LJ Idol Season 8: Week 24; In Your Wheelhouse
We were sitting outside, just ready to cut the birthday cake when we heard shots down the street.
"Get inside!" My grandpa's booming voice was not needed, we knew the protocol and were already up the stairs and in the living room.
We moved to the center of the house, far away from any windows. I hid behind a large piece of furniture but could see my grandpa standing on the front porch. He made sure we were safe, but he held no fear for himself. I never understood why he chose to keep watch over his neighborhood instead of hiding away in the inner parts of the house with us.
My cousin’s 13th birthday party was ruined, and a friend of ours who worked at the convenience store across the street was shot 10 times, several of which was in the head.
**********
North Tryon, a small section on the outskirts of Charlotte. It's not a place you'd typically want to be. We were standing outside a church that was locked down tighter than a maximum security prison. The A/C unit was on the roof and covered with a cage of sorts to prevent the copper parts from being stolen.
And there we were to ask, "What is good about your community?”
The old Southern Baptist pastor stopped for a second. "What's good about this part of town these days? Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"Nothing?" This gave us little to work with on our project. There had to be something good, some type of hope.
He thought for a second before responding quietly, "The children. That’s the only thing that keeps me here, doing what I do day in and day out.”
He talked of church affairs interrupted by gunfire, the prostitution that went on amongst the bushes outside. The needles and condoms laying all around the streets and in the bushes.
We were there to find something to work with, some kind of hope, for our graduate practicum. Unlike the other groups who studied it from afar, I suggested we actually visit the community and talk to the people who lived there. It’s so different from the world most of my fellow grad students lived in... I thought it could give us some much needed perspective to work with.
**********
"They found Anthony dead in the dumpster in the alleyway".
The alleyway was right outside our back door. Mere feet away from where I had slept the night before. The grown-ups held off on conversing about it at the time but I later found out that Anthony's body was cut up and stuffed in a trash bag.
It was no secret that Anthony was a gang member, but he was also a teenage boy that we knew well. I would be sitting out front playing with my grandparents on the porch, he would stop by and ask them how they were doing. We were one of few non-colored families in the neighborhood, but it was our neighborhood just the same.
I knew of no other way of life. I remember the day I realized that my Catholic school uniforms consisted of the gang colors. I also remember the day our janitor was shot in the parking lot of our school because he confronted gang members who were graffitiing signs for a Fish Fry. There was also the time we were at recess and police cars came rushing up, officers jumping out with guns drawn on somebody the building across the street from us.
This was where I grew up; this was my home. These were my neighbors.
**********
Meeting back at our office, we sat down to discuss what we would need to do to help the people of North Tryon regain some semblance of hope and pride in their community. Plans for the city were sprawled out across the table before us as we discussed everything from the Hope VI dedicated to part of the city to daylighting the stream which we could build a park around.
Some of my team was dedicated to researching office markets versus retail, another person was dedicated to looking into apartments versus single-family homes to determine the numbers we needed of each to make our project feasible. There was our construction guy who would determine the cost of building everything. Our financial guru was in charge of our complex pro-formas to make sure we could pay for everything and still make a profit.
And finally, there was me. I was in charge of the social programs, most notably a 13 acre Hope VI grant to help with gentrification of the low-income people currently living there with the new residents likely to move in after the renovation.
My goal was to help them. How would we best serve their needs to make sure they weren’t merely kicked out of their homes and forced to find another slum to live in? How could we make their lives better? It was a question I went back and forth on a lot, it was my area of expertise and what I brought to the table.
As we doodled on the plans, I realized that the Hope VI area started across the street from the church we had visited.
"Let’s build a community center and give it to the church. They can implement programs to help the children with after school programs.”
Our financial expert pondered for a bit, "That sounds awesome, but how are we going to pay for it?”
That’s where my research had come in handy, "The Hope VI grant can pay for community centers. We don’t have to worry about it coming out of our investment at all.”
We could help our issue without bringing the bottom line down which pleased the team.
On top of that, we decided to implement an employment center that would also help people find work, and to help them find what they are good at to seek out potential careers.
"Everyone is good at something. The secret is finding that and helping them achieve it.”
My summer internship with a non-profit real estate developer taught me all about that. My boss held a Ph.D in Divinity and his dissertation was on a similar area where he researched just that. It quickly became something I felt strongly about as well.
"And a daycare center, also run by the church. To allow single-mothers in the community the ability to work without sacrificing care for their kids or leaving them to the streets.”
All of this, and the daylighting of the stream to create walking paths that connected to greenways, created a package we were very proud to present to the city, professional developers, bankers and professors. Our landscape architecture student put together amazing renderings that showed our plans perfectly. When choosing a name, we researched the history of the area and discovered it was an old mill district - hence the name we chose, The Old Mill District. Other teams were playing off the existing name of Tryon, which held a stigma to the area that we didn’t want to touch. Our chosen architecture schemes reflected that of an old warehouse district brought to life. And we included affordable housing that wouldn’t remove everyone from their home while bumping up police forces to help with the crime. Our financials were strong and the incentives I researched to pay for all of the social programs were solid.
The day of the presentation came and we were all dressed to the nines in our business suits. We showed up in Charlotte to present first. This was the equivalent of our thesis for our entire graduate career, and we were prepared. As we finished our presentation and sat down, another group high-fived us all, “You guys totally nailed it.”
As we watched the other groups present, none of them had even gone into the area. None of the them had talked to the people. And few even included ways to keep the current residents in their homes. It was all about the bottom line, the profit that could be made. Very little green space was offered up for the community, no social programs were mentioned and the district wasn’t given the life we had given it.
Our group took home first place.
**********
I realize I’m not a financial guru even though I can work on complex financial spreadsheets that would make the average person’s head explode. I’m not of the corporate mentality where I feel good about working to make shareholders wealthy. I need something more.
Only recently have I realized what I needed. Any job I dream of doing, be it a teacher, a doctor, a nurse or a therapist, has one common theme. People. Specifically helping people. My favorite job ever was an internship with a church based non-profit real estate developer. I met with the people in communities that were much like North Tryon, I went into their homes to help better their lives. I never once dreaded going into work because my job held a greater meaning.
I’ve grown up around criminals of all types, and I’ve met some that I believe are good people that have been placed in bad circumstances. Not all, of course, but I seem to have a knack for seeing the good in people and would like to use that in some way.
I’m comfortable going into places most people are not. I don’t flinch as I drive through the so-called ghettos, and had no issue accepting a job interview that would require me to drive to Skid Row in L.A. I’m a petite red headed white girl, I am very much out of place physically in these types of environments, but something brings me back again and again.
Maybe it’s remnants of my childhood, of growing up in one of the most dangerous cities in the U.S and dealing with drive by shootings and gangs from an early age that keeps me drawing me in. Whatever it is, I just know I need to find my way back.
(I am currently researching Ph.D programs where I could study Urban Planning or Social Ecology, and specifically focus on such areas as inner-city crime and how a city’s environment can shape crime and poverty. My dream would be to study an area such as Compton which would require me to actually go in and get to know the people. Because believe it or not, there is some good to be found in any community, it’s sometimes just hard to find.)
"Get inside!" My grandpa's booming voice was not needed, we knew the protocol and were already up the stairs and in the living room.
We moved to the center of the house, far away from any windows. I hid behind a large piece of furniture but could see my grandpa standing on the front porch. He made sure we were safe, but he held no fear for himself. I never understood why he chose to keep watch over his neighborhood instead of hiding away in the inner parts of the house with us.
My cousin’s 13th birthday party was ruined, and a friend of ours who worked at the convenience store across the street was shot 10 times, several of which was in the head.
North Tryon, a small section on the outskirts of Charlotte. It's not a place you'd typically want to be. We were standing outside a church that was locked down tighter than a maximum security prison. The A/C unit was on the roof and covered with a cage of sorts to prevent the copper parts from being stolen.
And there we were to ask, "What is good about your community?”
The old Southern Baptist pastor stopped for a second. "What's good about this part of town these days? Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"Nothing?" This gave us little to work with on our project. There had to be something good, some type of hope.
He thought for a second before responding quietly, "The children. That’s the only thing that keeps me here, doing what I do day in and day out.”
He talked of church affairs interrupted by gunfire, the prostitution that went on amongst the bushes outside. The needles and condoms laying all around the streets and in the bushes.
We were there to find something to work with, some kind of hope, for our graduate practicum. Unlike the other groups who studied it from afar, I suggested we actually visit the community and talk to the people who lived there. It’s so different from the world most of my fellow grad students lived in... I thought it could give us some much needed perspective to work with.
"They found Anthony dead in the dumpster in the alleyway".
The alleyway was right outside our back door. Mere feet away from where I had slept the night before. The grown-ups held off on conversing about it at the time but I later found out that Anthony's body was cut up and stuffed in a trash bag.
It was no secret that Anthony was a gang member, but he was also a teenage boy that we knew well. I would be sitting out front playing with my grandparents on the porch, he would stop by and ask them how they were doing. We were one of few non-colored families in the neighborhood, but it was our neighborhood just the same.
I knew of no other way of life. I remember the day I realized that my Catholic school uniforms consisted of the gang colors. I also remember the day our janitor was shot in the parking lot of our school because he confronted gang members who were graffitiing signs for a Fish Fry. There was also the time we were at recess and police cars came rushing up, officers jumping out with guns drawn on somebody the building across the street from us.
This was where I grew up; this was my home. These were my neighbors.
Meeting back at our office, we sat down to discuss what we would need to do to help the people of North Tryon regain some semblance of hope and pride in their community. Plans for the city were sprawled out across the table before us as we discussed everything from the Hope VI dedicated to part of the city to daylighting the stream which we could build a park around.
Some of my team was dedicated to researching office markets versus retail, another person was dedicated to looking into apartments versus single-family homes to determine the numbers we needed of each to make our project feasible. There was our construction guy who would determine the cost of building everything. Our financial guru was in charge of our complex pro-formas to make sure we could pay for everything and still make a profit.
And finally, there was me. I was in charge of the social programs, most notably a 13 acre Hope VI grant to help with gentrification of the low-income people currently living there with the new residents likely to move in after the renovation.
My goal was to help them. How would we best serve their needs to make sure they weren’t merely kicked out of their homes and forced to find another slum to live in? How could we make their lives better? It was a question I went back and forth on a lot, it was my area of expertise and what I brought to the table.
As we doodled on the plans, I realized that the Hope VI area started across the street from the church we had visited.
"Let’s build a community center and give it to the church. They can implement programs to help the children with after school programs.”
Our financial expert pondered for a bit, "That sounds awesome, but how are we going to pay for it?”
That’s where my research had come in handy, "The Hope VI grant can pay for community centers. We don’t have to worry about it coming out of our investment at all.”
We could help our issue without bringing the bottom line down which pleased the team.
On top of that, we decided to implement an employment center that would also help people find work, and to help them find what they are good at to seek out potential careers.
"Everyone is good at something. The secret is finding that and helping them achieve it.”
My summer internship with a non-profit real estate developer taught me all about that. My boss held a Ph.D in Divinity and his dissertation was on a similar area where he researched just that. It quickly became something I felt strongly about as well.
"And a daycare center, also run by the church. To allow single-mothers in the community the ability to work without sacrificing care for their kids or leaving them to the streets.”
All of this, and the daylighting of the stream to create walking paths that connected to greenways, created a package we were very proud to present to the city, professional developers, bankers and professors. Our landscape architecture student put together amazing renderings that showed our plans perfectly. When choosing a name, we researched the history of the area and discovered it was an old mill district - hence the name we chose, The Old Mill District. Other teams were playing off the existing name of Tryon, which held a stigma to the area that we didn’t want to touch. Our chosen architecture schemes reflected that of an old warehouse district brought to life. And we included affordable housing that wouldn’t remove everyone from their home while bumping up police forces to help with the crime. Our financials were strong and the incentives I researched to pay for all of the social programs were solid.
The day of the presentation came and we were all dressed to the nines in our business suits. We showed up in Charlotte to present first. This was the equivalent of our thesis for our entire graduate career, and we were prepared. As we finished our presentation and sat down, another group high-fived us all, “You guys totally nailed it.”
As we watched the other groups present, none of them had even gone into the area. None of the them had talked to the people. And few even included ways to keep the current residents in their homes. It was all about the bottom line, the profit that could be made. Very little green space was offered up for the community, no social programs were mentioned and the district wasn’t given the life we had given it.
Our group took home first place.
I realize I’m not a financial guru even though I can work on complex financial spreadsheets that would make the average person’s head explode. I’m not of the corporate mentality where I feel good about working to make shareholders wealthy. I need something more.
Only recently have I realized what I needed. Any job I dream of doing, be it a teacher, a doctor, a nurse or a therapist, has one common theme. People. Specifically helping people. My favorite job ever was an internship with a church based non-profit real estate developer. I met with the people in communities that were much like North Tryon, I went into their homes to help better their lives. I never once dreaded going into work because my job held a greater meaning.
I’ve grown up around criminals of all types, and I’ve met some that I believe are good people that have been placed in bad circumstances. Not all, of course, but I seem to have a knack for seeing the good in people and would like to use that in some way.
I’m comfortable going into places most people are not. I don’t flinch as I drive through the so-called ghettos, and had no issue accepting a job interview that would require me to drive to Skid Row in L.A. I’m a petite red headed white girl, I am very much out of place physically in these types of environments, but something brings me back again and again.
Maybe it’s remnants of my childhood, of growing up in one of the most dangerous cities in the U.S and dealing with drive by shootings and gangs from an early age that keeps me drawing me in. Whatever it is, I just know I need to find my way back.
(I am currently researching Ph.D programs where I could study Urban Planning or Social Ecology, and specifically focus on such areas as inner-city crime and how a city’s environment can shape crime and poverty. My dream would be to study an area such as Compton which would require me to actually go in and get to know the people. Because believe it or not, there is some good to be found in any community, it’s sometimes just hard to find.)