As a young outspoken woman, I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been expected to qualify my opinion to be more palatable to those who come from a more privileged position. I can’t tell you how many variations of “not all ____” (usually men) I’ve heard. I can’t tell you how many times people have told me that their allyship was contingent on minority members making them (members of a privileged group) feel comfortable and welcome.
As soon as I found out I would be spending a year in Chicago and started to share that news with friends and family, the concerned comments began rolling in. Both covertly and overtly, well-meaning people would question how safe I would be moving to Chicago by myself. Even once I moved here, I continued to encounter this concern from other Chicago residents when I would tell them what neighborhood I live in. A quick Google search reveals startling crime statistics and discussion boards as to whether or not East Garfield Park is really “safe.” The consensus seems to be that it’s better to just give that neighborhood a miss, especially at night (I believe people may be confusing perceived criminals with vampires here).
Along with Austin (where I work), Englewood, Auburn Gresham and other high crime areas, reducing these locations and this city merely to a “war zone” with “people being shot left and right” (looking at you, 45) completely ignores the context of why and how the current situation came to be. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not dodging bullets every time I walk out the front door. In all honesty, the single biggest threat to my personal safety are the stairs in my house here, but that’s more a factor of my own natural gracefulness, not the city I live in.
But let’s put our sociologist hats on for a moment and look critically at Chicago. Continue reading
Since moving to Chicago, I’ve participated in many marches and rallies downtown to raise awareness of various causes and show solidarity with minority groups. I’ve also called, emailed, written to, and faxed my representatives back home in Texas about issues near and dear to my heart. I’ve shared many of this efforts on Facebook, with most responses showing support for my efforts. However, there’s also some who believe that it’s a waste of my time to try and challenge my representatives to be better at actually representing ALL of their constituents. Basically the mindset boils down to the fact that they believe what I’m doing isn’t going to make a difference, and that I should just accept the status quo. Continue reading
“hey baby damn you are so gorgeous why don’t you smile more sup beautiful such a pretty smile but really, so gorgeous mm hey what’s your name hey can I get your number hey can I take you out sometime hey lemme talk to you real quick hey it’s rude to ignore people when they’re talking to you hey you should thank him for holding that bus for you we just want to talk to you don’t be scared he doesn’t bite”
This is not the blog post I was going to write this week. I have a wordy and heavily sourced post challenging the prevailing myth of Chicago as warzone, and it’s still coming, don’t worry. But after running yet another gauntlet of catcalls while just trying to catch a bus home after a crappy day, I had to write down something. Continue reading
I figure if I rant about something more than twice in a week, it probably deserves a blog post, so here we are. Let’s talk about donating. In much of my work with nonprofits serving individuals experiencing poverty and homelessness, we rely pretty heavily on donated items to provide services for our clients. I am continually baffled at what some I’m sure well-meaning people think is okay to donate. Expired or almost expired food, half used toiletries, ratty or dirty old clothing, broken toys. It’s as if donating to charities or nonprofits is the morally acceptable alternative to just throwing out your garbage, a way for you to simultaneously clean out the back of your pantry or closet and pat yourself on the back.
When people must rely on donated clothing and food, it’s because they have nowhere else to go. It’s very difficult to break out of the cycle of poverty when you’re not sure where your next meal is coming from. In much of the rhetoric surrounding poverty and homelessness, this often gets twisted into people looking for free handouts, looking to get something for nothing. Perhaps this is part of why people think it’s okay to donate junk – they’ve accomplished their good deed for the day and haven’t enabled the mooching behavior they so fear. The myth of the “welfare queen” is so harmful and pervasive, and so unsubstantiated if you really get into the numbers of who relies on government or nonprofit assistance and why, but that’s a blog post (or possibly an entire paper) for another time. Continue reading
Today, it rained. While waiting for my second bus on my way to work, I had ample time to reflect “wow, this sucks.” My bus stop had no tree or shelter to hide from the rain under. I stood next to the sign, grumbling under my breath, shoulders hunched up under my rain jacket, convinced that this was the first sign of a bad day to come. Unsurprisingly, this train of thought neither stopped the rain nor summoned the bus any faster. This may come as a shock, but I’m not an especially patient person, and waiting for the bus to arrive is a daily test of that. Continue reading
Alternative title: how I wrote a blog post on my phone on the way to the airport at 2:30 in the morning to fly to Chicago
In 2009 or 2010 I attended a high school youth event for a weekend called Senior High Youth Connection (SHYC). I’m going to be honest, I don’t remember too many specifics from that event anymore. I couldn’t tell you who the keynote speaker was (although I’m sure some Presbyterian friend might be able to – the Presby world is a small one), who was in my small group or even who came with me from my home church. The theme of that weekend, though, has remained in the back of my mind ever since: mountain top living for valley dwellers. Continue reading
With my days left in Texas rapidly approaching single digits, I figured I should update my blog. All summer, I’ve been getting the same questions, both from familiar faces and relative strangers: “What comes next?”, shortly followed by “Why Chicago?”. The title of this post was a (fair) question I received from the woman cutting my hair a few weeks ago, but I feel it rather sums up many of the discussions I’ve had. Continue reading
Welcome to my blog! Here is where I will be sharing updates and stories for my upcoming year serving as a Young Adult Volunteer (YAV) through the Presbyterian Church (USA) [PC(USA)]. Beginning this August, I am excited to begin serving in Chicago, Illinois! This program emerges out of DOOR’s (Discovering Opportunities for Outreach and Reflection) partnerships with Mennonite Mission Network and the aforementioned YAV program. In this post, I hope to answer some questions you may have about my time in Chicago. Continue reading