT REGULARLY (OR USED TO BE)
By "black people", I mean "black Americans." Black Americans usually know what Compton is and what it means. Despite living in Compton, I don't run across many from outside who would really question the experience. I think I garner more of an "oh really? Cool" sentiment from the very few that I know.
To a college-educated male former roommate and postman in his early 40s living in Long Beach: This guy was a transplant from the Midwest, whom I described on my former other blog. When I first told him bout my new digs in Compton, he told me to invite him over.
To a college-educated female birthing midwife in her late 40s-early 50s living in Upland: We told her kind of hesitantly that we lived in Compton, attempting to hint at the fact that it was a more Latino neighborhood in which there had been a hate crime. She responded in a way that said, "really, you think I'd be scared of Compton?"
TO ASIAN PEOPLE WITH WHOM I AM IN CONTACT REGULARLY (OR USED TO BE): This is pretty much family members and friends, so on one hand, I know they're supportive, but sometimes they might drop subtle cues. Also, since they're family and friends, I likely told them some two years ago in 2013-2014.
To a college-educated female immigrant nurse in her early 60s living in Santa Clarita: This is one of the aunties from my mom's class who seems to like me a lot. She actually visited me one time.
To a college-educated female nurse in her early 30s living Culver City: I went to grade school with her, she was a year behind me. We both ended up graduating from the same college, though I transferred from Slug Nation. She's a nurse now, and is still close to one of my close family friends. When I told her that we were living in Compton, she asked, "straight up?" The kicker is that she is going to marry a guy with whom I went to high school with and also was a year behind me, and also ended up at the same college. So I had to explain further, "yeah, it's the cheapest place to buy a house!"
To a college-educated female teacher in her early 30s living in Eagle Rock: This is the "close family friend" whom I mentioned in the synopsis previous to this one. She's been more like an older sister. She was supportive, after all she'd worked very close to the area. Though she did wonder, if I'd ever be able to sell the house that we'd bought.
To a college-educated male counselor in his early 30s living in the San Fernando Valley: This is my best man. He's a big fan of the wire and hip-hop, and especially Kendrick Lamar. I try to let him know about significant locations here.
To a college-educated male engineer in his early 30s living in Orange County: One of my groomsmen whom I've grown up with and told to visit, but he hasn't visited. But I think it's mostly because he's busy.
A graduate school educated female pharmacist in her early 30s living in West Covina and a graduate school educated counselor in her her early 30s living in Pasadena: I remember the conversation when I revealed to her and another friend that we were living in a house. I came off already apologizing for our location. I said something like "It's Compton, but..." They replied at different times saying essentially, "...but it's a house!"
TO ASIAN PEOPLE WHOM I'VE ONLY MET BRIEFLY: Like with older white people, I also am guarded and try to get a quick read on their political leanings.
To a blue-collar male welder in his late 60s living in Torrance: I met this guy while on a job in a beach city. He was seeing me doing my job, and was bragging at how he had been a veteran, and for a long-time an expert welder. He talked about his trips to different places. He encouraged me to go to school for welding at El Camino College so I could "better myself." I did not mention the city I live in to him.
To a college graduate female graduate student in her mid 20s living in LA: I met this girl while doing a big project. We found similar academic interests. She was from San Jose. I was kinda trying to get a feel for how she'd react but I let out that I live in Compton...but for economic reasons. She appeared to show alignment and understanding of my reasoning.
TO LATINO PEOPLE WITH WHOM I AM IN CONTACT REGULARLY (OR USED TO BE): Similar to the situation with black folk, I don't really have any issues telling any of them regardless of education, class, gender, or age that I'm from Compton. Usually I can joke with them about it, and/or comfortably invite them over with no issues.
To a blue-collar male co-worker in his early 30s living in South LA: Dude I'd consider the homey. He regularly comes to drop work off. He even has a girlfriend in the area.
To a blue-collar male co-worker in his early 30s living in East LA: Dude I'd consider the homey. He doesn't come to drop work off. We still joke a bit.
To a blue-collar male barber in his early 70s living in Gardena: This guy's my barber. He collects clocks and stuff from the '50s, which is displayed prominently all over his barber shop. I only recently started really getting close with him after my 3rd or 4th haircut, especially after I found that he's actually Mexican (thought he was some Italian guy from New York), and after a roving vendor with socks tried to sell me socks and called me a "verga" for pretending to be interested, when I was just trying to be nice. Anyhoo, I didn't really have much issue telling him that I was living in Compton. He told me he was from Watts, and the conversation went on and on from there.
To a some college female immigrant superior in her early 30s living in West Covina: Now this person is kind of my boss, but she's pretty cool. After a few projects under our belt, we've developed a pretty close working relationship. Our conversations are really always about work, but sometimes we deviate and talk about our families. I'd never really mentioned the city to her, except for job purposes. I don't really talk about it because I don't know how familiar she would be with any of the cultural references.
TO LATINO PEOPLE I'VE ONLY MET BRIEFLY
To a blue-collar male in his mid 20s living in South LA: I was working with this guy who had some punk rock T-shirt on all the time and was supposed to work with the company. He told me that he lived in South LA. I told him I lived up the street.
Ralph's Closed in Compton, Yet Another Smart N Final Opened
On the evening drive home from working the more Eastern parts of the OC about a week ago, I was trying to get a cake to celebrate Mr. Boy's 9 months of life.
My mind was trying to imagine where I could get a super-market cake could be had. I wasn't necessarily thinking cake from specialty shop ala 85 Degrees as the price could be a bit much, I was just thinking something from one of the more "middle-class" supermarkets that tend to have a wider selection of baked goods: Ralphs, Vons, Albertsons.
The meaning of those supermarkets to us as a family is: "fresh", ready-to-eat food.
When I think of any of these, I think of donuts in the morning and chicken and potato wedges, or even salad. I also think of their endless selections of baked goods.
Taking Artesia all the way from La Habra, I passed up a bunch of Stater Brothers. Honestly, I didn't know enough about Stater Brothers to stop. They are actually around Long Beach-ish areas, and their commercial jingle has been permanently branded into my cortex (from a childhood of being subject to their commercials), but I've only gone once inside their stores.
I was trying to imagine where in/around Compton I could get this cake.
I know Food4Less, the lower-class subsidiary of Ralphs, might have some, but I've always been skeptical of the freshness of its baked goods and deli, which might be completely unfounded.
Then a thought sprung, the Ralphs on Compton Blvd, near City Hall! (El Super briefly crossed my mind, but typically I'd only go there for fruits or "paisa" baked goods)
Yes!
Only when I turned left, going North on Santa Fe, I didn't see anything.
It appeared that where Ralphs was, a Smart N Final had taken its place.
I'd only heard about the Smart N Final taking the place of the Fresh N Easy on Rosecrans and Central, but not a word about this Ralphs silently closing down, which according to Yelp comments closed down sometime in the summer.
What does it mean to have a Smart N Final instead of a Ralphs?
Immediately, at that time and place of celebrating my son's 9 months with my wife on a weekday night, I couldn't really get a cake at the Smart N Final in Compton.
There is no bakery or deli at the Smart N Final. They have baked goods, but not seeing any baked goods baking area, I kinda wondered where they got the limited selection of goods made. I think the bachelorized, younger, more cost-conscious version of me would've picked something, anything from the store. The married, still cost-conscious, but kind-of-aware-of-my-wife's-tastes led me out of the store.
Smart N Final isn't a bad store at all. They have the fresh veggies and fruits, which is a heck of a lot more important long-term than whether or not they have cakes or food at a deli. They're reasonably cheap on most things, though I haven't sat down to calculate exactly how much cheaper/expensive they are.
Ultimately, what it meant for me was a trip to another store, 4.5 Miles Westward into Gardena along Redondo Beach Blvd to Vons. There I was able to pick up not only a cake but also a pound of crab salad and potato wedges for our bellies. It also meant paying $3.99 for a kale salad kit that we could get much bigger at Costco for around $6-$7. For us as a family, having that Smart N Final instead of Ralphs meant that there wasn't immediate physical access to as much fresh, ready-to-eat things from a supermarket. Or at least catering to our middle-class-ish perceptions of what fresh, ready-to-eat is.
It's not that I'm making a demand, it's just, that's the way it is.
My mind was trying to imagine where I could get a super-market cake could be had. I wasn't necessarily thinking cake from specialty shop ala 85 Degrees as the price could be a bit much, I was just thinking something from one of the more "middle-class" supermarkets that tend to have a wider selection of baked goods: Ralphs, Vons, Albertsons.
The meaning of those supermarkets to us as a family is: "fresh", ready-to-eat food.
When I think of any of these, I think of donuts in the morning and chicken and potato wedges, or even salad. I also think of their endless selections of baked goods.
Taking Artesia all the way from La Habra, I passed up a bunch of Stater Brothers. Honestly, I didn't know enough about Stater Brothers to stop. They are actually around Long Beach-ish areas, and their commercial jingle has been permanently branded into my cortex (from a childhood of being subject to their commercials), but I've only gone once inside their stores.
I was trying to imagine where in/around Compton I could get this cake.
I know Food4Less, the lower-class subsidiary of Ralphs, might have some, but I've always been skeptical of the freshness of its baked goods and deli, which might be completely unfounded.
Then a thought sprung, the Ralphs on Compton Blvd, near City Hall! (El Super briefly crossed my mind, but typically I'd only go there for fruits or "paisa" baked goods)
Yes!
Only when I turned left, going North on Santa Fe, I didn't see anything.
It appeared that where Ralphs was, a Smart N Final had taken its place.
I'd only heard about the Smart N Final taking the place of the Fresh N Easy on Rosecrans and Central, but not a word about this Ralphs silently closing down, which according to Yelp comments closed down sometime in the summer.
What does it mean to have a Smart N Final instead of a Ralphs?
Immediately, at that time and place of celebrating my son's 9 months with my wife on a weekday night, I couldn't really get a cake at the Smart N Final in Compton.
There is no bakery or deli at the Smart N Final. They have baked goods, but not seeing any baked goods baking area, I kinda wondered where they got the limited selection of goods made. I think the bachelorized, younger, more cost-conscious version of me would've picked something, anything from the store. The married, still cost-conscious, but kind-of-aware-of-my-wife's-tastes led me out of the store.
Smart N Final isn't a bad store at all. They have the fresh veggies and fruits, which is a heck of a lot more important long-term than whether or not they have cakes or food at a deli. They're reasonably cheap on most things, though I haven't sat down to calculate exactly how much cheaper/expensive they are.
Ultimately, what it meant for me was a trip to another store, 4.5 Miles Westward into Gardena along Redondo Beach Blvd to Vons. There I was able to pick up not only a cake but also a pound of crab salad and potato wedges for our bellies. It also meant paying $3.99 for a kale salad kit that we could get much bigger at Costco for around $6-$7. For us as a family, having that Smart N Final instead of Ralphs meant that there wasn't immediate physical access to as much fresh, ready-to-eat things from a supermarket. Or at least catering to our middle-class-ish perceptions of what fresh, ready-to-eat is.
It's not that I'm making a demand, it's just, that's the way it is.
Election Results from that November 3 Election
About a week ago, I participated in my first Compton election. A very small one, with only 2 things to vote on.
I know that Measure A passed. That means my family and I are going to pay an extra $100 in property taxes in addition to the $3,300 we owe. Woo. I'm not sure what I'd want Compton High to look like after all that tax money, but I don't really have high expectations. Shooting from the hip, I think there is an "infrastructure of corruption"; in about 5-10 years we'll find out that the money was misappropriated. Sadly, I expect it, especially in our town with plenty of social capital but very little economic capital.
Normally I'd a voted money for schools, but I guess I'm just sour about our property tax bill and adding yet another expense to our fragile economic situation. But in reality, I guess $100 a year won't kill us either, I hope.
If I had not been looking past the LA Vote page, I didn't really understand who'd actually been elected to school board, except that incumbent Micah Ali was definitely in, as the leading vote-getter in the race. He was specifically named by the woman who approached me last week on my way to the polls as the guy NOT to vote.
It appears that a some people really did not like him. It appears one of the searing issues was of teacher layoffs. Unheralded in any news coverage that I regularly watch (KPCC, NBC4, CBS [the morning show bleeds over because of Colbert]), apparently teachers called a "sick-out" the day after the election.
Besides Micah Ali, we were allowed to choose two others, so Charles Davis and Sandra Moss are also in. Neither of these people I know about, thought I've learned through her Facebook campaign page, that Sandra Moss is one of the people who voted No on Measure A. Woot.
I guess now that I know a few names, I'm going to start actually following these people.
I know that Measure A passed. That means my family and I are going to pay an extra $100 in property taxes in addition to the $3,300 we owe. Woo. I'm not sure what I'd want Compton High to look like after all that tax money, but I don't really have high expectations. Shooting from the hip, I think there is an "infrastructure of corruption"; in about 5-10 years we'll find out that the money was misappropriated. Sadly, I expect it, especially in our town with plenty of social capital but very little economic capital.
Normally I'd a voted money for schools, but I guess I'm just sour about our property tax bill and adding yet another expense to our fragile economic situation. But in reality, I guess $100 a year won't kill us either, I hope.
If I had not been looking past the LA Vote page, I didn't really understand who'd actually been elected to school board, except that incumbent Micah Ali was definitely in, as the leading vote-getter in the race. He was specifically named by the woman who approached me last week on my way to the polls as the guy NOT to vote.
It appears that a some people really did not like him. It appears one of the searing issues was of teacher layoffs. Unheralded in any news coverage that I regularly watch (KPCC, NBC4, CBS [the morning show bleeds over because of Colbert]), apparently teachers called a "sick-out" the day after the election.
Besides Micah Ali, we were allowed to choose two others, so Charles Davis and Sandra Moss are also in. Neither of these people I know about, thought I've learned through her Facebook campaign page, that Sandra Moss is one of the people who voted No on Measure A. Woot.
I guess now that I know a few names, I'm going to start actually following these people.
Being Real about Knowing Candidates and Ballots in Local Elections
Today marked the first time that I officially voted on a Compton ballot.
I had no idea who any of the people were.
Micah Ali, Skyy Fisher, Arturo Frazier...
Rang no bells for me unless I'd just passed a formerly vacant fenced off brownspace full of fliers.
At stake were/are three seats on the school board, which we will find out the next day.
The only ways I've learned about these people:
1) Posters on vacant empty spaces
2) Physical mailers
And even then, I could only recognize names and symbols. I couldn't differentiate between any of them.
Even worse, I didn't even know what measures were on the ballot.
I was planning for information from the iPhone to do that --- it couldn't help me differentiate candidates on the spot, but it did help to see a PDF online of a plain English breakdown.
As I made my way to Laurel School Elementary, I ran into a Spanish-speaking woman who also was searching for the polls. I tried with Spanglish to communicate with her and figured out that she most definitely not want Micah Ali and was rabidly against Measure S. She also recommended voting Richard Alatorre.
I had been "considering" Micah Ali for one of the seats and had no idea what Measure S was.
When It Came Down to Marking the Ballot
To my surprise, there were only two items in this election cycle: choosing three school board members and Measure S.
The only information we are given about each of the candidates is their name and profession.
Given that information, and without days of thoroughly researching each candidate, the only thing I was sure about was that I was probably not going to vote in Micah Ali nor Skyy Fisher.
I looked at the names and their professions. It appears that I chose people that seemed closest and relatable to what I consider trustworthy.
Hmm...Professor and Instructor, Lizette Arevalo was my first choice, though I don't remember seeing her name anywhere.
Then I saw something about UC Irvine, and being super-involved in lots of community work --- Denzell Perry became my 2nd choice.
Then I remember seeing Arturo Frazier's poster somewhere. I guess I just really liked his name and the multi-culturality it seemed to represent of the area. Arturo. Frazier.
Yea. That's how I chose my three candidates for Compton School Board 2015.
After the lady approached me and we had our little conversation, Measure S was a slam dunk no for me, given that I've already began complaining about property taxes. It's quite the switch of a position for me, because typically I'd like to think prioritizing schools especially the upgrade of a school like Compton High school is important, but paying an extra $100 a year on property taxes is a non-starter.
I had no idea who any of the people were.
Micah Ali, Skyy Fisher, Arturo Frazier...
Rang no bells for me unless I'd just passed a formerly vacant fenced off brownspace full of fliers.
At stake were/are three seats on the school board, which we will find out the next day.
The only ways I've learned about these people:
1) Posters on vacant empty spaces
2) Physical mailers
And even then, I could only recognize names and symbols. I couldn't differentiate between any of them.
Even worse, I didn't even know what measures were on the ballot.
I was planning for information from the iPhone to do that --- it couldn't help me differentiate candidates on the spot, but it did help to see a PDF online of a plain English breakdown.
As I made my way to Laurel School Elementary, I ran into a Spanish-speaking woman who also was searching for the polls. I tried with Spanglish to communicate with her and figured out that she most definitely not want Micah Ali and was rabidly against Measure S. She also recommended voting Richard Alatorre.
I had been "considering" Micah Ali for one of the seats and had no idea what Measure S was.
When It Came Down to Marking the Ballot
To my surprise, there were only two items in this election cycle: choosing three school board members and Measure S.
The only information we are given about each of the candidates is their name and profession.
Given that information, and without days of thoroughly researching each candidate, the only thing I was sure about was that I was probably not going to vote in Micah Ali nor Skyy Fisher.
I looked at the names and their professions. It appears that I chose people that seemed closest and relatable to what I consider trustworthy.
Hmm...Professor and Instructor, Lizette Arevalo was my first choice, though I don't remember seeing her name anywhere.
Then I saw something about UC Irvine, and being super-involved in lots of community work --- Denzell Perry became my 2nd choice.
Then I remember seeing Arturo Frazier's poster somewhere. I guess I just really liked his name and the multi-culturality it seemed to represent of the area. Arturo. Frazier.
Yea. That's how I chose my three candidates for Compton School Board 2015.
After the lady approached me and we had our little conversation, Measure S was a slam dunk no for me, given that I've already began complaining about property taxes. It's quite the switch of a position for me, because typically I'd like to think prioritizing schools especially the upgrade of a school like Compton High school is important, but paying an extra $100 a year on property taxes is a non-starter.
Property Taxes Is Making Owning a Home in Compton Very Hard
Were paying close to $3,300 in property taxes for our property.
Which according to the #3 Google Search result from "los angeles property tax calculator" is actually the median tax paid in LA County.
OK.
However, the median price of a house in LA County is $420,000. Much higher than what we paid. In California, you pay property taxes based on the market value of your home. Our market value is not $420,000, which means that we should probably pay a lot less.
$3,300 wouldn't be as big a deal if I were making $120,000 a year. I barely make a fraction of this amount. Basically what people paid to watch the MayPac non-fight in person was basically what I make.
We paid a lot less than $420,000, not even half that amount. We paid around $170,000. With that home value, the site estimates that we should be paying $1,300, about the amount of our monthly mortgage.
But in actuality they're demanding DOUBLE our monthly mortgage.
Yay.
This is on top of our school loans ($300), our utilities ($350), gas money ($240), groceries ($400) on two incomes totaling $60K per year, which actually isn't so bad, but more than once I've had to pick up a job or two.
Searching for answers, we called the phone number on that bill. Whoever took our phone call explained that part of the reason our property tax was high was due to two reasons:
1) Prop 13 ensures that properties bought after 1978 are based on current market value of our home. As new homeowners, we have had to pay property taxes based on market value.
On the surface it sounds harmless, but considering what it has done to public education, and the benefits it gives to old homeowners, it really seems to be pinching us.
From what little I understand, the proposition made it easy for old homeowners, those who bought property before 1978, to prevent neighborhood change.
This NY Times opinion piece from 1988 captures the reality I feel we are currently experiencing in 2015:
I mean, I cleaned out the last of my savings to put into the cheapest house we could buy in Compton. I'm wondering how my Pacific Palisadian high school classmates would see me now.
It makes me wonder about how much our next-door neighbors pay and the real difficulties and hidden costs of home ownership.
2) Compton, and other cities with lower to lower middle-income earners have the highest tax rates.
Why?
An LA Times Article from 2010 explains:
OK.
However, the median price of a house in LA County is $420,000. Much higher than what we paid. In California, you pay property taxes based on the market value of your home. Our market value is not $420,000, which means that we should probably pay a lot less.
$3,300 wouldn't be as big a deal if I were making $120,000 a year. I barely make a fraction of this amount. Basically what people paid to watch the MayPac non-fight in person was basically what I make.
We paid a lot less than $420,000, not even half that amount. We paid around $170,000. With that home value, the site estimates that we should be paying $1,300, about the amount of our monthly mortgage.
But in actuality they're demanding DOUBLE our monthly mortgage.
Yay.
This is on top of our school loans ($300), our utilities ($350), gas money ($240), groceries ($400) on two incomes totaling $60K per year, which actually isn't so bad, but more than once I've had to pick up a job or two.
Searching for answers, we called the phone number on that bill. Whoever took our phone call explained that part of the reason our property tax was high was due to two reasons:
1) Prop 13 ensures that properties bought after 1978 are based on current market value of our home. As new homeowners, we have had to pay property taxes based on market value.
On the surface it sounds harmless, but considering what it has done to public education, and the benefits it gives to old homeowners, it really seems to be pinching us.
From what little I understand, the proposition made it easy for old homeowners, those who bought property before 1978, to prevent neighborhood change.
This NY Times opinion piece from 1988 captures the reality I feel we are currently experiencing in 2015:
If you combine higher tax assessments with sharply higher impact fees, the upshot is that newcomers, many of whom struggled mightily just to make their first down payment, are subsidizing public services for low-taxed landed gentry.The reality of "struggling mightily just to make our first down payment" was real.
I mean, I cleaned out the last of my savings to put into the cheapest house we could buy in Compton. I'm wondering how my Pacific Palisadian high school classmates would see me now.
It makes me wonder about how much our next-door neighbors pay and the real difficulties and hidden costs of home ownership.
2) Compton, and other cities with lower to lower middle-income earners have the highest tax rates.
Why?
An LA Times Article from 2010 explains:
"An additional problem facing low-income cities, particularly during the current economic downturn, is that many have scanty commercial districts that generate little sales tax revenue. As a result, poorer cities tend to be more dependent on property tax revenue than wealthier ones."
My Thoughts on Straight Outta Compton as a Resident of Compton Today
If you were actually living in Compton today, you would hardly see any trace of the mega-blockbuster that tore up the box office in its opening weekend to the tune of $122 million dollars as of its 2nd weekend in widespread release.
There isn't any big billboard that I see (at least here in the Westside).
There isn't a movie theater to watch it in unless you trek on over at least 15 minutes East along Rosecrans Blvd to the Bianchi Theater in Paramount.
I think our mayor Aja Brown has made it a point that she kinda wants to distance from the past and move on.
Overall, I enjoyed it. I was entertained. Full. Stop.
But I think I set my expectations right where I thought the movie would meet them. This means that I didn't think the movie would be that enlightening, nor that earth-shattering, nor necessarily completely progressive --- that is free of misogyny; I was just happy it's in a context now in America where a city that would otherwise be ignored gets some cultural cache and recognition, and forms some kind of shared reference point for consumers of popular American culture.
While you won't really learn a lot about Compton from a 2-hour movie, I think the movie is most relevant to today's culture as a small piece in the conversation on police relations with communities of color.
This movie is not an afternoon special on PBS about the city, so you'd be sorely disappointed if you were expecting to hear anything about Latinos, or about the development of the city of Compton itself.
Just as I had heard from the Watts prophets a few weeks ago, as the Straight Outta [City Name, Place Here] meme has become popular, Compton is a symbol, the name that is a stand-in and representative of the experience of being black, poor, and in a city in America.
"We wanted to put Compton on the map and now its here to say," MC Ren
There's Not Much "Actual" Compton in "Straight Outta Compton"
It seems like the NWAers are trying to say that they came at a time when their city was invisible, neglected, ignored. They blasted a path out of that.
25 years later, their city is still kind of invisible, neglected, and ignored, but now people have some images of what they think that is, and it's mostly reliant on whatever NWA said.
What the movie showed was a history I have not experienced at all here. It all seems tied to an era (1980s-1990s) rather than places. You go to any urban area in LA or even parts of Orange County, whether in Eastside Long Beach or Compton, and most life-long and former residents will more or less tell you, the 1980s and 1990s were extremely crazy. Those are the eras with all the mythical-sounding stories of how kids were beat up at bus benches in Long Beach, how to survive on my block, you basically had to run to your house.
As a representation of the realities of the city and surrounding cities around Compton, the movie took very careful attention to aesthetic details or at least with details with which I had been familiar: from the logo of the old Metro buses, to the old LAPD cars. Growing up in LA seeing those same buses and LAPD cars again, it was enough to make me believe, "oh shit, this did happen, and they were there!"
However, there is no real sense of place in a movie with the name of a city in it.
Some guy from UCLA kinda agreed with me. The movie's focus on the group meant that other than the opening scenes we did not see how these members interacted with community members, other than occasional run-ins with Torrance and Detroit PD.
The movie does not mention much if any of the physical geography of Compton.
Over the years, I think we've grown accustomed to the idea in hip-hop and general American pop culture folklore that place shapes character. A place makes you who you are, kinda points you in a direction of what you become.
We get a general sense of the drug and gang violence that surrounds them, but we don't see how Compton in particular is this place. In one scene we see Crip gang members from "Crenshaw", which is in Inglewood, probably about 3 or 5 miles away from Compton.
Other than the opening scene where Eazy mentions "Greenleaf Blvd" and one scene at Compton Civic Center, I didn't get any idea that they were in the actual Compton but more so the symbolic Compton.
Greenleaf Blvd would mean nothing to no one other residents and/or than people paying very close attention to little details. We don't really get any introduction to what the street is or means, it's just a reference point known to the actors in the movie, but not the actual audience, and so Greenleaf Blvd could be Main Street USA or Vermont Ave. or Crenshaw Blvd.
I had to look up Skateland (one of the first venues we see NWA performing at) after watching the movie to locate any sense of place. The LA Times had a quick write-up of the place.
This is what Skateland looks like now (located on Central Ave. and 135th):
Jump Re-Starting the Conversation on Police Brutality
For a movie and group based on showing police brutality, the brutality and brutalizing by cops doesn't seem to actually take place in Compton aside from one incident. They rely on their experiences in Torrance, in some incidents at a home, their experience of seeing the Rodney King video.
The main reason I say that I'm glad that the movie exists to be a part of the conversation on police relations is that I don't think that blockbusters showing police doing wrong usually do this well in the box office or on television.
I guess like the movie because the topics it brings up represent an anomaly, packed with references to real-life events of police brutality that I think the American media-consuming public has seen and been seeing for the past five or so years.
When it comes to race relations and public perceptions of the police, doing some kind of police work is always portrayed with a positive upswing. On network television in particular, there's no shortage of cop shows portraying the complexities, emotional highs and lows of cops on network television. In the cinemas, the same thing. In fact, the big irony is that before we even saw this movie, they stuck in a promo for Ice Cube's comedy with Kevin Hart, in which he actually portrays a cop. It seems like that was stuck in there to foil the message of the biggest takeaway from the group and group's history.
I think the biggest takeaway from the movie is essentially the conditions of the 1990s with police departments staffed largely by outsiders, coming into a community, and dictating rules on their terms rather than community-defined terms.
I'm not sure to what extent that happens anymore. For me I haven't witnessed it happening.
As far as the actual experience of police here in Compton, the police (the LA County Sheriff's Department) have been pretty alright to me so far. What can I say? They come when our house alarm has gone off. When I call about a neighbor, they've responded, so far. They can speak Spanish, they seem like they can talk to people. I'm not sure what the history has been with them or "Compton Sheriff's Department" (as it would have been known in the 1980-1990ss) had been, but on first glance it just seems the departments are staffed by people actually more predisposed to being from and in the community rather than outside it.
The LAPD, the overarching bureaucratic police department that oversees LA (and does NOT include the city of Compton) seems to have changed a lot from the days of Darryl Gates and his "us-against-them" mentality. They have work to do, but still just like the Sherriff's Department it seems areas are staffed by people being from the community.
There isn't any big billboard that I see (at least here in the Westside).
There isn't a movie theater to watch it in unless you trek on over at least 15 minutes East along Rosecrans Blvd to the Bianchi Theater in Paramount.
I think our mayor Aja Brown has made it a point that she kinda wants to distance from the past and move on.
Overall, I enjoyed it. I was entertained. Full. Stop.
But I think I set my expectations right where I thought the movie would meet them. This means that I didn't think the movie would be that enlightening, nor that earth-shattering, nor necessarily completely progressive --- that is free of misogyny; I was just happy it's in a context now in America where a city that would otherwise be ignored gets some cultural cache and recognition, and forms some kind of shared reference point for consumers of popular American culture.
While you won't really learn a lot about Compton from a 2-hour movie, I think the movie is most relevant to today's culture as a small piece in the conversation on police relations with communities of color.
This movie is not an afternoon special on PBS about the city, so you'd be sorely disappointed if you were expecting to hear anything about Latinos, or about the development of the city of Compton itself.
Just as I had heard from the Watts prophets a few weeks ago, as the Straight Outta [City Name, Place Here] meme has become popular, Compton is a symbol, the name that is a stand-in and representative of the experience of being black, poor, and in a city in America.
"We wanted to put Compton on the map and now its here to say," MC Ren
There's Not Much "Actual" Compton in "Straight Outta Compton"
It seems like the NWAers are trying to say that they came at a time when their city was invisible, neglected, ignored. They blasted a path out of that.
25 years later, their city is still kind of invisible, neglected, and ignored, but now people have some images of what they think that is, and it's mostly reliant on whatever NWA said.
What the movie showed was a history I have not experienced at all here. It all seems tied to an era (1980s-1990s) rather than places. You go to any urban area in LA or even parts of Orange County, whether in Eastside Long Beach or Compton, and most life-long and former residents will more or less tell you, the 1980s and 1990s were extremely crazy. Those are the eras with all the mythical-sounding stories of how kids were beat up at bus benches in Long Beach, how to survive on my block, you basically had to run to your house.
As a representation of the realities of the city and surrounding cities around Compton, the movie took very careful attention to aesthetic details or at least with details with which I had been familiar: from the logo of the old Metro buses, to the old LAPD cars. Growing up in LA seeing those same buses and LAPD cars again, it was enough to make me believe, "oh shit, this did happen, and they were there!"
However, there is no real sense of place in a movie with the name of a city in it.
Some guy from UCLA kinda agreed with me. The movie's focus on the group meant that other than the opening scenes we did not see how these members interacted with community members, other than occasional run-ins with Torrance and Detroit PD.
The movie does not mention much if any of the physical geography of Compton.
Over the years, I think we've grown accustomed to the idea in hip-hop and general American pop culture folklore that place shapes character. A place makes you who you are, kinda points you in a direction of what you become.
We get a general sense of the drug and gang violence that surrounds them, but we don't see how Compton in particular is this place. In one scene we see Crip gang members from "Crenshaw", which is in Inglewood, probably about 3 or 5 miles away from Compton.
Other than the opening scene where Eazy mentions "Greenleaf Blvd" and one scene at Compton Civic Center, I didn't get any idea that they were in the actual Compton but more so the symbolic Compton.
Greenleaf Blvd would mean nothing to no one other residents and/or than people paying very close attention to little details. We don't really get any introduction to what the street is or means, it's just a reference point known to the actors in the movie, but not the actual audience, and so Greenleaf Blvd could be Main Street USA or Vermont Ave. or Crenshaw Blvd.
I had to look up Skateland (one of the first venues we see NWA performing at) after watching the movie to locate any sense of place. The LA Times had a quick write-up of the place.
This is what Skateland looks like now (located on Central Ave. and 135th):
Jump Re-Starting the Conversation on Police Brutality
For a movie and group based on showing police brutality, the brutality and brutalizing by cops doesn't seem to actually take place in Compton aside from one incident. They rely on their experiences in Torrance, in some incidents at a home, their experience of seeing the Rodney King video.
The main reason I say that I'm glad that the movie exists to be a part of the conversation on police relations is that I don't think that blockbusters showing police doing wrong usually do this well in the box office or on television.
I guess like the movie because the topics it brings up represent an anomaly, packed with references to real-life events of police brutality that I think the American media-consuming public has seen and been seeing for the past five or so years.
When it comes to race relations and public perceptions of the police, doing some kind of police work is always portrayed with a positive upswing. On network television in particular, there's no shortage of cop shows portraying the complexities, emotional highs and lows of cops on network television. In the cinemas, the same thing. In fact, the big irony is that before we even saw this movie, they stuck in a promo for Ice Cube's comedy with Kevin Hart, in which he actually portrays a cop. It seems like that was stuck in there to foil the message of the biggest takeaway from the group and group's history.
I think the biggest takeaway from the movie is essentially the conditions of the 1990s with police departments staffed largely by outsiders, coming into a community, and dictating rules on their terms rather than community-defined terms.
I'm not sure to what extent that happens anymore. For me I haven't witnessed it happening.
As far as the actual experience of police here in Compton, the police (the LA County Sheriff's Department) have been pretty alright to me so far. What can I say? They come when our house alarm has gone off. When I call about a neighbor, they've responded, so far. They can speak Spanish, they seem like they can talk to people. I'm not sure what the history has been with them or "Compton Sheriff's Department" (as it would have been known in the 1980-1990ss) had been, but on first glance it just seems the departments are staffed by people actually more predisposed to being from and in the community rather than outside it.
The LAPD, the overarching bureaucratic police department that oversees LA (and does NOT include the city of Compton) seems to have changed a lot from the days of Darryl Gates and his "us-against-them" mentality. They have work to do, but still just like the Sherriff's Department it seems areas are staffed by people being from the community.
Thinking About Why Gang Tagging Still Exists on My Block
It's been another long summer, which on our block means one thing: tagging on the walls!
And it's not just some crews interested in tagging or doing artistic murals or anything --- it's gang tags, or kids representing a gang that has existed since the 1950s.
On Stop signs, you will see a "CANT" scribbled on top and below the "STOP", you will see the gang's name scribbled underneath, so that Stop Signs around the area read "Can't Stop [Gang Name here]"
This morning, I watched the graffiti team sandblast the gang-tagged walls along the street for probably it's thousandth time. It's the end of July but it's the first time I've seen them all Summer.
Its the first Summer where I've lived here and seen another gang combat the dominant one here.
The tagging has been a persistent nuisance, but I am told by neighbors who have lived here for 20+ years that there was a time when the sandblasters would be painting a wall and a tagger would be right behind them throwing up a tag just minutes after they had finished sandblasting the ball.
That's not the situation now.
But the Summer is when school is out. Presumably school kids are keeping the wall plastered with their hastily spray-painted insignias representing their gang.
My most immediate neighbors call the current crop of gang taggers "remnants" or "knuckleheads"; the ones who caused all the trouble in the 70s, 80s, and 90s are either dead or locked up.
I don't know any of the kids currently doing any of the tagging, but I was thinking deeply about why these kids (I presume that they have to be kids) felt such a need to continue tagging.
I think of Bambu's Old Man Raps.
I think about who in our neighborhood says anything if at all, and how we seem to let the tagging persist. I am glad that this appears to be the only issue that I see nowadays.
I realize that there are deeper issues than just tagging.
From my point of view, as an unconnected resident, but a kind of academic, I think it all comes down to individuals recognizing their place in the larger society as being permanently marginal.
'Permanently Marginal' in the sense their place in larger society can't actually change. But within their own place in society, they will try to make the best out of what they have (or perceive themselves to have).
Drinking, partying, threatening violence is what they have been, and where they will be. It's kind of immutable facts of life (which I wonder how much has changed in this age of media 2.0 and the omnipresence of the phones).
I try to imagine what materials and resources they own. I don't imagine most as home-owners, and I think they're barely making it, probably living with family members.
They probably don't own much other than their reputation, threats to violence, and their outward expressions on the wall. Their showing of vitality is reliant on vandalizing the public spaces.
The moment they let up their claim of our walls, stop signs, etc., public utilities, it's as if they have let others "win" while their gang has "lost."
I think that as long as their youth (and whomever their elders are) frame what they see as "their" walls, stop signs, public utilities as spaces to claim to show their gang's vitality, it will be an ongoing fight.
I just wish they'd take listen to a former gangbanger from Watts and re-direct their energies and vitalities to other life-building pursuits.
And it's not just some crews interested in tagging or doing artistic murals or anything --- it's gang tags, or kids representing a gang that has existed since the 1950s.
On Stop signs, you will see a "CANT" scribbled on top and below the "STOP", you will see the gang's name scribbled underneath, so that Stop Signs around the area read "Can't Stop [Gang Name here]"
This morning, I watched the graffiti team sandblast the gang-tagged walls along the street for probably it's thousandth time. It's the end of July but it's the first time I've seen them all Summer.
Its the first Summer where I've lived here and seen another gang combat the dominant one here.
The tagging has been a persistent nuisance, but I am told by neighbors who have lived here for 20+ years that there was a time when the sandblasters would be painting a wall and a tagger would be right behind them throwing up a tag just minutes after they had finished sandblasting the ball.
That's not the situation now.
But the Summer is when school is out. Presumably school kids are keeping the wall plastered with their hastily spray-painted insignias representing their gang.
My most immediate neighbors call the current crop of gang taggers "remnants" or "knuckleheads"; the ones who caused all the trouble in the 70s, 80s, and 90s are either dead or locked up.
I don't know any of the kids currently doing any of the tagging, but I was thinking deeply about why these kids (I presume that they have to be kids) felt such a need to continue tagging.
I think of Bambu's Old Man Raps.
I think about who in our neighborhood says anything if at all, and how we seem to let the tagging persist. I am glad that this appears to be the only issue that I see nowadays.
I realize that there are deeper issues than just tagging.
From my point of view, as an unconnected resident, but a kind of academic, I think it all comes down to individuals recognizing their place in the larger society as being permanently marginal.
'Permanently Marginal' in the sense their place in larger society can't actually change. But within their own place in society, they will try to make the best out of what they have (or perceive themselves to have).
Drinking, partying, threatening violence is what they have been, and where they will be. It's kind of immutable facts of life (which I wonder how much has changed in this age of media 2.0 and the omnipresence of the phones).
I try to imagine what materials and resources they own. I don't imagine most as home-owners, and I think they're barely making it, probably living with family members.
They probably don't own much other than their reputation, threats to violence, and their outward expressions on the wall. Their showing of vitality is reliant on vandalizing the public spaces.
The moment they let up their claim of our walls, stop signs, etc., public utilities, it's as if they have let others "win" while their gang has "lost."
I think that as long as their youth (and whomever their elders are) frame what they see as "their" walls, stop signs, public utilities as spaces to claim to show their gang's vitality, it will be an ongoing fight.
I just wish they'd take listen to a former gangbanger from Watts and re-direct their energies and vitalities to other life-building pursuits.
Now, Where to Bike for My Edamame?
Welp, I talked trash about the Fresh N' Easy here in Compton when I first got here, wishing instead for a Trader Joe's.
Probably the same odds as the Chicago Bulls getting the first pick in the 2008 NBA Draft which was 1.7%, which is to say, probably not a good chance.
Now it looks like the Fresh N' Easy chain is closing up a bunch of shops across the Southland. Kinda sad, as is any failure, but hopefully something better awaits.
The most notable things for me about the particular Central and Rosecrans Fresh N' Easy were that: 1) it was completely all self-check-out and 2) recently found that it was the only place to get edamame.
I don't know where unless I go outside of city limits to Gardena (for the Albertson's on Artesia, which I'm not completely sure has edamame) and/or Torrance (Trader Joe's).
Other than that, I did not find the selection that remarkable or radically different than what I could find across the street at Food4Less. I did not find that food was "fresh", as it appeared that a lot of the food came in packages. The fruit and vegetable section was not especially large --- it was just one other aisle on the south side of the store in addition to its numerous aisles.
Judging from the physical junk mail I get, the alternatives to getting Fresh Food are the aforementioned Food4Less, Ralph's, Superior, Payless Foods. I have no idea where people actually do groceries, though that would be an interesting survey.
The main takeaway for me is now that I know for sure that I have to DRIVE to get my edamame.
Probably the same odds as the Chicago Bulls getting the first pick in the 2008 NBA Draft which was 1.7%, which is to say, probably not a good chance.
Now it looks like the Fresh N' Easy chain is closing up a bunch of shops across the Southland. Kinda sad, as is any failure, but hopefully something better awaits.
The most notable things for me about the particular Central and Rosecrans Fresh N' Easy were that: 1) it was completely all self-check-out and 2) recently found that it was the only place to get edamame.
I don't know where unless I go outside of city limits to Gardena (for the Albertson's on Artesia, which I'm not completely sure has edamame) and/or Torrance (Trader Joe's).
Other than that, I did not find the selection that remarkable or radically different than what I could find across the street at Food4Less. I did not find that food was "fresh", as it appeared that a lot of the food came in packages. The fruit and vegetable section was not especially large --- it was just one other aisle on the south side of the store in addition to its numerous aisles.
Judging from the physical junk mail I get, the alternatives to getting Fresh Food are the aforementioned Food4Less, Ralph's, Superior, Payless Foods. I have no idea where people actually do groceries, though that would be an interesting survey.
The main takeaway for me is now that I know for sure that I have to DRIVE to get my edamame.
Being a Gentrifier in a Neighborhood with a Generational Gang?
The article (20 Ways Not to be a Gentrifier) struck a few nerves. I mean I agree and disagree with the sentiments, but I think the disagreements are worth noting.
Danette Lambert, the writer, argues that it isn't necessarily moving into the neighborhood that 'makes' you a 'gentrifier', it's what you do, which includes "ignoring the tastes and culture of the people living there.'
First off, I think labeling anyone a 'gentrifier' is always going to be destructive and divisive. I don't think anyone takes kindly to being labeled something negative. It's an advocacy article intended for an audience the writer doesn't write for, but actually written for and in the language of the writer's advocacy circle, framed as an 'objective' "how-to" article.
That said, I think I agree with the intention of the article which is to promote more behavior that builds community within a community. However, I don't think I'd take as much of a "do-this and this and this" patronizing type tone.
Aside from the patronizing tone, I don't know to what degree the advice is effective in all neighborhoods. I think that the advice from Lambert's article might work for a place already in full gentrification mode ala Highland Park, but I'm not sure if it works for a street with a gang on it.
As a middle-class raised person raised with an Anthropological lens, I fully agree that I shouldn't "ignore the tastes and culture of the people living there." I say hi to my next door neighbors, but saying that to anyone around the block sometimes yields a funny look.
The underlying issue is that there appears to be some real distrust here. Not only are the tags being kept alive by people, but every house still has a gate, and more often than not you'll find a big hulking pitbull to bark your ear off.
My next door neighbor has a fortress for a garage gate, which they open every morning before work and close every night after work. The only thing we know is that they throw some big parties in that fortress there, but they don't seem like a gang, though we can't be 100% sure.
I pointed out to my wife that I never see when people do their groceries, she said that people do their groceries at night so that no one sees what they have.
I feel like every house is their own little tribe.
Despite the distrust that appears to be apparent, I do recognize my neighbors as people. I do think I like to see the optimistic side of my neighbors.
I'm pretty cool with life here on the block, however, the existence of gang tagging and looming threat of violence hints at another question addressed towards, what to do about a gang culture that appears to be a part of the social fabric of your neighborhood?
I mean I would like to re-organize the enthusiasm gang members have for their gangs into something else. But it seems like any real solution will take some real work and time that would involve people wanting to change themselves rather than attempting to force a change.
Danette Lambert, the writer, argues that it isn't necessarily moving into the neighborhood that 'makes' you a 'gentrifier', it's what you do, which includes "ignoring the tastes and culture of the people living there.'
First off, I think labeling anyone a 'gentrifier' is always going to be destructive and divisive. I don't think anyone takes kindly to being labeled something negative. It's an advocacy article intended for an audience the writer doesn't write for, but actually written for and in the language of the writer's advocacy circle, framed as an 'objective' "how-to" article.
That said, I think I agree with the intention of the article which is to promote more behavior that builds community within a community. However, I don't think I'd take as much of a "do-this and this and this" patronizing type tone.
Aside from the patronizing tone, I don't know to what degree the advice is effective in all neighborhoods. I think that the advice from Lambert's article might work for a place already in full gentrification mode ala Highland Park, but I'm not sure if it works for a street with a gang on it.
As a middle-class raised person raised with an Anthropological lens, I fully agree that I shouldn't "ignore the tastes and culture of the people living there." I say hi to my next door neighbors, but saying that to anyone around the block sometimes yields a funny look.
The underlying issue is that there appears to be some real distrust here. Not only are the tags being kept alive by people, but every house still has a gate, and more often than not you'll find a big hulking pitbull to bark your ear off.
My next door neighbor has a fortress for a garage gate, which they open every morning before work and close every night after work. The only thing we know is that they throw some big parties in that fortress there, but they don't seem like a gang, though we can't be 100% sure.
I pointed out to my wife that I never see when people do their groceries, she said that people do their groceries at night so that no one sees what they have.
I feel like every house is their own little tribe.
Despite the distrust that appears to be apparent, I do recognize my neighbors as people. I do think I like to see the optimistic side of my neighbors.
I'm pretty cool with life here on the block, however, the existence of gang tagging and looming threat of violence hints at another question addressed towards, what to do about a gang culture that appears to be a part of the social fabric of your neighborhood?
I mean I would like to re-organize the enthusiasm gang members have for their gangs into something else. But it seems like any real solution will take some real work and time that would involve people wanting to change themselves rather than attempting to force a change.
A Day in the Life of a Comptonite - Sunday - 2-8-2015
I guess this type of blog is for the person outside of Compton; essentially my life here in Compton is pretty mellow for the most part, and a part of me wants to show the mellowness, the mundane-ness of life here partly as a counter-image/narrative to the dominant narrative/image of gangsta rap hardness.
I feel like life here is like life anywhere in the US; we all live in mini-tribes called our households, occasionally re-unite with people mostly through internet or phone communications and/or physically driving to actually be with those people.
To show how life can be mundane (or not), I kept times and activities of yesterday, a Sunday.
A Sunday Morning in February. Not cloudy. A bit sunny. Typical LA Winter, except for the whole kind of in a drought thing.
On my academic mind, the day before on NPR TED there was a podcast about how violence can be almost epidemic. That is the patterns of violence can resemble patterns of epidemics. If violence affects someone, that someone can be tempted to spread the pain felt from that violence onto others.
On my mind that thinks about every day survival, I wonder how I'm going to make enough money to support a g-dang fam, especially with the Sunday that we just had.
It appears this Sunday was a shopping Sunday, and we didn't spend much time at home at all until later in the day, which is typical.
7:15 AM: Woke up. Late, because I'd actually been up till 2:30 AM.
7:45 AM: Pulled out of driveway on our journey to Kaiser Permanente in Harbor City. We go up Central to the 91, to the 110 South. Traffic's pleasantly light as it typically is for early Sunday morning.
8:05 AM: Get to Kaiser for quick lab work.
8:11 AM: Done with Kaiser lab work. We get in the car on way to our sweet hipster morning treat, 85 degrees in Gardena along Artesia Blvd in a plaza with an Asian supermarket, Daiso Japan, and McDonalds.
8:24 AM: Get to 85 Degrees. Slightly annoyed by the tightness of the parking lot combined with the fact that cars are always passing through, making it difficult to back out.
8:40 AM: After marveling at the selection of sweet breads, gathering selected ones, standing in a line for 5 minutes, we finally pay for our loot at 85 Degrees.
8:43 AM: Depart the 85 Degrees/plaza parking lot.
8:51 AM: Neighbor offers us an avocado, 2 big ones for $1 dollar.
9:25 AM: Teacher arrives at our house and we begin classes. Shocked that she could find parking on the block. Serve her up some 85 Degrees.
11:30 AM: Another neighbor has workers do yard work with very loud machinery, which kind of distracts us from our class with the teacher.
12:30 PM: Lessons with teacher finish.
1:45 PM: Leave to buy stuff from Costco in Torrance on Rosecrans.
2:15 PM: It's actually Lowe's in Inglewood that we end up going to.
2:35 PM: End up at Ross next to Lowe's.
3:01 PM: Leave for Costco on Rosecrans.
3:10 PM: End up at Costco, get annoyed at all the traffic and people we have to fight through.
3:50 PM: Exit Costco, only for wife to tell me that were going to Babies R Us, about 4 minutes away.
4:49 PM: Get home, finally. Day pretty much ends in front of the TV and respective computers as the wife gets ready for work for the next day.
All in all a fairly quiet day in the neighborhood, at least the time we were here at home.
I feel like life here is like life anywhere in the US; we all live in mini-tribes called our households, occasionally re-unite with people mostly through internet or phone communications and/or physically driving to actually be with those people.
To show how life can be mundane (or not), I kept times and activities of yesterday, a Sunday.
A Sunday Morning in February. Not cloudy. A bit sunny. Typical LA Winter, except for the whole kind of in a drought thing.
On my academic mind, the day before on NPR TED there was a podcast about how violence can be almost epidemic. That is the patterns of violence can resemble patterns of epidemics. If violence affects someone, that someone can be tempted to spread the pain felt from that violence onto others.
On my mind that thinks about every day survival, I wonder how I'm going to make enough money to support a g-dang fam, especially with the Sunday that we just had.
It appears this Sunday was a shopping Sunday, and we didn't spend much time at home at all until later in the day, which is typical.
7:15 AM: Woke up. Late, because I'd actually been up till 2:30 AM.
7:45 AM: Pulled out of driveway on our journey to Kaiser Permanente in Harbor City. We go up Central to the 91, to the 110 South. Traffic's pleasantly light as it typically is for early Sunday morning.
8:05 AM: Get to Kaiser for quick lab work.
8:11 AM: Done with Kaiser lab work. We get in the car on way to our sweet hipster morning treat, 85 degrees in Gardena along Artesia Blvd in a plaza with an Asian supermarket, Daiso Japan, and McDonalds.
8:24 AM: Get to 85 Degrees. Slightly annoyed by the tightness of the parking lot combined with the fact that cars are always passing through, making it difficult to back out.
8:40 AM: After marveling at the selection of sweet breads, gathering selected ones, standing in a line for 5 minutes, we finally pay for our loot at 85 Degrees.
8:43 AM: Depart the 85 Degrees/plaza parking lot.
8:51 AM: Neighbor offers us an avocado, 2 big ones for $1 dollar.
9:25 AM: Teacher arrives at our house and we begin classes. Shocked that she could find parking on the block. Serve her up some 85 Degrees.
11:30 AM: Another neighbor has workers do yard work with very loud machinery, which kind of distracts us from our class with the teacher.
12:30 PM: Lessons with teacher finish.
1:45 PM: Leave to buy stuff from Costco in Torrance on Rosecrans.
2:15 PM: It's actually Lowe's in Inglewood that we end up going to.
2:35 PM: End up at Ross next to Lowe's.
3:01 PM: Leave for Costco on Rosecrans.
3:10 PM: End up at Costco, get annoyed at all the traffic and people we have to fight through.
3:50 PM: Exit Costco, only for wife to tell me that were going to Babies R Us, about 4 minutes away.
4:49 PM: Get home, finally. Day pretty much ends in front of the TV and respective computers as the wife gets ready for work for the next day.
All in all a fairly quiet day in the neighborhood, at least the time we were here at home.
Cars as Weapons and Worrying About Bike Safety
Maybe it's my age, or maybe it's because I've been getting rear-ended more than I like, but I am increasingly hating driving.
It was only yesterday about say 15 or 16 years ago that I could not wait to get behind the wheel. Now, it's just draining.
Yesterday, I ran into an old high school classmate in Marina Del Rey who also expressed his hatred for driving LA's freeways. Though he was wearing a plain LA shirt, he expressed his own desire to move to Colorado or elsewhere.
Traffic can get that bad, and THAT draining.
Yesterday, there were two separate car incidents in two different parts of LA County that strike close to places that I travel through fairly often on bike: 1) a car crash in Wilmington three blocks from Banning High School on Pacific Coast Highway, and 2) a Suge Knight hit and run in Compton on Central and Rosecrans Avenue at the South LA-ubiquitous burger chain Tam's Burgers.
These incidents underscore a basic fact: the car can be a very dangerous weapon. Each of these incidents killed people.
In the first incident, the driver of the car lost control of a car and ended up driving on the wrong side of the road. They smashed into a rideshare van, which unharmed the van, but instead killed two people driving that car. According to one of my friends who knew them, that car was souped up and the driver couldn't quite handle it.
In the second 'incident', after arguing on set for the biopic "Straight Outta Compton", Suge Knight followed some guys to the burger joint, ran them over and backed up. One of the men suffered injuries and the other died. Suge has been charged with murder.
This is why I'm always looking over my shoulder when I bike --- I just never know when someone is going to lose control of their car, or if someone in their rage is going to use his car to do something harmful.
Though Suge Knight's use of the car was probably intentionally directed at pedestrians, I was wondering about bike safety in the neighborhood in general.
Incidentally, I was headed towards Rosecrans and Central on 1/28 and managed to get some video.
I titled the video: would you let your kids bike this? Or something to that effect.
Why would I title it that?
In less than a month, I'm going to be a dad. Yep. Crazy, crazy, crazy ish.
However, I'm probably not the first ever to come up with an idea or with the sentiment to inspire more bike safety for the sake of their kids. Apologies to whoever is on the front line and doing the dang deeds.
In the same way that I wondered how I could ensure bicycle safety for my little sister, and my mother, I've been wondering how I'm going to carry the baby while biking.
While Central Avenue in Compton has a bike lane, and I as a lone bicyclist feel somewhat safe, I really wouldn't like the idea of biking with a trailer.
But maybe that's just me being chicken.
Measuring Bike Safety: Indicator "Species" Counts
I think part of the reason I would not feel safe is because there's really no protection for my baby and me if something were to happen. I simply would not want to take any chances.
That in mind, I keep thinking about how our spaces cater to the most vulnerable people. Most often I don't think they do. "Vulnerable people" being the elderly, the handicapped, the very young, and women of all ages.
Another confession: part of my job includes counting pedestrians and bicycles at intersections for engineering companies. The way we count bikes is pretty basic; we just count them the way we would count cars with our specific handheld machines.
While I know that the bike advocacy organizations have been on top of counting every demographic on a bicycle during their own volunteer-run counts, in my field, the work with traffic engineering firms, we often we don't take note of whether they are on the sidewalk, and/or gender.
Why would noting gender be important?
Women simply don't want to be anywhere where they'll be catcalled, harassed, or simply taken advantage of. It's something as an able-bodied man that I have the privilege of not knowing.
Just as has been posted that the presence of women in a public space indicates a place's safety, I think that line of thinking can be extended to bike infrastructure. In a closed structure where biking is somewhat more protected, like a bike path, you will see a lot more women. On any given street, however, if you see anyone, you'll likely see guys. I think it's important to note just because it can help explain why some use a space, and why some don't.
On occasion, a client will ask us to make a differentiation of pedestrians and bicyclists, and a person counting will note whether they are adults or children, but that's the extent of our classification counts when it comes to bicyclists.
I think some helpful things to start counting: women on bikes, women pedestrians, bikes with child trailers, bikes on sidewalks vs. bikes on streets, people on wheelchairs (motorized and manual), people on skateboards
In short, I'd hope that engineers in particular start calling for new ways to measure bike safety, and call my company on it so I can keep having a job.
It was only yesterday about say 15 or 16 years ago that I could not wait to get behind the wheel. Now, it's just draining.
Yesterday, I ran into an old high school classmate in Marina Del Rey who also expressed his hatred for driving LA's freeways. Though he was wearing a plain LA shirt, he expressed his own desire to move to Colorado or elsewhere.
Traffic can get that bad, and THAT draining.
Yesterday, there were two separate car incidents in two different parts of LA County that strike close to places that I travel through fairly often on bike: 1) a car crash in Wilmington three blocks from Banning High School on Pacific Coast Highway, and 2) a Suge Knight hit and run in Compton on Central and Rosecrans Avenue at the South LA-ubiquitous burger chain Tam's Burgers.
These incidents underscore a basic fact: the car can be a very dangerous weapon. Each of these incidents killed people.
In the first incident, the driver of the car lost control of a car and ended up driving on the wrong side of the road. They smashed into a rideshare van, which unharmed the van, but instead killed two people driving that car. According to one of my friends who knew them, that car was souped up and the driver couldn't quite handle it.
In the second 'incident', after arguing on set for the biopic "Straight Outta Compton", Suge Knight followed some guys to the burger joint, ran them over and backed up. One of the men suffered injuries and the other died. Suge has been charged with murder.
This is why I'm always looking over my shoulder when I bike --- I just never know when someone is going to lose control of their car, or if someone in their rage is going to use his car to do something harmful.
* * *
Getting Worried about Bike Safety HereThough Suge Knight's use of the car was probably intentionally directed at pedestrians, I was wondering about bike safety in the neighborhood in general.
Incidentally, I was headed towards Rosecrans and Central on 1/28 and managed to get some video.
I titled the video: would you let your kids bike this? Or something to that effect.
Why would I title it that?
In less than a month, I'm going to be a dad. Yep. Crazy, crazy, crazy ish.
However, I'm probably not the first ever to come up with an idea or with the sentiment to inspire more bike safety for the sake of their kids. Apologies to whoever is on the front line and doing the dang deeds.
In the same way that I wondered how I could ensure bicycle safety for my little sister, and my mother, I've been wondering how I'm going to carry the baby while biking.
While Central Avenue in Compton has a bike lane, and I as a lone bicyclist feel somewhat safe, I really wouldn't like the idea of biking with a trailer.
But maybe that's just me being chicken.
* * *
Measuring Bike Safety: Indicator "Species" Counts
I think part of the reason I would not feel safe is because there's really no protection for my baby and me if something were to happen. I simply would not want to take any chances.
That in mind, I keep thinking about how our spaces cater to the most vulnerable people. Most often I don't think they do. "Vulnerable people" being the elderly, the handicapped, the very young, and women of all ages.
Another confession: part of my job includes counting pedestrians and bicycles at intersections for engineering companies. The way we count bikes is pretty basic; we just count them the way we would count cars with our specific handheld machines.
While I know that the bike advocacy organizations have been on top of counting every demographic on a bicycle during their own volunteer-run counts, in my field, the work with traffic engineering firms, we often we don't take note of whether they are on the sidewalk, and/or gender.
Why would noting gender be important?
Women simply don't want to be anywhere where they'll be catcalled, harassed, or simply taken advantage of. It's something as an able-bodied man that I have the privilege of not knowing.
Just as has been posted that the presence of women in a public space indicates a place's safety, I think that line of thinking can be extended to bike infrastructure. In a closed structure where biking is somewhat more protected, like a bike path, you will see a lot more women. On any given street, however, if you see anyone, you'll likely see guys. I think it's important to note just because it can help explain why some use a space, and why some don't.
On occasion, a client will ask us to make a differentiation of pedestrians and bicyclists, and a person counting will note whether they are adults or children, but that's the extent of our classification counts when it comes to bicyclists.
I think some helpful things to start counting: women on bikes, women pedestrians, bikes with child trailers, bikes on sidewalks vs. bikes on streets, people on wheelchairs (motorized and manual), people on skateboards
In short, I'd hope that engineers in particular start calling for new ways to measure bike safety, and call my company on it so I can keep having a job.
An Offering for Gangs that Tag - Journalling Compton, Saturday, Jan 24, 2015
I've tried to do this before, last year.
I tried to talk about news in Compton, but I realized that the effort involved in researching news takes away from time spent doing other things. If there are news stories, I will link them, but only if I hear about them, usually from news consumed from KPCC or local television.
The most I could commit to is to journal about my own experience here.
Every day I'm here Compton.
West Compton to be exact.
It's home to the point where even after spending whole days in white affluent neighborhoods such as Malibu, Thousand Oaks, or Agoura Hills, it still feels good to see the Food4Less on Rosecrans and Central and being reminded that I'm almost home.
I haven't posted a ton about gangs specifically in my posts about Compton, because I'm not "in the know." But the tagging around the area lets us know that they're around. Otherwise I've been left alone so far --- I don't know how true that would be if I were a middle school kid at one of the schools or a teenager today.
I think that all across LA County, statistically, gang violence has not been as crazy since the 1990s.
From my readings of the Homicide Report, I think most violence is not "random" unless in the act of robbery. However, I live with the fear that we could get caught in crossfire. My saddest thought is that while our families would be in a world of hurt, the outside world that might happen on an obituary would probably dismiss it as another Compton story.
#Comptonlivesmatter
One Offering for Gangs that Tag
We've been left alone. I think that's awesome, and pretty much the most I could ask for at the current moment given the chaotic past.
From what I can see the only thing that doesn't suffer any outward physical neglect are the walls along the street, which are technically not "public space", but public in the sense that they frame the streets on which we walk.
Either the gangs tag them with their symbolic letters and numbers and/or someone whitewashes them. It's a back-and-forth that doesn't really have any indication of stopping.
On one hand, whenever I see a fresh tag, usually after a rainy day, I really just get tired. My thoughts are "what the fuck? And why?"To me it's like shitting where you eat, unless of course you don't live here. Why would you want to make the place where you live look shitty with your shitty ass tags?
On the other, my more holistic, Anthropological side tries to understand "what the fuck", and "why" --- probably because this activity defines them and establishes their symbolic if not real clout in the neighborhood. It's something that they've got to keep up, perhaps from tradition --- I don't know I think some traditions need to transform.
I truly wish there was something I could offer these folks that I'd want to actually give away.
That I'm thinking about is basically becoming a Father Greg Boyle, opening up a Homeboy Industries, somewhere here, hooking people up with jobs here and there. His modus operandi is "Nothing stops a bullet like a job"
If gangsters ever happen on this blog, I don't have jobs or anything to offer at the moment. I just have this. Please consider:
The Speech:
I tried to talk about news in Compton, but I realized that the effort involved in researching news takes away from time spent doing other things. If there are news stories, I will link them, but only if I hear about them, usually from news consumed from KPCC or local television.
The most I could commit to is to journal about my own experience here.
Every day I'm here Compton.
West Compton to be exact.
It's home to the point where even after spending whole days in white affluent neighborhoods such as Malibu, Thousand Oaks, or Agoura Hills, it still feels good to see the Food4Less on Rosecrans and Central and being reminded that I'm almost home.
* * *
About gangs. I haven't posted a ton about gangs specifically in my posts about Compton, because I'm not "in the know." But the tagging around the area lets us know that they're around. Otherwise I've been left alone so far --- I don't know how true that would be if I were a middle school kid at one of the schools or a teenager today.
I think that all across LA County, statistically, gang violence has not been as crazy since the 1990s.
From my readings of the Homicide Report, I think most violence is not "random" unless in the act of robbery. However, I live with the fear that we could get caught in crossfire. My saddest thought is that while our families would be in a world of hurt, the outside world that might happen on an obituary would probably dismiss it as another Compton story.
#Comptonlivesmatter
* * *
One Offering for Gangs that Tag
We've been left alone. I think that's awesome, and pretty much the most I could ask for at the current moment given the chaotic past.
From what I can see the only thing that doesn't suffer any outward physical neglect are the walls along the street, which are technically not "public space", but public in the sense that they frame the streets on which we walk.
Either the gangs tag them with their symbolic letters and numbers and/or someone whitewashes them. It's a back-and-forth that doesn't really have any indication of stopping.
On one hand, whenever I see a fresh tag, usually after a rainy day, I really just get tired. My thoughts are "what the fuck? And why?"To me it's like shitting where you eat, unless of course you don't live here. Why would you want to make the place where you live look shitty with your shitty ass tags?
On the other, my more holistic, Anthropological side tries to understand "what the fuck", and "why" --- probably because this activity defines them and establishes their symbolic if not real clout in the neighborhood. It's something that they've got to keep up, perhaps from tradition --- I don't know I think some traditions need to transform.
I truly wish there was something I could offer these folks that I'd want to actually give away.
That I'm thinking about is basically becoming a Father Greg Boyle, opening up a Homeboy Industries, somewhere here, hooking people up with jobs here and there. His modus operandi is "Nothing stops a bullet like a job"
If gangsters ever happen on this blog, I don't have jobs or anything to offer at the moment. I just have this. Please consider:
The Speech:
I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be an emperor. That’s not my business. I don’t want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone - if possible - Jew, Gentile - black man - white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness - not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone. And the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way.
Greed has poisoned men’s souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost....
The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men - cries out for universal brotherhood - for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world - millions of despairing men, women, and little children - victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people.
To those who can hear me, I say - do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed - the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish. .....
Soldiers! don’t give yourselves to brutes - men who despise you - enslave you - who regiment your lives - tell you what to do - what to think and what to feel! Who drill you - diet you - treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don’t give yourselves to these unnatural men - machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men!
You have the love of humanity in your hearts! You don’t hate! Only the unloved hate - the unloved and the unnatural!
Soldiers! Don’t fight for slavery! Fight for liberty!
In the 17th Chapter of St Luke it is written: “the Kingdom of God is within man” - not one man nor a group of men, but in all men! In you! You, the people have the power - the power to create machines. The power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure.
Then - in the name of democracy - let us use that power - let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world - a decent world that will give men a chance to work - that will give youth a future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power. But they lie! They do not fulfill that promise. They never will!
Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people! Now let us fight to fulfil that promise! Let us fight to free the world - to do away with national barriers - to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men’s happiness. Soldiers! in the name of democracy, let us all unite! - The Great Dictator's Speech
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