I read this article, which was published by the Times in April in this series looking back at the LA riots of 1992, twenty years later. It's important in light of the axes of difference that we've been studying in class, and also in the context of my own life as an educator of young people who, like myself, didn't live through the riots. This article brings up a lot of the problems with the public school system, but only indirectly and in the context of educating students about the riots. Teaching students about the 1992 riots is difficult because state standards don't mandate it and history curriculums are quite full without it--generally only reaching the civil rights movement in the 1960s or perhaps the Nixon administration in the 70s. However, students who have learned about the riots understand how they came about, see that some of those problems still exist in their city, and want to do something about it: "these teenagers also express hope that they can make a difference through personal action — education about stereotypes, for instance, or peaceful protests." The fact that kids who learn about the riots have the motivation to do something with their new knowledge is valuable beyond the classroom. When racial, financial, and cultural boundaries divide people sharply enough, you get the 1992 riots. When students--the younger, more impressionable generations--are willing to change and to work for change in others, you have a real chance for a better future on your hands. In denying students the opportunity to learn about the riots because of the need to focus more on state testing, what other opportunities are they losing? The article's subtle focus on the negatives of standardized testing make me think of our discussions of neo-liberalism. While compulsory education is likely not something that neo-liberals are necessarily fans of, cutbacks to education and and a system of standardized testing used to determine where the cutbacks should "naturally" fall does. I can't help but wonder if the neo-liberal attitudes of the 80s and 90s are residually affecting our public schools and their funding today. Some other cool stuff in memory of the '92 riots:
This week, I'm writing about Mitchell Beacom's Week Two blog post. He chose to go to Compton, which I respect after seeing few people branch out that far from the Westwood bubble.
First off, this post was great in its exploration of Durkheim's understanding of differentiation in the context of an infamously low-income, high-crime neighborhood. Having been through Compton on the bus, I've been able to check out the visual exterior of the area but never the inside of one of the businesses. I'm impressed with the information he gathered by actually visiting a resident of the neighborhood and checkin gout his living room! (And let's be real--who wouldn't be impressed by a purple shag carpet and gold stripper pole... in the home?) I really enjoyed reading about his conversation with this middle-aged man who was Compton born and raised.
Now that we've read and learned a lot more (seeing as this post was from second week, Durkheim was really the only lens for analysis), I'd like to take another perspective on his post. After reading Elliot and Pais's study on race and class in Hurricane Katrina and learning a little bit more about race from Stuart Hall, I think the "racial" aspect of Compton that looms so unavoidably in discussions of the area is important to his experience. He discusses the man's living room decor as "a clear sign of cultural differentiation," and I find that assessment true. Other people, however, would make arguments about the man's race and social class as they impact his decor choices. Those could also be valid, but the fact that they have to be made irritates me. Some people, upon hearing his story, would laugh and say "only a BLACK guy would have a purple rug AND a gold stripper pole IN HIS HOUSE" (read: things my roommates say). To me, however, his choices are minimally impacted by his race. The culture he grew up in, which admittedly was probably at some point racially determined, has much more of an impact on that choice than his skin color. A Nigerian immigrant to America would be as unlikely to match those two things together as one from Taiwan or Peru or Ireland--so this man's choice was much more likely influenced by his culture and not by his race.
Thomas's video posts were helpful in his post because they underscored the cultural idea over the racial one. He demonstrated that Compton has a very unique and very strong culture that includes unsavory aspects like gang violence, and he showed us the way in which that culture is propagated. Overall, I found his post valuable for its insight into the life of a resident of the area he observed and I think his observations and conclusions apply to lessons learned in class beyond the limits of our early readings.
Cheers!
Amy
UPDATE 12/9: Woops! Didn't realize until today that I should have posted it on the original blog. Fixed!
Today I'm writing about Thomas Schulz's Week Five blog post on Los Feliz. He did a really great job describing the location--now I want to go, and I'd never even heard of it!
I found it interesting that he compared Los Feliz--and affluent neighborhood near Hollywood--to other, showier neighborhoods while also considering how it related to poorer areas. His thoughts on the exclusivity of places like Rodeo Drive were valuable because the correlation he draws between that exclusivity and the lack of sidewalk-walkers is very accurate. His analysis of the hair salon "juan juan" and it's nature as an "escape" related well to this point and provided a nice, flushed-out example. I also can't help but be partial to this post, as he was in pursuit of a friendly, walkable neighborhood and there's nothing I like better! (And nothing, it seems, that's rather down here in Los Angeles and Orange County.)
I'd like to add to his post, however, with the knowledge we now have about the environmental justice movement. He addresses Jane Jacobs' book and her theory that bustling sidewalks are equate to lower crime rates, and he argues that he theory seems correct--the busy sidewalks in Los Feliz feel safe, as opposed to the empty late-night streets in an area like Rodeo, where shader characters know there won't be as many eyes on them. I agree, and I'd like to apply his thoughts to poorer areas rather than wealthier ones.
What if people avoided the sidewalks because they avoided the outdoors in general? What if the air quality near your home was polluted by an oil refinery or incinerator? What if the city blocks that could be filled with small businesses and restaurants were instead occupied by a power plant and its fumes? The environmental justice issues at hand in these neighborhoods go beyond just environmental quality--they can also affect the residents' quality of life. If ambiance is one of the key factors in attracting business to a neighborhood, then these areas are at a serious economic disadvantage, too. And who knows what else their environmental problems could stop them from getting the opportunity to do or experience!
Things to think about, when you extrapolate a subject into another neighborhood,
Cheers!
Amy
UPDATE 12/9: Woops! Didn't realize until today that I should have posted it on the original blog. Fixed!
Today I'm writing a response to Monika H.'s Week Four blog post. She and I are quite different, because I'm a regular on the bus because of my volunteer work/adventures and she was a relatively new bus rider. As such, I found her post quite interesting, because it gave me some perspective on what I consider "normal"--shouting match between the bus driver and a biker? Whatevuh!
She got me thinking, though, about what it means to commute on the bus and tolerate the shenanigans of those riding it. This week's reading is about all about "quiet" racism and continued segregation, and car ownership begins to feel like unintentional economic segregation--those who have enough for a car, gas, registration and maintenance segregate themselves from those who don't buy buying one and using as transportation space that no one else can share without their permission. People without the that financial option are forced to take public transit, which they have to share with whoever else chooses to use their right to ride it.
So while I understand her discomfort, I also think she could have done more to analyze her situation and those of the other bus riders. Why did they act like they do? Why do buses have the reputation for "horror stories," as she says? I think her post would benefit from a consideration of the reasons behind why her bus trip was the way it was--she's offered us a lot of valid information, but doesn't go quite deep enough into the motivations behind her observations. The observations themselves, though, are great!
I can't deny that I like creepy/cute/gross/awkward bus stories as much as the next guy, though, so here are some links for further... consideration:
Awkward Transit. Only the best in awkward transit moments, mined from around the country. A personal favorite... this guy:
And don't forget these guys, killin' it every day in ridiculous and very public stunts:
May your public transit be awkward and internet-uploadable!
Cheers,
Amy
UPDATE 12/9: Woops! Didn't realize until today that I should have posted it on the original blog. Fixed!
Take a look at this video by the RSA (the Royal Society for the encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce) and Sir Ken Robinson to get an idea of how the "management" of the proletariat during the Industrial Revolution impacted the way schools were, and are, run. Robinson understands where our current education system came from, and also knows why it's a problem. More than that, though, he offers solutions--or at least ideas--to get us thinking about they way we educate our children.
Everyone knows where Downtown LA is, to a certain extent. But "Downtown" hardly fills the traditional roll of the downtown area of a major city. Sure, it has a nice skyline...
But so does Century City:
And Westwood:
So the traditional theory that "downtown" lines up with the skyscrapers doesn't hold true here, like it does with the Financial District in San Francisco. As far as downtowns go, LA's is hardly the focal point of the city. So much so, in fact, that I had never been there until this week, when I went to an LA Times event about their Information Desk. It turns out that their offices are smack in the middle of Downtown, so I dressed up and hopped on the bus to visit this part of the city for the first time. Here's how I got there:
The 720 again! Who would've thought I'd be on it twice in two weeks?
My 720 experience was much the same as last time, except that it was daylight, I had a purse, and I was dressed in business casual... so the same, excepting for the exponentially increases number of quizzical stares. Apparently, I'm not the sort of commuter a lot of these people were familiar with. I got off at Vermont and got on the Metro Red Line, so I couldn't see where I was going any more.
And here, I'd like to point out one of the misconceptions I had about Downtown. I'd been told all these horror stories about how "ghetto" it was, and read all these articles about the riots and schools and locked parking garages, so my expectations were very low. I was kind of expecting the Oakland of LA (because honestly, walking through Oakland makes me feel infinitely more vulnerable than walking through South Central or Compton).
What I saw when I got off the Metro, the surrounding view was nothing like I expected.
There were tall buildings. Clean sidewalks. Parks. A few small restaurants--too few for a place where people walk to work, but enough for people who drive.
It was just city-like, in a way that shocked me. I felt like it was in an under-populated San Francisco. It felt normal, in a way that most of LA doesn't feel normal to me. It also felt genuinely urban, unlike the relatively un-diverse skyscraper areas on the Westside. I was really surprised, and really happy that I'd accidentally left about an hour too early--time to explore!
I got to eat some good food, hang out in a park, and check out some of the area's great architecture. I was so happy about the whole experience--and then curious. Why would people from the Westside hate on Downtown so much? What about this could be distasteful to them?
Looking back at my post from last week, I realize that racism may be one of the reasons why people are hesitant about going Downtown--the racial diversity is undeniable. The historical mark left by the riots is, too. So while those are both excuses, they just didn't seem to explain the anti-Downtown bias I felt before I saw it. And then I realized why I liked Downtown so much: it felt like a "real" city, a city with a center, a city with diversity, a city with green space. It felt planned, and it felt a little unpredictable. And that's not what most people from LA know to be a city. They know Los Angeles--the big, sprawling, decentralized, semi-"postsuburban,"individualized "city" made up of a hundred other areas that could be cities and towns on their own. Having grown up right near San Francisco, I want a city that acts like a "metropolis"--but Angelenos expect their post-metropolis, and they like it. That's what people here want out of their city, and that's why they'll always argue with New Yorkers over whose city is better.
Maybe I'm clinging to an old ideal here, but metropolis-type cities have always been dear to my heart. San Francisco? Boston? I'm there. LosAngeles? I still need a little selling on this city. But Downtown may have opened the gateway.
This week, I took transit to USC to visit an old friend. I know--taking the BUS to south central LA?! But don't worry, I'm a regular bus-taker (and also a relatively athletic six-foot-tall girl), so I've got some experience under my belt.
Here's the route I took:
The 720! *Gasp!* That's right--insert dramatic music wherever you'd like. The 720 Metro bus has a earned itself a real reputation, but I'm not exactly sure why. I've never heard of any crime on that bus line, so I think it's probably the collection of characters that the bus gathers as it moves from deep East LA into the Westside. Because you know Westside people... they're the ones who "don't do the ten." Anyway, here's the route map for the bus:
I hopped on at Westwood and got off on at Alvarado to take the 200 bus, but I'll be focusing on my experience on the 720. I was a bit over-cautious, as I was leaving around 8:00 pm, and I hid my iPhone and my wallet in my clothes the entire trip--I figured, why tempt fate? But that also meant that I didn't take any pictures, so here's one of the bus during the daylight:
Right near good ol' UCLA! (Or at least the Hammer Museum.)
Like I said before, I've taken the bus quite frequently both in high school and college, so I wasn't expecting to be surprised. And I wasn't, really. But I did observe a lot of interesting quirks about the bus route and its riders in the 40 minutes or so that I was on it.
First things first: I was riding the bus from the Westside into the South Central/Downtown area at night, which meant that most of the people on it with me seemed to work nearer the ocean and live much further inland. That said, the ethnic makeup of those riding the bus left me as the outsider. And by that, I mean the only white female, with one other white male who got off somewhere around Rodeo. Other than that, the beginning of the bus ride had your usual groups represented: your small middle-aged Latina commuters, your black teenagers coming back from school/entertainment, the elderly people who probably can't drive safely, and an assortment of males that are harder to pin down.
The bus was crowded to begin with, but got more and more packed as we kept moving. It was strange to see the humble clothes and belongings of the people on the bus against the background of Rodeo Drive at night, and it was also strange to think of myself as one of them--who has the money for a car AND shopping on Rodeo these day? It really made me think about the socioeconomic differences that cause people to ride the bus.
Most of the journey was through pretty nice areas--Wilshire goes through some of the most iconic parts of town, like LACMA's lamps all lit up at night. Things got a little shabbier around Highland. The cars driving past tended to be older models, and there were fewer luxury cars. There were also more strip malls of the breed you see in Sawtelle, with smaller, seedier businesses. The characters who got on the bus, however, changed a lot as we moved further east. A lot more young men boarded, most of them with tattoos, tightly-woven braids, and sagging pants: quite befitting of a "gangster" stereotype from a rap music video. Along the lines of these guys:
I was curious: why wasn't anyone who looked like these guys boarding the bus west of San Vincente? What about the change in territory brought about this change in demographics? Nobody else who joined the 720 was unanticipated or all that different from the people who got on near Westwood. So why the change for this specific group of 20-something Latino and black males?
This week's reading, the LA Times article about the LA riots, really made me think about the culture of distrust that still exists between wealthy, sheltered, West LA and gritty East LA and South Central. After living in the Bay Area for 18 years, the so-called "quiet" or "underground" racism in the LA area seemed really blatant to me. People on the Westside don't want a subway connection to downtown for fear of "riff-raff" coming to their side of the city. People on the Westside would rather go to the valley to get a car part than drive east on the 10 for twenty minutes to the closer business. People on the Westside may work downtown but wouldn't take their kids there. These ideas and many others float around in the West-Angeleno's consciousness, and they freak me out. They probably also freak out these guys who only boarded the bus after we got far enough east. The obvious cultural divide between these people is challenging to post-riot LA, but the geographical difference is more striking and probably more problematic. It's unjust to be relegated to a specific societal rank because of your culture, and even more unjust to feel safe in only one geographic area because of that culture--and that goes both ways, west and east. LA might be better off now than it was in 1992, but if that's true, I can hardly imagine what kind of difference existed if today's isn't enough to set people off. If anything, perhaps the fear that the East and Westside people have for each other is buried in the residual resentment of the riots. If that's true, Angelenos have a lot of issues to work out between each other, and that work has barely, if even, been started.
