A Whole New World: Confronting the Reality Outside Your Front Door

I remember it well. The brisk air howling as it whipped across the black pavement between the drab brick brown apartment buildings identified by their big block numbers. The snapping chill of the wind accentuated the rhythm reverberating from the parking lot. The smell of cigarette smoke wafting from beneath the stairs and dark hallways of the buildings floated on the cold air. As a boombox played, a group of girls on the sidewalk choreographed dances to the beat of “What’s Love” by Ashanti and Fat Joe while real life sound effects backed the track. The sounds from the playground–cedar chips crunching beneath little feet, the squeak and clang of metal chains mixed with the laughter of dizzy kids spinning on the tires filled the air.

When I stepped out of my car and into this new world, it seemed the whole place was swaying, moving to the beat of a song I had never heard before. To me this world was magical because it existed outside the realm of my own reality, outside the bounds of my imagination. To the cynic, I was just looking at the projects, just the place where the “poor people” are. It’s where we white folk know the drug dealers and baby mommas and delinquents live, whether we know any individual there or not. This is where the kids with the “challenges” grow up and thus, I found myself there to help them. In my mind, it will always be the place where I first saw the world even though it was a mere 15 minute drive from my front doorstep.

When I first visited the projects I knew nothing about poverty or welfare or modern day racism or social inequality. A sixteen-year old white girl from a respectable, middle class family, I knew little of life outside my door, outside my circle of friends. When it all started, I was not looking for extracurricular activities to fill a college application, or trying to find a place to complete volunteer requirements. No, it was part conviction and part dumb luck that led me to the projects, or “apartments” as we came to call them. Somehow, in spite of my adolescent naiveté, I had this sense that the world was not always a good, and safe, place and that something I had been given in life was not meant for me to keep, but to disperse freely.

Anyway, I ended up with a group of students about my age with about my same sense of themselves in relation to the world, totally out of place and out of our comfort zones in the said, magical parking lot. Together, we began a tutoring program for elementary students at a little community center. One afternoon a week, we entered this unknown world and helped with homework, and played with the kids that we met. We were saddened by he stories we heard, and the kids who cried, and the distress we saw on the faces of kids marked by a life of instability and frustration. But we were also enlightened about this vibrant community and the inspiring features of the individuals who lived there. As my relationship with two kids in particular developed, I was invited, and then welcomed, into the home as a regular member of the family. We went to football games, rented paddle boats at the park, swam in the pool at my home, listened to trumpet practice, attended special church presentations and more.

The more involved I became in this particular community, the more evident it was that I could not necessarily change the things that I wanted to change about it. I saw that change happens over a long period of time and my most sincere efforts were really just a drop in the bucket in the big scheme of things. BUT (and there’s always a but in these things) I learned one thing to do in the face of a challenging climate for change. I could help with homework and help design science fair projects, and ultimately, help a disadvantaged child stand up with dignity next to the other kids in school.

I could write an anthology on the lessons I learned in the years following my immersion into life at the apartments. These lessons are foundational to my history throughout high school, college, and now post college as a “young professional”. But what I want to say to you, high school or college student that you may be, seeker that you most certainly are, is simply that these are the days that shape you. Yes your friends are important, all your homework should be done and playing a sport is a valuable experience. But chances are, you will never be a pro soccer player. However, you will always live in a complex society, plagued by conflict, poverty, and inequality. The sooner you dive in head first, the more equipped you will be to maneuver competently and effectively through this society. Don’t hide from what happens outside your door. Don’t wait until you have the money to go see Africa. Begin now and the whole world is that much more attainable, that much closer to your fingertips. The contribution you make to your own community and the lessons you learn as a result will be of great consequence to your identity and enrich whatever path you choose to take.

Just like you, I had a sense that I was meant to be a part of something more than my own little world. I ventured into my community with uncertainty, burdened by my stereotypes and preconceptions. But one step out of my own comfortable world and into another and I found a million things I never expected, both inspiring and formative in nature.

Who do you really want to become? What would you do with your time if you weren’t afraid or busy or distracted? Go ahead and get started now. These are the days that shape you.