When I was a kid, like many young children, I thought my world consisted of my family and fellow neighborhood buddies. I grew up in one of those neighborhoods where a family could let their kids roam all day in the summer and not have a worry in the world that they wouldn’t be home for supper. I was blessed. At the time, I thought everyone lived in a world like mine. Life was perfect and safe.
However, outside of my small town there was a city not even 10 miles away that didn’t have the same perfect feel. I knew that area was poor even before I really knew what poor was. Everytime my family went to visit my Nana and Papa we drove through the “bad part of town” where the buildings were abandoned, cars were rusted, and people roamed the streets in groups often yelling at each other outside of gas stations. I was never taught this part of town was “bad” I just knew it was different from where I grew up and it scared me.
One day, as my Dad was driving through the town to get to my grandparents he turned a different way. At this point in my life, I had started hearing adults say if you go to the rough part of town you were more likely to get shot. This is a scary concept for a child when trusted adults are telling you a certain area is essentially a “shooting zone”. When my Dad purposely started driving to the area where even adults were scared of I was of course freaking out. I started screaming, “Dad, you can’t go this way. It’s where the “bad” people live.”
My Dad shook his head at me. “Larissa, just because the area isn’t as nice does not mean the people are bad.” He proceeded to pull into a parking lot of what was I later found out was the projects.
My Dad put the car in park and looked over at me. “Do you see that little boy and mom over there playing? Doesn’t that remind you of your brothers and mom?” I nodded still not happy that I was stuck in a car in the bad part of town but noticing the boy and mother did start to calm me down a bit. My Dad continued to point outside,”Do you see that elderly couple walking together? Doesn’t that look like something your Nana and Papa would do?” I nodded again at this point starting to figure things out.
“These people are just like you and me, Larissa. They might not live in as nice of a house or can afford a car but they are people. It is important that you know that they are not much different from us besides their current circumstances.”
“But Dad, why do people in town think this place is bad if they are just like us?” I asked confused to why my Dad was telling me one thing and other people were saying something different.
“People are afraid of what they do not understand. Many people where we live have not even ventured to where you are right now because they are afraid. They only know what the news tells them and often the news points out the bad more than the good. It is up to people to be brave and understand others in order to help people not be afraid. I took you here because I want you to have understanding. I want you to not be afraid. Yes, there are bad things that can happen but bad things can happen anywhere and we should be working as a community to help stop those bad things from happening,” with that my Dad started the car and we continued on our way to see my grandparents.
Going to the projects and having my Dad explain why people were afraid of certain areas has impacted me more than my Dad originally thought. He gave me my first time seeing something different from my personal experiences. It was the first time I ever truly thought about the lives of other people outside of my family.
Bee the Thread 