The Danger of Identity Politics

In our readings we uncovered a long history of racial interactions within the space of Los Angeles. The post-war period and the Civil Rights movement introduced a new climate of racial violence as well as a new age of multiculturalism. However, as we allowed multiculturalism to pass through our discursive forms, the specter of racial discrimination has worked to create class differences within communities of color. Kurashige notices that while Latino, Asian and African-American communities have emerged as the inner-city majority, their progress has been undercut by the deep structural bases of racial inequality, which has been realized in our socio-economic structure (289) This new discrimination results in the disproportionate allocation of resources to benefit certain communities at the expense of others—specifically, racialized inner-city communities. Some organizations have mobilized previously marginalized groups against these forces by uncovering a wealth of common grievances that cut across race, nationality, and gender. However, the momentum created by this distinction has been weakened by the prevailing multiculturalist understanding.

Pursuant to dominant discourse, the 1992 LA riots were construed as an inter-ethnic conflict. The problem was, while there had been tensions created by the racial interactions between an inter-city majority and the growing migrant minority, the ethos of multiculturalism facilitated narrow ethnic attachments that concretized over previous years. This form of identity politics has been prominent since the 70s. Fear and frustration in response to rising global forces drives the individual to seek political efficacy in numbers. Consequently, in this discourse of multiculturalism, groups dynamics are perceived racially. From there, the racial conflagration makes more sense in terms of tensions within a shared racial space. During the riots, Korean shops were looted and razed because of a class-based resentment, not in terms of the casual consideration of racial tensions within minority neighborhoods. Beyond that, identity fractures the American polity. As we observed in the LA riots, affirmations of difference work against wide acceptance into the dominant discourse. Instead of being understood as a class riot, it has been portrayed as another race riot. This dilemma imparts greater significance on creating inter-ethnic narratives of unity, like Kurashige attempts to do in creating a historical narrative and how George Lipsitz does over his musings on bus rider culture.

The future of Watts and Compton

I was browsing the LA Times and I came across two articles about two of the most infamous neighborhoods in Los Angles, Watts and Compton. The first article, by the Associate Press, published last week discusses the dramatic decline of crime in Compton. The article notes that "The notoriously high murder rate once propelled Compton to No. 1 on a list of the nation's 20 most dangerous cities. But that rate has now been slashed by more than half -- from 65 killings in 2005 to 28 in 2008, the lowest since 1985."

The article presents transforming the neighborhood as a struggle against gangs, explaining that "residents are reclaiming neighborhoods from gangs." They partially attribute the rise of gang violence to the glorification of Compton by "gangsta rap". By writing raps such as "Straight Outta Compton" and "It's a Compton Thang." In the late 1990s and 2000s, Compton received the aid from the city that it finally needed. Millions of dollars have been spent on improvements including townhouses and a weapon-exchange program. Big box retailers have also been recruited to a new shopping center in the area. Gangs have been largely driven out by neighborhood watches and more extensive police patrols. Despite strong evidence of dramatic improvements, I was surprised that the Times article doesn't quote anybody resentful of the changed racial makeup or the intrusion of multi-million dollar shopping center. Have the efforts really been a complete success or did the Times not to choose to interview critics for fear of undermining redevelopment efforts?

The second article describes a 1 billion dollar housing redevelopment project in Watts that will replace the notorious Jordan Downs housing project which was original developed for war workers during World War II. The project will replace 700 rundown dilapidated units with mixed-use buildings to house both low-income residents and others. The plan also includes space for a significant retail presence that they hope will be drawn to the area. Unsurprisingly, the plan is controversial. While most agree with the premise of the project, they question whether the Los Angeles housing authority can properly manage and construct the project. Furthermore, some community activists feel that residents are being left out of the discussions.

Like so many of the communities we have read about in class, the residents of Watts despreately want change. Since the 1992 riots, the neighborhood has had a national reputation as one of the worst neighborhoods in the country. I found the last interview in the article the most enlightening:

Among them is Keyon Johnson, 22, who grew up in the project and still lives there with his mother and younger brother. Johnson said he is worried officials will not keep their promise that all residents will be able to move into the new urban village.

"Right now they're selling the dream," he said. "Everything under the sun has been promised to Jordan Downs, but nobody ever delivered."

Still, he's excited about the upgrade. The current feel of his community, he said, "looks like bunkers. It has the feel that there's war going on." His mother, he said, deserves better.

It seems to me that one of the hardest struggles in any sort of public works project is gaining the support of the affected residents. Raising the necessary millions of dollars is no small task, but without the support and enthusiasm of locals, the project will be sentenced to the same dilapidated fate as its predecessor.

[1] Compton eyes comeback as murders fall to new low. Los Angeles Times, February 27, 2009
[2] L.A. Officials envision revitalization for Jordan Downs housing project in Watts. Los Angeles Times, February 28, 2009

Space and Transportation

We’ve been reading a lot about how space functions in Los Angeles, and I can’t help to notice that everywhere I go. Space is manipulated by the designers, giving them a power that many who function in that space rarely notice. There are numerous department stores that shoot you up multiple floors on escalators, but make you walk to the farthest corner of the store to go back down. Back at the University of Michigan, one of my professors took the class out to the main quad where most of our political rallies took place. She explained to us how the university had power over student organization because they constructed the space so that it would concentrate all involved, and made it possible to surround them on all sides by police.
Back at home in Hawaii, several low-income areas circumscribe the downtown business district. Because most of the middle to upper class areas are occupied, a new middle class town has been created on the West side of the island about thirty minutes away. It is interesting to see that even in the Aloha State, classes still choose to remain segregated. However, because of overcrowding on the roads, many who can afford to drive to work are forced to ride the bus with others who can only afford the bus. This common means of transportation partially negates the class divide that many attempt to attain via space.
A new rail mass transit system is also in the works, and although less than 35 homes and businesses will be displaced, I wonder what the effect will be on segregating certain communities. I may be naïve, but the project has the potential to really connect communities. Unlike the trains in LA, they will cost the same as busses. They have multiple stops in lower income areas as well as popular destinations such as Chinatown, and various colleges. Nonetheless, I am a bit skeptical because Hawaii’s economy is based on tourism. Because the rail will be raised, it is possible that like the freeways, it may overlook certain areas, and decrease spatial awareness.

"Urban Renewal" in San Francisco Japantown

The summer going into my junior year of high school I helped to create a youth-led historical walking tour of San Francisco Japantown as part of an internship with the National Japanese American Historical Society (NJAHS). Designing the tour exposed me to many issues that I had previously been unaware of. Most people consider Japantown to be a cultural landmark that gives tourists and locals alike a veritable peek into Japanese- not necessarily Japanese American- culture. But the story of how Japantown transitioned from an ethnic enclave to a commercial district remains relatively unknown. My own interaction with Japantown had mostly been limited to attending the popular Cherry Blossom Festival and despite my family’s active role in the local Japanese American community I had never thought to look beyond the mall façade of Japantown. As I soon learned “Japantown” did not change naturally into the way it currently functions today, nor did its citizens have a voice in deciding that transformative course.

The same urban renewal programs that took place in Los Angeles also devastated San Francisco Japantown. Prior to World War II Japantown was a vibrant community of roughly 30 blocks with more than 200 Japanese and Japanese-American owned businesses in an neighborhood known as the Western Addition. The area was primarily comprised of Victorian houses built in the late 1800’s that served as stores, meeting places and hospitals. These multi-functional houses helped to create a tight-knit ethnic enclave because many families built storefronts out of the street level garages and lived in the residential portions above. As we read in the Kurashige text, all Japanese and Japanese Americans living on the west coast were expelled from their homes and put in internment camps throughout WWII. During this time many African-Americans settled in the Western Addition, sometimes in houses that were formally occupied by Japanese and Japanese Americans. Internment of course drastically affected Japantown but ultimately did not change the cityscape as much as the upcoming “redevelopment” of the Western Addition.

Only three years after Japanese and Japanese Americans returned to their homes, the city of San Francisco decided to launch one of the nation’s first large scale urban renewal projects in the Western Addition. Exactly parallel to the stories of redevelopment that Avila chronicled in the “Sutured City” chapter, the Western Addition was chosen because of federal money received for city highways and the “blighted” state of the area. The city chose to flatten dynamic ethnic enclaves in favor building the Geary Expressway to connect a predominantly white, middle class residential neighborhood (the Richmond) to downtown San Francisco. The area chosen for redevelopment was roughly 27 square blocks that included the bulk of Japantown and part of the predominantly African American community surrounding it. The city proceeded to displace 8,000 residents, including 1,500 Nikkei, through eminent domain and after provided little or no compensation or assistance. Most of what they demolished were low-income housing, however, what they chose to build on the reclaimed land were commercial establishments, such as the current landmarks of “Japantown”: the Japan Center Mall, the Kabuki Theater and the Miyako Hotel. The city only built 800 units of low-income housing to compensate for the roughly 6,000 units that they razed. The construction of the Geary Expressway also literally divided the African American and Japanese American communities with six lanes of traffic. Redevelopment hit the Western Addition again in 1962 when the city launched another campaign, this time destroying 5,000 units of affordable housing and only building 181. Japanese Americans and African Americans throughout the Western Addition formed coalitions to attempt to stop the repeated destruction of their neighborhoods but ultimately were unable to make a significant difference.

During our walking tour we would tell this complex story of “urban planning,” discrimination and unfair treatment in front of an old Victorian house on Sutter St in Japantown. I would give all the numbers and facts that I listed above in an attempt to describe how Japantown had been fundamentally transformed and how different it would be had the city not categorically destroyed a thriving community. I would ask the audience how much they thought the house that we stood in front of costs today, keeping in mind that they used to offer both affordable housing and business space to Japanese Americans. The answer, $3-4 million, explains why the damage that the city caused is completely irreversible.

Film noir and LA

In my Core class, "Detective in the City," we are discussing the sort of crime and detective aspect about LA and surrounding areas. A lot of what we talk about relates to the sort of shady, film noir portrayals of the city and how the city itself makes those images possible. Much of the old 1950’s or so glamour of Los Angeles really lends itself towards being depicted in a film noir type vision, which is why many of the classics are. In our class, we discussed the architecture of LA and the sort of fantastical visage it often takes on, such as restaurants, hotels and Disneyland. These different facades of buildings lead to the fantasy as reality idea, which then supports the noir idea with the sort of fantastical ideas as real, hard crime. Also, just the setting of LA and the close proximity of “bad” neighborhoods to “good” neighborhoods, as we discussed with the FHA. The busy streets of Los Angeles allow for crime to easily take place and the fast paced setting of it all allows for the criminals to sneak away.
We have talked about how often times in noir, it will be the ritzy, glamorous folk who have their lives turned upside down by those of a lesser status from somewhere dark in the city. The issue of transportation is also a big one, which includes the ideas of the freeways. Almost all noir includes the stereotypical scene of one car being followed by another and how important it is to easily be able to move from one place to another, such as on the freeways.
Another very important aspect of the film noir subject and Los Angeles is those people who make the films. One very important director in the film noir category was Jules Dassin. Dassin was the director of many famous noir films, such as “Brute Force, “Rififi,” and “The Naked City.” Dassin did much of his later work in Hollywood, where he was a part of the Hollywood Communist Party. During the time period, many people affiliated with Communism worked in Hollywood. With that idea in mind, much of film noir may have been influenced by communistic type ideals. It is interesting that the ideology of communism would be one present within film noir when oppression is so present within all the movies. This leads to the idea that oppression and such is inherent within life and is something criminal, as suggested by the criminal outlook stemming from film noir.

Little Tokyo all Over Again

Looking through the LA Times, I came across this article which tied in nicely to the Kurashige readings on Little Tokyo.

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-korjapan23-2009feb23,0,2634061.story

In the article, it discusses the influx of Korean-Americans in the Little Tokyo neighborhood in the past decade and the relationship that they have with the Japanese-Americans who currently reside there. In the past few years, the number of Koreans living in Little Tokyo has been multiplying, and with this growth, tensions in the Japanese community have been mounting. Because of historically bad relations and tensions between these two ethnic groups, the Japanese residents weren't happy about this change. Each group continued to believe in the racial stereotypes of the other group. The Koreans believed that "'the Japanese are snooty.' 'They don't greet you in the elevator.' 'They disdain Korean culture.' 'They're trying to push us out.'" whereas the Japanese believed that the Koreans "'smell of garlic.' 'They don't follow the rules.' 'They're going to take over.'"

Examining these stereotypes, we can see from an outsider’s perspective that they are simply that-- stereotypes; However, they are still detrimental to the community and perpetuate hatred and disdain among the residents. Though they are all Americans, there is still too much historical hatred and tension for the two ethnic groups to live in harmony, or so it seems. This parallels nicely with the entirety of Chapter 9 in Kurashige's book. Just like with the influx of African-Americans in Little Tokyo in the 1940's, cultural ignorance, limited housing options, and cultural histories have led to racial divides. In the book, Kurashige talks about the mistrust that Japanese-Americans had of African-Americans. The example he provides us is that of a robbery of an elderly Japanese couple by an African-American figure. This singular incident fostered hatred within the Japanese community of African-Americans without considering other evidence. By taking a select few events such as this, it is easy to make assumptions about another race, and that is what has been going on in the Japanese community. In the article, it provides a similar example of one man’s experiences being both Japanese and Korean, and the distrust that he developed for the Japanese. However, instead of dwelling on this incident and becoming spiteful, he used the energy to create solidarity within the community.

Beyond the apparent racial tensions that now exist in Little Tokyo, the article goes on to discuss how in the Little Tokyo Towers, a retirement community, the residents have taken it upon themselves to create a peaceful and harmonious community despite their cultural differences. Though the towers have always been somewhat culturally diverse, they have always been primarily Japanese. But now, with a shortage of housing options for retiring Koreans, about 1/3 of the units are occupied by Korean residents. Just like when African-Americans began occupying Little Tokyo, at first, the Japanese residents were angered that their tower was being filled by Koreans and they put up a fight. Legally, however, the landlords cannot give out the units based on race. The members of the community soon came to realize that fighting, stereotyping, and shutting each other out was not the solution. Just like the Japanese and Black communities realized in the 1940s, both groups should work with one another towards a common goal instead of working against one another. They realized that “if unity… was to be built, the community …would be the principle arena for struggle” (169). In other words, it takes a community effort to band together and work cordially. Even though the stereotypes between the two groups still exist, they have overcome these and learned to cooperate. “Despite the fact that many harbored racial stereotypes… [they still] got along” (170).

In the article, it discusses various ways in which the Koreans and Japanese have come together in order to understand the culture of one another. Members of the Little Toyko Towers have volunteered their time to teach Korean and Japanese language classes; they have all pitched in to purchase a karaoke machine with songs in both Japanese and Korean; they print a newsletter in both languages and have put on concerts from both cultures.

Immediately upon reading this article, the parallels between this current situation and the reading jumped out at me. Of course, this concept of racial tensions leading to solidarity is not unique to Little Tokyo. I myself made connections between this and my own life. Living in a suburban community outside of Chicago, the area has been primarily white for the last several decades; however, in recent years, there has been a large rise in the Mexican population. Because of the racial and cultural barrier, my community has been polarized. Though there has yet to be any real kind of solidarity, I can hope that just like these two situations seen in Little Tokyo, the residents of the community will come together for the sake of harmony in order to reach some kind of mutual cultural understanding.

Ritchie Valnes

Ritchie Valnes the pioneer of Latin rock has inspired many, including my parents. While reading chapter two The Nations White Spot from Eric Avila’s book I came across familiar names of songs like ‘La Bamba’ and ‘Oh Donna’. Influenced by the vibrant Hispanic culture, his songs were played at every family gathering. I remember my father always asking my mother to dance with him whenever that song started playing. The type of dance he did I think is called ‘jive’. I thought of looking deeper into the life of this rock star and tried to find a connection between his music and its influence on the multi ethnic culture of the post war period.
Valnes began learning the guitar at the age of five. At the age of sixteen, he started playing and singing for the local band ‘The Silhouettes’. After seeing Ritchie play at a Saturday morning matinee movie theater in San Fernando, Bob Keane the owner of a small record label Del-Fi Records invited Ritchie to audition at his place in Silver Lake. Impressed with his first audition, he signed Ritchie to Del Fi on May 27, 1958. Taking advantage of the ambiguity in defining the Mexican American identity during the postwar period, Keane decide to change his name form Ricardo Steven Valenzuela to Ritchie Valnes in order to gain better commercial success amongst the white community. Progressing form the basement of Keans studio Valnes now recorded at Gold Star, where he recorded "Come On, Let's Go" and "Framed," in a single studio session one afternoon. After his success with his first record, he played my favorite “La Bamba” and “Donna” on his following record.
His success as a rock star required him to travel and perform across the country, but Valnes had a fear of flying on account of an accident that took place at his junior high. Ironically, overcoming his fear of flying only brought him closer to his death. After falling ill at the “The Winter Dance Party” accompanied by Buddy Holly, Tommy Allsup, Waylon Jennings and several others, the crew decided to charter a small plane to get to the next show on time. After the performance at Surf Ballroom in Salt Lake Iowa, Holly Richardson, Valnes who had won his seat with the results of a coin toss, and Buddy Holly were taken to the Mason City Airport. On account of bad weather conditions, the plane crashed into a cornfield instantly taking the lives of all three musicians and the pilot.
This event inspired Don McLean’s to produce the popular song American Pie by which he paid tribute to that day by calling it “The Day the Music Died”.
His music seemed to appeal to the audiences, as Valnes used his Mexican heritage to his advantage. As he was raised speaking English at first he was hesitant to sing the song. But after phonetically sounding out the words and altering the song to his style “La Bamba” hit billboards charts. In the mists of the racial animosity of the postwar period Riche Valnes left his mark on the musical scene and will be remembered as a great musician of his time.

Redlining in Minnesota

There’s little information available online about redlining in Minnesota, and certainly none about my own community, a suburban town called Mahtomedi too small to have its own post office. But race and redlining have certainly played a large, if rarely addressed, role in the formation of my town’s community.
Mahtomedi began as a small collection of lake homes in the early 1900s. It’s claim to fame was an amusement park on the edge of White Bear Lake, accessible by a streetcar line running from the Twin Cities. Driving up and down streets by the lake, you can still tell which houses started their lives as cabins, and only later became continuously occupied.
My town is proud of its history—but only the parts that are sensational. We teach our third graders about the gangsters that used to hide out here, we speculate about the prostitutes that used to work the Elsie Inn, and we’re proud that F. Scott Fitzgerald got thrown out of the local Yacht Club (need I mention that this is a predominantly upper-class and upper middle-class community?) What we don’t talk about is the incredible homogeneity of our town. We don’t talk about the fact that we live in neighborhoods that are still essentially segregated against African Americans. We don’t talk about why our high school has few students of color, or why we have no teachers of color at all—in fact, I didn’t realize that was the case until I started writing this post. I would like to say that I wonder why we don’t talk about these things, but the truth is, I know very well why we don’t. These issues aren’t discussed, because most of my community is content with this homogeneity, if not outright pleased by it.
The only instance I could find of someone discussing redlining in Minnesota was a report of a lecture given by Professor Jeff Crump of the University of Minnesota in November of last year. Crump cited redlining as a cause of the racialized natured of the current housing foreclosure crisis in Minnesota, where the majority of vacant and foreclosed houses are located on the north side, in “racially segregation neighborhoods that were redlined a generation ago.” A little more research led me to reports of development on the north side, where private developers claim to be turning neighborhoods around. But considering what we’ve discussed so far about development in LA, I’m skeptical. The article I read made no reference to race—and that worries me even more. It seems easy for developers to use the foreclosures as an excuse to push people of color out of areas of Northside, which they can then turn into a new white space, further limiting options for already destitute Minnesotans of color.

http://www.tcdailyplanet.net/article/2008/11/09/mortgage-crisis-tainted-racism.html
http://www.minnpost.com/stories/2009/02/03/6336/are_foreclosures_helping_to_improve_minneapolis_north_side

School District Discrimination?- (in light of the Mark Wild article)

            The other day I was reading an article in the LA Times entitled, Funding  could oust outside students from Beverly Hills schools, describes how the Beverly Hills School District will be eliminating out-of-district students within the next two years, as wished by Beverly residents, so that the 57 million per-year can go to “actual” residents. “ Within the article one mother and resident of Beverly states:

 Out-of-district "parents should realize their free pass is up," said Denise Geller, who said she and her husband made sacrifices six years ago so they could buy a $1-million home in Beverly Hills and enroll their daughters in city schools. "If they really feel it is a great education, they should consider . . . moving to Beverly Hills."

            According to the article more than, “16% of the district's 5,100 students are non-Beverly Hills residents attending city schools under special permits. About one-seventh of these permits were issued to increase racial and ethnic diversity at Beverly Hills High.”(The racial demographic stats are from a study done in 2008 on Wikipedia where about 17% of the 2,412 students at the school are of Asian descent, about 5% are Latino and about 7% are African American. 68% of the students are white.)

            Although those permits will not be disposed upon students used for racial diversity, “nearly 500 students who bring in extra state dollars while rounding out class sizes and allowing the district to offer additional courses or activities -- middle-school French, higher-level math, a rich arts program -- are on the chopping block.”

            This entire article reminded be of an experience I had the summer going into senior year of high school I attended an acting program at Northwestern. There were 162 of us in the program from all across the US and on my first day I overheard two girls saying they were from Beverly Hills.  I was completely shocked since I knew no one from Beverly Hills, let alone LA. (It may be cliché, but growing-up I had always fantasized about Beverly Hills as where all the movie stars lived, where Cher from Clueless drove her jeep, the area code was:  90210, and more importantly a place where they served you chai tea and lattes in the hallways between classes in high school (as depicted in the movie The Beverly Hillbillies.) Needless to say, I had my preconceived notions about what living and being a student at Beverly Hills High School entailed.

            When I got to know both of these girls from the program I asked them about their school. They said they attended the public Beverly Hills High School. Seeing my enthusiasm they quickly told me that Beverly School District was not a “good” school and that a lot of people were bused in, had fake addresses, or lived in very small apartments in Beverly Hills (Which, to them, may have meant less worthy citizens of Beverly Hills?) They emphasized that the “good” schools in LA were private.

            The negativity they attributed to their school was the fault of the non-residents of Beverly Hills . This seemed a prevalent idea according to the article.  The Mark Wild article about High School Districts in LA from the 30’s echoed this article for me. – do you agree? Is this a quieter form of district and racial segregation?  Career planning? Do they consider out-of-district children a threat to the education of other student? How?- these are questions that the article stirs-up for me.

 http://www.latimes.com/news/education/la-me-beverlyhills10-2009feb10,0,6484727.story?page=1

Kurashige: The Fight for Housing Integration

In Kurashige's chapter entitled, "The Fight for Housing Integration," many startling points were raised that introduced themes in US history I would like to further research. The first is the use of government subsidies to create bastions of white privilege after world war II. Kurashige frequently mentions that tax dollars were being spent to facilitate white flight to the suburbs, most commonly taking the form of housing subsidies and freeway construction. This trend strikes me as significant because it dismantles that myth that government has a tendency to act impartially with its resources; in fact, this example proves just the opposite--government has, historically, utilized its public resources to the benefit of certain communities, and the detriment of others. Such behavior calls into question the progressivist notion of government acting on behalf of the "common good"; in the case of the freeway construction, one notices people are being displaced by freeways in the name of "progress" or "development", as wealth and resources are being transplanted to racialized suburbs (enclaves of protected privilege).

Another fascinating point on housing discrimination in the postwar era is the contradiction that this phenomenon poses when viewed alongside popular perceptions during the war. I am trying to grapple with how Americans overwhelmingly conceived of their country to by antithetical to Nazi Germany--America was unquestionably good and moral--yet so many individuals were fine perpetuating racial inequality and policing racial fault lines after the war. To what degree was racial progress connected with patriotism during WWII? Did this connection dissolve after WWII? How is it that the metanarrative of America's racial inclusion and goodness could be so far from reality? What allowed for such disparity between rhetoric and reality?

Also striking in Kurashige's chapter is the reference to Whites moving several times within a few years in order to avoid the "invasion" of Blacks. Such behavior, which seems to have been fairly prevalent, is truly shocking, and reminds be of the potency of racial discourses during this period. Often racism is described in economic or materialist terms--as a system that facilitates the maldistribution of resources within society, or a system that is materially rational for people atop the racial hierarchy. In the case of people fleeing their homes, while material calculations may have been part of their calculus (the fear that home values would plummet after Blacks entered), it seems that people were also behaving in ways that can only be described as crazy. People were literally moving over and over again to avoid living next to people of color. Such irrational or non-rational behavior speaks to the power and potency of racism and racial perceptions.

Responsible Work?

At the beginning of this semester, I had to find a job for the second time in the two years that I have been going to school here. The first time I got a job, it was at the beginning of the first semester last year (my freshman year). I worked at the Coop, and ended up not liking working there but more importantly, I couldn’t keep working there because I could not handle it in addition to my workload and adjusting to my new life here. I made sure that this time around, I got a job that paid better and had fewer and more flexible hours. I was also hoping for something that would look good on my resume. That I could afford to consider all of these issues in searching for a job is interesting to me, when I consider my classmates and friends who have to work 20-30 hours per week to put themselves through school.

Anyways, I was interested in tutoring elementary to high school age people because I thought that it might be a good way to work with kids, and that tutoring would be a valuable skill to cultivate. I heard from my brother (a Pomona alum) about a tutoring service that two Pomona graduates started three or four years ago in Claremont. I also knew about Harvey Mudd’s Upward Bound program, which (according to their website) helps “low income, potential first-generation college students in the East San Gabriel Valley community ‘generate the skill and motivation necessary for success in college.’” Upward Bound pays a slightly lower per hour rate than the other tutoring program and has less flexibility for tutors in terms of hours. I pursued and now work for the first agency because they pay better, I get job offers that are based on my schedule and my tutoring abilities, and I’m more likely to get good references out of it, even though the mission of Upward Bound is more along the lines of my social justice interests.

Curious about the per hour rate charged by my tutoring agency, I looked it up on their website. Their “cheapest” service, “phone/video tutoring,” costs about $20/hour. It is easy to imagine that this impersonal kind of service would be far less effective for a student struggling to find motivation to do schoolwork. The cheapest in-person tutoring costs about $25/hour. Upward Bound, on the other hand, is free. Because I believe that I have a responsibility to be aware of the effects of the type of work I do, I have been thinking about the choice I made to not pursue working for Upward Bound.

Looking at the rates they charge, the agency I work for now does not serve low-income families or probably many families that consider themselves middle class. Obviously, it’s a business, not a program with a social justice purpose like Upward Bound, so in some ways it’s irrelevant to wonder why they can’t lower their rates and change other policies so that they serve a less socioeconomically privileged population. On the other hand, I care about this kind of responsibility and I am working for them, so I am thinking about it and my role in greater processes of education and mobility. Only serving middle and upper class students may reinforce the advantage in mobility that these students already have because of their socioeconomic status and the increased privileges they have. They probably live in neighborhoods with people of similar socioeconomic standing, so the schools they go to are already better than the schools serving low-income neighborhoods and would probably benefit more in the long-run from having a tutor. What is my role in reinforcing these typical patterns or finding ways to challenge them, while at the same time considering my own financial needs?

Growing Up in Los Angeles

Using my childhood and upbringing in Los Angeles, I’ve been able to connect to and reflect on the readings personally by using examples, thoughts, and stories from my life. However, living in Los Angeles and trying to connect to the readings has also helped me realize just how much I do and don't know about where I live and where I grew up.

Avila wrote that as a result of the segregation in Los Angeles, minorities fled to the outskirts of the Los Angeles to find homes- Boyle Heights being one of the more popular areas minorities went to. It was surprising at first to read about how the people of Boyle Heights tried to stop various freeway constructions due to an attempt to drown out minority neighborhoods throughout the area. It was surprising because I’d never thought of the freeways that way before, as a way to keep different races apart and away from each other. My hometown is not very far from Boyle Heights so I consider myself to be fairly familiar with it. After reading Avila, I began to visualize a map of the Boyle Heights including as much of its geography and street layout that I could remember and I realized that it really was a bunch of different freeways and interchanges to even more freeways that “just happened” to all meet in this one specific, low income, minority populated area. I’d never noticed it before.

As a child, I hated going on the freeways because I thought being on them would result in long car rides. They had not been symbolic, known, or even suspected of, as a source for racial tension or other issues (besides traffic) for me. However as I grew up, I marveled at the freeways for their means of making traveling by car faster. I just always thought the freeways helped make the trip from point A to point B faster and easier. Little did I know the freeways had a much bigger impact and meaning for others than just providing faster means of transportation. I realize that freeways matter more, not because of the benefits you get from using them, but because they symbolize freedom and independence for many people. If you want to explore the city, pay a visit, or even go to Disneyland, there’s always the freeway to get you to wherever you want to go.

My hometown was also mentioned as another city that, as a result of segregation and white flight, became much more populated with minorities. It dawned on me that I had been completely oblivious to the history of my hometown and the people who used to live in it. I remembered that during my junior year in high school, I was looking at the yearbooks from when the school first opened in the late 1940’s/ early 1950’s. The student body of the first graduating class was one hundred percent white. As the years passed more and more Latinos started appearing in the yearbooks photos up to the point where the school was (and still is) populated with a majority of Latino students. And as a result of the Latinos moving in, the white student population quickly made its way out into suburbia, leaving a very low percentage of white students at the school. The story of segregation and white flight had been right in front of me and I’d unknowingly known it the whole time.

So far, it has been interesting to learn more about Los Angeles. I’ve learned more about things that I usually just took for granted like the freeways or the Los Angeles River. It shows that there is more to the city and it's history that I initially thought.

LA Riots Aftermath

I came across an article entitle “South Central-LA, 10 Years after the Riots.” The author, Steve Sailor, describes how ground zero of the LA riots has changed since the riots. He talks about how the neighborhoods have become more respectable and that the area does not look like a traditional ghetto that one sees in popular culture. However, he does point that in 1992, this same description would also fit. Sailor also talks about how Koreans have been replaced by Latinos in many neighborhoods. He cites the main reason for this is that after the riots community activists tried to prevent the rebuilding of Korean liquor stores because they felt alcohol contributed greatly to the riots.
After reading Steve Sailor’s article, I felt as if the author did not fully analyze post-riot LA. Sailor only describes how the layout of South Central LA has changed since the riots. However, if one wants to accurately describe how South Central LA has changed since the riots, one must talk about how the attitudes and demeanor of the people have changed. The few quotes he provides just support his claim that the design of the area has changed since the riots. He doesn’t mention the more important question of whether or not the collective neighborhood has changed its attitude since the riots.
In the article, the author makes some interesting observations, however his analysis differs from Min Hyoung Song in “Strange Future”. The two authors have different views of South Central LA after the riots. One could argue that due to these contradictory descriptions, Song would put Sailor in his section on naïveté. Sailor talks about how the epicenter of the riots has developed greatly while Song describes how in many places such as Vermont Street, the wreckage from the riots is still visible and many stores have yet to be rebuilt. The ruined buildings and the failure to fully redevelop the area would also indicate to Song that the impact of the riots is still resonating while Sailor most likely sees the riots as a short period of tumult that is no longer relevant.
Sailor also fails to fully understand what caused the riots in his article. He states numerous times that alcohol was the main reason for the riots. This explanation oversimplifies the causes of the riots and illustrates his naïveté as stated before. Although alcohol may have played a role in the riots, it certainly was not the main contributor. By stating alcohol as the principal reason, Sailor diminishes the racial tensions that were the foundation of the riots.
Sailor’s article provides insightful information about South Central LA after the riots; however his article fails to realize and address key issues of the riots.

LA riots aftermath

Influx of the Spanish Language

So far, a lot of my reflection on the readings and our class discussions has involved my personal experiences and firsthand exposure to the race, class and culture social themes we have studied. It occurred to me that the characteristic of ethnic issues within the US that has impacted me the most is the issue of different languages all being spoken and relied upon within one country.

Specifically, from growing up in Northern California, I have experienced the language barrier with Mexican immigrants and the Spanish language. Because I live in Wine Country, there is a large population of Spanish speaking immigrants who have come for the opportunity to work in agricultural jobs. In many cases, the families of these immigrants have followed, which has significantly increased the Hispanic representation in our community.

When I first really recognized the impact of the Spanish speaking immigrant population on our community was just before sixth grade when I had to choose to take either French or Spanish for my foreign language requirement. Although I was set on the decision to study French, my mom challenged me and made sure I considered the important advantages to learning Spanish. Her primary reason for this consideration was because of the growing Spanish population around us, and the fact that many of them did not know very much English.

Although many of the Mexican immigrants work on learning English once they move to the US, it seems from my personal interactions and relationships, that learning the primary US language is a fairly slow process. My best reasoning for this is the fact that even in a country so new to them, most of their time is spent with other Mexican immigrants within the community they have established, or even by social pressures, have been compelled to establish. Although the men work in agriculture under primarily white employers, majority of their time is spent in the fields/vineyards with fellow immigrants from Mexico where they can speak in their native language. Similarly, many women work in services with fellow immigrants, limiting their need to use English. In addition, specific schools have very high proportions of students who speak English as their second language or grew up bilingual, speaking mostly Spanish in their home. This, as well as the adapted educational culture with Spanish speaking teachers and staff, allows for students to converse in Spanish throughout most of the school day. Additionally, similar to the theme we have studied in class, the immigrants often live in certain neighborhoods with other Mexican immigrants, which represents their isolation within the Mexican culture and Spanish language. Their necessary communication in English is limited, therefore meaning that they have little need to learn the primary language of their new home.

Furthermore, the local community has adapted to the needs of the Mexican immigrants by offering a multitude of resources in Spanish. This includes the requirement for many employees of local businesses to be able to speak basic, if not even fluent Spanish, the array of written materials offered in Spanish, and youth camps and community events hosted in Spanish.

With the influx of the Spanish language, community members have had great exposure to the Mexican culture, and the enriching opportunity to learn a new language. However, the controversy continues to be very apparent with the debate about how willing US communities have to be to adapt to foreign languages. With the cultural benefits come frustration and community divides when Spanish adapted aspects of the community interrupt the usual routines and needs of English speaking community members. An example being the time when my dad had to drive nearly an hour away to find a DMV office that offered a pamphlet he needed in English, not Spanish. In addition to inconvenience, the adaptation of the Spanish language redistributes valuable community resources such as funding and allocation of efforts, which questions the fairness of veering away from traditional focuses to accommodate such adaption.

Tying this back to my language decision in 6th grade, my mom’s perspective was for me to consider the evolving necessity to know the new language of our community, which, as we all know is also the rapidly growing language of California and other states with many Mexican immigrants. This decision left a lingering and unresolved question in my head: how fair is it for me, and many other English-speaking US citizens, to learn a specific foreign language just to get by in our own traditionally English-speaking community?

Women's right to vote

I've noticed a major hole in all of our readings--something that seems to have been passed over by all of the authors so far despite the fact that it had huge significance for at least half of the Los Angeles population. Why is it that not one of the books we have read even mentions the women's suffrage movement and the 1911 state referendum which granted women in the state of California the right to vote? I was looking through the indexes of the books we have read so far and found nothing. I find this particularly interesting since Kurashige refers quite frequently to Charlotta Bass, the editor of the California Eagle and an active member of the suffrage movement. She wrote many columns for the Eagle supporting women's right to vote, but as far as I can tell he does not mention any of them. Much of the fight for women's suffrage in California took place over a time period covered by Avila, Kurashige and Deverell. While the goal was widespread change on a national level, action on a local level was crucial for the movement's success. Women in California, particularly in urban areas like Los Angeles, played a large role in the suffrage movement.

Here is a very brief history of the suffrage movement in California (I got the dates from the Women of the West Museum website). In 1893, the California state legislature approved a bill granting women the right to vote. Henry Markham, the then governor of California, vetoed the bill, however, deeming it unconstitutional. In 1896, suffragists added a referendum providing for women's suffrage to the ballot, but it was defeated by the male voters. Nearly 15 years later, with the help of suffragists and women leaders across the state, another suffrage issue was submitted to be voted upon by referendum. This time, male voters of California passed the referendum, allowing California to be the sixth state to give women the right to vote. It was not until 1920 that the 19th amendment was passed and women all across America could participate in the political system.

The omission of women gaining the right to vote seems to be a huge oversight on the part of the authors I listed above, but they are not alone. I am taking an American History survey course this semester as well that covers the time period from 1865 to the 1980s and as far as I can tell, none of the texts we are reading that discuss the 1910s and 1920s mention the suffrage movement either. In a course that is meant to cover all of American history, such a crucial moment for female American citizens needs to be included. I also took a survey course about American Politics last semester in which African Americans gaining the right to vote was brought up, but not women. Clearly, since women could not vote in almost every state for several more decades, it was just African American men gaining the right to vote that was mentioned. When half of African Americans were denied this right, how can we say that African Americans in general were able to vote after emancipation? When half of the American population could not participate in the most basic way in politics, how can women's suffrage be overlooked?

I am curious as to why these various authors decided to omit this monumental change in American politics and society. Since voting affects Americans of all races and classes, the subjects of any one of these books were directly influenced by women's suffrage. During the fight for suffrage, many social groups, church groups, ethnic groups, political parties, and unions all incorporated issues of suffrage onto their agendas. Suffragists handed out pamphlets (in many different languages), gave street speeches, canvassed door to door and founded their own newspaper in California, using several of the same media avenues we have talked about in different contexts. Such a fundamental event in the United States' recent history should be addressed when discussing this time period, since it had widespread effects and reached all levels of society. The racial conflicts during and within the movement could add interesting subjects in ethnic and comparative ethnic studies. The aftermath of the 19th amendment and the influence women voters had on the course of American politics is also significant in studying American history, politics, society or culture. In studying the United States and American culture, we cannot neglect to notice the long-awaited and hard-fought enfranchisement for half of the population.

Rodney King and Stephen Lawrence

When we studied the Rodney King incident, it reminded me of a similar case in England which occurred in 1993. An 18 year old boy from London was stabbed to death by five while males. Just as the King case had a year earlier in LA the murder instantly caused civil disturbance in England. Although Stephen Lawrence was not murdered by policemen they were blamed for racism and incompetence which is believed to have blighted the investigation which has been given as the reason for no one ever being convicted for the crime.

Both the King and Lawrence cases are examples of institutional racism. The attacks were believed by many to be unprovoked and racially motivated. In both cases the victims were single black males and the attackers were a substantial number of white men. The problem with cases like these is how to determine which one’s are racially motivated and which are not. When I first saw the video footage of the King attack I immediately decided it had to be a racist attack. But it is much more complex as many people interpreted the video differently. In the King case the policemen involved justified their actions and even the Jury felt that they had used reasonable force. In the Lawrence case his friend who was present at the attack heard one of the attackers call Lawrence a ‘Nigger’, this was enough for most of the public to determine the attack as racist. This is similar to the reaction that the short silent video of the King attack had on the American public when it was first released. The question is if these small bits of evidence are enough? And if not, what is needed to classify an attack as racially motivated?

The biggest similarity with these two cases is the profound effect they had on society. The King case led to rioting and a retrial which led to the conviction of one of the officers involved. The Lawrence case led to changes in English Law, the Criminal Justice Act 2003 abolishing the strict prohibition against double jeopardy. It seems that more is being done to stop these sorts of attacks from occurring, in these two cases however I still feel left with a feeling of a lack of justice. I feel as if more should have been done to catch Lawrence’s killers and more of the officers involved in the King case should have received harsher punishment for their actions. I think the two examples raise the same questions about injustice, cultural identity and continuing racism which still need answering.

The thing that I enjoy most about this class and American Studies in general, is the use of non-traditional sources. Being able to draw from the pop culture of whatever period we are studying, challenges us to look at history more fully. Doing this allows us (or maybe I can only speak for myself) to construct a very real bridge between a history of “fact” and a history of “feeling” (extrapolating from Rotella’s idea of cities of feeling and fact). I think a lot of people view history through the big wars, high profile names and public policy, but using nontraditional sources adds an important human lens to those bigger events.

For me this bridge is especially strong in our study of the Rodney King riots. Yes, there are the big facts. There were around 2,000 injuries, 52 deaths and over a billion dollars in property damage. However, Anna Deavere Smith’s expansive interviews in Twilight almost push those numbers to the background. Those personal narratives expand the understanding of what the King riots meant culturally and the greater divides and attitudes from which they emerged. Interviews from people that span LA’s social hierarchy openly present the conflicts, misunderstandings and tensions that led to different interpretations of the events. These interpretations are shaped by the individual actor’s role in a society that is rigidly divided by race and class. Deavere Smith’s interviews help to challenge the ideas that we get from the facts and see something much more complex. They work against the idea that all rioters are “bad guys” that disrupt social order and those in positions of power are always “good” because they did not directly contributed to the unrest. The riots were a symptom of an inequitable society and cannot be understood only through numbers. Sources like these evoke emotions that challenge us to go beyond facts and to (hopefully) analyze our own place in society.

It can also go the other way. Sometimes larger facts are obscured by our personal feelings. I think the idea of a felt history that overshadows fact can tie into Maia’s post on Disneyland. I am willing to bet that the Disney brand in all of its many forms has been a piece of most of our childhoods. It represents a certain set of American “values” and for many is a symbol of a middle class ideal. While Disney does bring about these distinct feelings, it has also had a very real, factual influence in shaping the lives (and the physical spacing) of Southern Californians. Avila’s non-traditional approach of linking highway development and land policy with Disney helps us to challenge what we have been thought to think about the brand and its representation as a middle class ideal.

Freeways

 Avila’s chapter about freeways sheds light on the negative impact the construction of freeways had on the way people lived in Los Angeles. What I found interesting is that freeways had a similar impact on cities and the people who lived in them throughout the United States.  Up until recently, I had never really taken into account the downside of freeways.  Like Maia mentioned in an earlier post, when I went to Disneyland, tomorrow land was my least favorite part, but it still shaped the way I viewed automobiles, in the sense that I couldn’t wait until I turned sixteen and would be able to drive on a real freeway.  I learned in high school about the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, and how great it was that people living in suburbs now had easy access to the cities. 

What Avila points out is that demise of the streetcar and public transportations, “had dire consequences for communities such as Watts and Boyle Heights, which became isolated centers of racialized poverty in the subsequent age of the freeway” (189).   The freeways were great for business men who lived the “suburban good life,” but they were awful for the people who lived in the existing neighborhoods that the freeways crossed over, like Boyle heights, a community that today is viewed as one of the worst parts of Los Angeles.  This is due in part because, as Avila points out, it is surrounded by three freeways – golden state, Pomona, and Santa Monica.

A few months ago, I read an article on Robert A. Caro’s Pulitzer Prize winning book The Power Broker, a book about Robert Moses, the master planner of New York City.  Up until that book was written, Moses had been seen in a positive light, as someone who did well for New York by planning out the freeways and bridges.  What Caro points out is that Moses had racist tendencies when building the freeways.  One example is that he would build freeways low enough so that busses wouldn’t be able to go under them, which meant that communities, like the Bronx, were sometimes trapped and not able to take public transportation into other parts of the city.   I found it interesting how Caro took a man that was idolized for many years as building such a great city, and shattered that image by exposing the underlying racism there was in his construction of New York.  I’ve never taken into account where freeways are built, or how they are built, and what affect that may have on the way people live their lives.

In San Francisco, I saw how the tearing down of freeways had a positive impact on the community in which it went through.  My dad was telling me about how on the embarcadero, a street alongside the waterfront, used to be aesthetically unpleasing, with a huge double deck freeway that led to the bay bridge.  This was hard for me to believe, because today I think of the embarcadero being a beautiful street with amazing views of the bay.  But it wasn’t until an earthquake struck in 1989 did the city decided to tear it down.  The neighborhood went from being somewhat of a slum, to becoming a tourist attraction with great restaurants and shops.  Once the freeway was torn down and the city began to rebuild the community, property values of the homes around the embarcadero shot up. 

On a more personal level, my own city began talks of building a freeway over a primarily Latino neighborhood about ten years back.  This happened when I was a child; I remember thinking that it would be kind of cool to have a freeway close by.  Luckily, I wasn’t the one making the decision.  The community came out very strongly in protest against the construction, and as a result, the idea never got past the planning stages.  I am happy that I can now look back and see how that would have negatively impacted the neigborhood, and how my views of  transportation and freeways have become more critical.

Lakewood's Spur Posse

I got deja vu when I was reading Avila. Last year for my CORE II class we read Joan Didion’s “Trouble in Lakewood,” which focuses on the Spur Posse. In the 90s, the Spur Posse was a gang of “All American” teenage boys from Lakewood who were accused, among other things, of raping underage girls. Didion uses the Spur Posse to get a better handle on identities in flux. What happens when the accessible American dream falls apart? As we read, Lakewood was supposed to be the perfect town. It is defined by its Americanism, Douglas plant, and gigantic shopping center. Everything feeds into each other. Like Avila, Didion is interested in the suburban character of postwar popular culture.

In his introduction, Avila declares that “space, like time, is an arbiter of social relations, and the identities that we inhabit—race, class, gender, sexuality—are codified within a set of spaces”(Avila xiv). The structure of the city embodies the “good life” and “progress.” Lakewood functions as an orderly, insulated, self-sustaining community. Didion’s question is this: “what does it cost to create and maintain an artificial ownership class? What happens when the class stops being useful?" (Didion 1029)As the Douglas Plant becomes less productive, the foundation of the community, identity, and self-worth is shaken. Masculinity too is under siege. Although Didion is not the most sympathetic of narrators, this essay did resonante with me because after all we aren't living with a booming economy right now.

Didion is fascinated by the response to the scandal. Parents blame the school, the media, “them.” The Spur Posse challenges a collective identity, one where everything is fine and dandy in true American form. What I loved about her essay is how she is able to capture the contradictions of Lakewood. It is an ordinary town thrust into the national spotlight. The hierarchy of Lakewood, with it's high school athletes embodying the future, has collapsed. The scandal splits the town down the middle and polarizes the people of Lakewood.

Although Didion does not deal exclusively with race, she does try to sketch at least the outlines of a very complex and contradictory Californian identity. To her, everything is intricately linked: from the postwar boom years and the good times to a faltering identity and a tarnished community. Avila defines cultural history as “the history of stories that people tell about themselves and their world" (Avila xii). Didion’s “Trouble in Lakewood” can be read as a cultural history. To me, Avila and Didion raise interesting questions about the narrative structure of the "accessible" American dream, as embodied in Lakewood, that are timely and relevant.

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Didion, Joan. We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live: Collected Nonfiction (Everyman's Library). (New York: Everyman's Library, 2006) 1029.