Fuck South Los Angeles. Fuck the crime, fuck the people, fuck the University of Southern California for being right-smack-dab in the middle of the fucking ghetto. UCLA gets Westwood, Pepperdine gets Malibu, and what the fuck do we get? The University Village. I didn’t always feel this way about our school’s neighborhood. Actually, until last winter, I loved it. I loved feeling a part of the inner-city culture. I loved telling my friends back home that I lived in South-Central Los Angeles. I loved feeling like one of the proletariat. As a connoisseur of hip-hop, I took special regard to the fact that I was living in the 213, and punk police were afraid of me. And, since freshman year, I have walked the streets of South Los Angeles alone, at all hours.
Then, last November – on election night, actually – I got mugged.
A car full of guys pulled up to me on the street, and one “gentleman” got out.
“Yo, lemme have this.”
And he grabbed my cellphone. And I, like a little fucking pre-pubescent boy, let him have it.
Now, you may think that this experience would have turned me off to living in our area. But no. Call me crazy. Call me naïve. But it didn’t. I still walked alone. I chalked my experience up to living in the big city. It’s just a part of life.
Now, about a month later, the house I live in near campus got broken into. My housemates and I were all away for the holidays, and some enterprising thieves took advantage of our absence. Over $17 000 worth of stuff was taken from our house.
This set me over the edge. Here I am thinking I’m some sort of “man of the people” who’s in touch with the working man, with the gangster, with the petite bourgeoisie, but I’m really just a dumb, naïve college kid who liked feeling blue-collar. People are getting killed in this neighborhood. People get mugged all the time! Girls are getting fucking raped! Why in the name of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph did I ever like living here?
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“God, I hate living here! Fuck this neighborhood!”
“Ryan, what happened?”
“As I was skating home, I went by that apartment where those gang-bangers live, and they were drunk or something and started shouting shit at me.”
“What did they say?”
“Oh, I dunno, they just yelled at me. Told me to fuck off or something. I just kept on moving.”
“No. Fuck that. That’s so screwed up. I’ma go talk to them.”
It was a Thursday evening at the beginning of the semester. One of my housemates, Ryan, had just gotten back to the house. I already had a couple drinks in me, and that liquid courage was working its magic. “I’ll be right back!”
“No – Dan… don’t go talk to them! It wasn’t the normal guys! I’ve never seen these guys before!”
“Nah nah it’ll be fine. I’m just going to talk to them. See you guys in a bit.”
As I walked up the silent, oppressive street to confront my friend's tormentors, my mind began to race.
Daniel, what the flying floozit are you thinking?! Who knows what these guys are going to do? Jesus… it’s kind of dark outside. Oh, God. I should just turn around. Well, I’m already halfway there now. Nah. What’s the point of turning back? It’ll be fine. Will it? Probably. Or maybe not. Fuck. I’m going to end up like that one kid last semester. I’m going to get fucking murdered. What the fuck am I doing?! Fuck!
Isaac: “Man, look at this mufucker…”
Rocky: “Yo, nigga, whatchu lookin’ at?”
Two young Latino men were pissing on a light post.
Isaac: “You hear us, mo’fucka?”
“Hey guys… what’s goin’ on?”
Isaac: “Yo nigga – lemme ask you somethin’. You like The Beatles?”
“…Yeah?”
Isaac: “You like The Verve?”
“Yeah… they’re alright…”
Isaac: “Nigga, you like Oasis?”
“Yeah. Actually… I really like Oasis. I saw them live when they played at the Staples Center in December.”
Rocky: “No shit! Us too! Lookatchu’ lookin’ all like Liam Gallagher with your walk.”
Isaac: “Man, come over here, nigga. No homo my nigga, but you seem cool.”
And so it happened. I had an instant rapport with these two guys, because we were both Britpop fans. Next thing I knew we’d gone through the entire twelve-pack of Modello.
Rocky: “Man… we need to get some more beer…”
“Tellya what. Here’s why I was comin’ over here in the first place. You were yellin’ at my friend as he went by on his skateboard, and I was goin’ to ask you why you did that. But ya’ll are cool… ‘smy bad. Lemme getchu some more beer.”
Isaac: “Aww, man, it’s cool. That was your friend? My bad, man. We cool. No homo, man, but we cool.”
A car pulled up. Fuck! I’m gonna get killed in some sort of drive-by bullshit! I should go… what am I doing? Offering to buy them more beer? Okay. Okay it’s just some girl they know. Whew. I’ll just walk down to the corner store, get some beer, have a couple more drinks with ‘em, and go home.
Isaac: “Man, look at this mufucker…”
Rocky: “Yo, nigga, whatchu lookin’ at?”
Two young Latino men were pissing on a light post.
Isaac: “You hear us, mo’fucka?”
“Hey guys… what’s goin’ on?”
Isaac: “Yo nigga – lemme ask you somethin’. You like The Beatles?”
“…Yeah?”
Isaac: “You like The Verve?”
“Yeah… they’re alright…”
Isaac: “Nigga, you like Oasis?”
“Yeah. Actually… I really like Oasis. I saw them live when they played at the Staples Center in December.”
Rocky: “No shit! Us too! Lookatchu’ lookin’ all like Liam Gallagher with your walk.”
Isaac: “Man, come over here, nigga. No homo my nigga, but you seem cool.”
And so it happened. I had an instant rapport with these two guys, because we were both Britpop fans. Next thing I knew we’d gone through the entire twelve-pack of Modello.
Rocky: “Man… we need to get some more beer…”
“Tellya what. Here’s why I was comin’ over here in the first place. You were yellin’ at my friend as he went by on his skateboard, and I was goin’ to ask you why you did that. But ya’ll are cool… ‘smy bad. Lemme getchu some more beer.”
Isaac: “Aww, man, it’s cool. That was your friend? My bad, man. We cool. No homo, man, but we cool.”
A car pulled up. Fuck! I’m gonna get killed in some sort of drive-by bullshit! I should go… what am I doing? Offering to buy them more beer? Okay. Okay it’s just some girl they know. Whew. I’ll just walk down to the corner store, get some beer, have a couple more drinks with ‘em, and go home.
Or maybe I’ll just tell them I’m going to get them more beer and then go home.
But. No. I don’t wanna do that… these guys have been nothin’ but nice to me, and I just drank a bunch of their beer.
“Tellyawhat… I’ma go down to Lee’s and get us some more beer.”
Rocky: “Nah, dawg. They don’t like to see us over there. Lemme drive you to another place.”
“Why can’t we just go to Lee’s? What’s wrong with that?”
Rocky: “You heard of the Harpy’s? …Well. Nevermind. Lee’s pays us money and shit. So they don’t like to see us in there. Just lemme drive you. Come on, you trust us, right?”
Trust you?! Trust you!? Of course I don’t fucking trust you guys! You’re breaking rule number one, Daniel! What the fuck are you thinking? Don’t get into the car with him!
“Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
Fuck. This is getting serious. Like, serious serious. I shouldn’t joke with myself. We’re… uh. We’re not just driving down the street, either. I’m fucking riding with a gang member – a drunk gang member – and I don’t even know where the fuck we’re going.
Okay. Um. Oh, we’re here. Wherever here is. Vermont and somewhere.
We walked up to the store, which was, by the way, clearly a gang operation. There was a big bouncer-dude inside watching the place who Rocky seemed to know intimately. I bought another twelve pack of beer, and we drove back to outside their apartment.
And there I stood with these two guys. Isaac and Rocky. Rocky went up to his apartment and brought down his vinyl copy of Dig Out Your Soul, the latest Oasis album, which he had bought on his last trip to Manchester. Rocky was, apparently, an aspiring musician. He also had a court date the next morning for Grand Theft Auto.
“Tellyawhat… I’ma go down to Lee’s and get us some more beer.”
Rocky: “Nah, dawg. They don’t like to see us over there. Lemme drive you to another place.”
“Why can’t we just go to Lee’s? What’s wrong with that?”
Rocky: “You heard of the Harpy’s? …Well. Nevermind. Lee’s pays us money and shit. So they don’t like to see us in there. Just lemme drive you. Come on, you trust us, right?”
Trust you?! Trust you!? Of course I don’t fucking trust you guys! You’re breaking rule number one, Daniel! What the fuck are you thinking? Don’t get into the car with him!
“Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
Fuck. This is getting serious. Like, serious serious. I shouldn’t joke with myself. We’re… uh. We’re not just driving down the street, either. I’m fucking riding with a gang member – a drunk gang member – and I don’t even know where the fuck we’re going.
Okay. Um. Oh, we’re here. Wherever here is. Vermont and somewhere.
We walked up to the store, which was, by the way, clearly a gang operation. There was a big bouncer-dude inside watching the place who Rocky seemed to know intimately. I bought another twelve pack of beer, and we drove back to outside their apartment.
And there I stood with these two guys. Isaac and Rocky. Rocky went up to his apartment and brought down his vinyl copy of Dig Out Your Soul, the latest Oasis album, which he had bought on his last trip to Manchester. Rocky was, apparently, an aspiring musician. He also had a court date the next morning for Grand Theft Auto.
Isaac was on probation, so he couldn’t leave the state.
A few more of their friends showed up, and I met them, too. I even met Isaac’s Mom for a couple minutes when she leaned out of her apartment window to yell at us to shut up.
Isaac: “Yo nigga, you wanna smoke a blunt?”
“...Sure.”
I was all in.
I looked at my phone. It had been over an hour and a half since I left my house.
Rocky: “Yo homeboy, I’m tryin’ to get paid. I need to go to Commerce.”
Isaac: “I feel you nigga. Lemme go inside to get my gun.”
Rocky: “You wanna come with us?”
“No! Nope. I’m good. Hey, thanks for the beer, and the weed. It was nice to meet you guys.”
And so I left. But not before I got Rocky’s number and Isaac promised that they “had my back if I ever needed anything.”
Now, I’m not going to pretend that I made a lot of good decisions that night. Because I didn’t. I certainly laid myself prostrate before the hands of fate. What produced great material for a solo performance could have also become a news story: NAÏVE UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA STUDENT MISSING – LAST SEEN WITH KNOWN GANG MEMBERS.
But nothing bad did happen. I don’t know why it didn’t. But maybe – just maybe – the world isn’t as dangerous as we all like to pretend it is. Yes, people do get mugged. Young women have been raped. And that’s fucking inexcusable and terrible. But these are rare occurrences, and can often be avoided. Yes, we don’t live in Westwood, where everything is sanitized, expensive, and glitzy. But we can go to Westwood when we want. Meanwhile, we live in the real world, where we are constantly reminded of just how lucky we are to be in college and not in a gang. But gang-members are real people too. They like Oasis and The Beatles, just like you and me.
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Hey everyone, please be careful out there. And if someone tries to carjack you, or mug you, or whatever, for God's sake, just let them have whatever they want.
A few of my fellow bloggers also have excellent posts about USC's relationship with its neighborhood, in light of the recent tragedy. Check out the Chunder Tribune for a great op-ed about USC forcing gentrification on its environs.
A few of my fellow bloggers also have excellent posts about USC's relationship with its neighborhood, in light of the recent tragedy. Check out the Chunder Tribune for a great op-ed about USC forcing gentrification on its environs.
This was hands down one of the best posts I have read this year. Honestly, I am shocked with your decision making process but I cannot say that I would have done anything differently. I live over on the west side of campus (the other side of vermont) where the reputation tends to be slightly "tougher" if you will. A week ago I had my bike stolen outside my house at 2:30 in the afternoon while I was in it! Now I have been extraordinarily irritated with the incident. However, this really has given me some perspective. I would have enjoyed this scene as well I am sure.
ReplyDeleteIn September, my roommates and I left our apartment for 45 minutes at around midnight, and someone broke in through my window and stole my laptop. It has made me very bitter about the area. Since we were gone for such a short amount of time, I don't think this was any sort of coincidence, rather people were waiting outside hoping we would leave. Later, I learned my apartment complex was a popular target because a drug dealer that didn't get along with the locals too well lived here. Although living here sucks, it will be awesome when we graduate and can move somewhere even a little nicer and appreciate it that much more. In the meantime, I enjoy listening to all the brats that go here complain about how they live in the 'ghetto.'
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WOW! That is my first reaction to this wonderful piece, you create a great picture of what is like to live near the USC area, though the university has tried to make the community safer, there will always be that lingering thought, of getting attacked, in the back of my mind whenever I walk home after studying in the library or when I am coming home from a party. This piece gives a perspective to all those who do not no what its like to live in this area.
ReplyDeleteThis is a great article. I think it gives a good perspective on not only what it's like to live in the area, but also what it's like to live in any sort of environment like this where the majority of people are much worse off socioeconomically than yourself. I like that it shows that kids may be in a gang, but that doesn't necessarily define them. Sometimes that's just the product of the environment they live in; if you're not in a gang, then you're not safe from other gangs. It was funny to read the dialogue, and I'm glad you remembered it to write it down for a performance. Wish I could've seen it performed. Again, great article.
ReplyDeleteI can agree with everyone here when you say that this piece really gave a clear picture of what it's like living here. It's interesting to think many years ago our school was in the center of wealth but somehow over the course of time has transformed to be in the center of crime and poverty. I guess and can only hope that this is a cycle for Los Angeles and maybe one day it can be safer zone. It's just devastating to think that thousands are coming to this school in order to get a quality education, but yet have to hear things such as murder and rape surrounding our beautiful campus. I can't really make anything out of but to simply hope that one day it can change for the better. I know the security is very much improving on campus which is good and perhaps can help lower the risks of being outside of campus.
ReplyDeleteWow, great piece. I really like the perspective you put in about gang members having this totally normal side to them as if they were your next-door-neighbor college buddies. I'm sure it has to do with my bias of the gang-banger image that we see on TV and in movies. And then, you realize that these stereotypes existed for a reason, and you hear news that two students get shot and killed. It's a mix of reality and stereotypes, living here. I don't think I'll ever get used to it.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry you had some trouble of your own, and I do feel very bad about these two students' death. Many people are decrying the university for a lack of security and housing which forces students to live in the kinds of neighborhoods where these things happen, but there's only so much that can be done. Sometimes in a place like South Central Los Angeles, there will be tragic losses. It can't all be blamed on USC.
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