14 Reasons Why

I know that I'm going to have a lot of "firsts" while training for this marathon, but it seems significant to acknowledge the "first of the firsts" I accomplished yesterday: the first time I've ever run 14 miles (I'd run up to 13 previously, when I ran a half marathon a little over a year ago). So, in honor of that, I decided to come up with 14 reasons why I'm running for Team Taller de José (somewhere around mile 11 or 12 I decided that I need to start focusing on the why instead of the how... because right about then the "how" was feeling like self-inflicted torture):

I'm running for...
1. Pablo, who hasn't been able to see his two young daughters for more than 4 years because the legal system is failing him and his family right now.
2. Josefa, who lost her public benefits because she has a learning disability and could not understand the notices they sent her.
3. Isabel, who wants to take her children out of the country to meet their grandparents for the first time, but can't do so because the father, who physically abused her, won't cooperate to get the children passports
4. Juan, who packs a sandwich for me, his wife, and himself when we go to Stroger Cook County Hospital because he knows we could be waiting there all day to speak with a specialist to diagnose his wife's rare illness.
5. Mariana, who needed to go meet with a lawyer offering pro-bono services, but was scared to leave the Little Village neighborhood for the first time and take the underground subway. 
6. Miguel, whose employer took advantage of him when he was injured on the job because Miguel did not understand his rights.
7.  Paula, who was terrified to go to the dentist for the first time in years to have extensive dental work done to repair damage caused by domestic abuse.
8. Marco, who has Alzheimer's and needs assistance filling out forms for his discounted senior bus pass and help communicating with the English-speaking staff at the subsidized senior housing where he lives.
9. Maria, who did not know what to do when her renters refused to pay rent and threatened to harm her.
10. Eva, who was confused about how to enroll her newborn daughter in the state's health insurance plan for children, and then three years later was nervous about finding a head start program for her.
11. Sara, who was trying to navigate the legal system without a lawyer in order to protect her children from an abusive and manipulative father.
12. Tatiana, who is a single mother fighting for a better education for her two children with Autism.
13. Susana, who has been emotionally abused by her husband for years and is seeking counseling for the first time.
14. Felipe, who has not seen his family in years because he left Mexico to work in the United States, the only way he could keep his children from starving.

Though the names have been changed, these are brief descriptions of 14 clients that we've served at Taller de José in the past years. We did our best to walk with them as we sought to find the assistance they needed. Their stories, and the stories of the hundreds more that we serve, motivate me to keep running.

"Are You Lost?": Running in La Villita

Though I moved away several weeks ago, I spent the first 11 months of my time at Taller de José living in Little Village, just about a mile from our offices. An important part of the Amate House Volunteer Program (through which I began my work at Taller de José) is the idea of living in solidarity with the people we serve. I felt very fortunate to be one of a few people in my community of 8 people to both live and work in the Little Village neighborhood (also known as "La Villita," or just "LV," as we like to call it). Often I felt that this enabled me to better connect with my clients. I have first hand experience of seeing (and smelling) the garbage that accumulates on streets, sidewalks and yards (some of our neighbors tried to help keep their yards clean by putting up plastic grocery bags on their fences for pedestrians to use as garbage bags). I know what it feels like to be worried about my safety and that of my friends and neighbors when I see fresh gang graffiti or read about a six-year-old girl getting shot on her front porch in the middle of the day. I know what it's like to receive plenty of stares, catcalls, and shouted comments (in both English and Spanish) while running in the neighborhood; given that experience I'm not surprised that spotting recreational runners in LV is so rare. 

Issues like violence, pollution, limited income, lack of opportunities for exercise combined with lack of insurance or access to health care all help to contribute to the racial and economic health disparities in our country (the CDC provides information specific to Hispanic populations). In Chicago, the racial segregation of the city's neighborhoods (here's a map that makes it pretty clear) can make these disparities even more severe because low-income neighborhoods are also often those with high pollution. Though it seems that it has since been cleaned up, an area in Little Village had so much hazardous waste it was was formerly declared a "Superfund site"by the EPA. Coal plants in the Little Village and Pilsen neighborhoods contribute to significant health issues in the area as well, creating $127 worth of health damages in 2005. An article by NBC Chicago shares, "They’re so toxic that a Harvard School of Public Health study found they cause 41 premature deaths, 550 emergency room visits and 2,800 asthma attacks every year." Luckily, these plants are scheduled to close soon, but that won't undo the toll they've already taken on the community.

However, it's also important to recognize that there are many groups trying to combat these issues. Both the YMCA and the Lawndale Christian Fitness Center provide opportunities for a diverse group of people from both Little Village and North Lawndale (a predominately African American neighborhood) to use the exercise facilities for very reasonable prices. The  Little Village Environmental Justice Organization has been working hard to fight for better environmental conditions, and several clinics in the area offer low-cost medical care. And then of course, there's Taller de José! Though our mission isn't exclusively health-related, we do refer and accompany clients to clinics and hospitals (see my last post for a story of one such accompaniment), and we do our best to participate in programs working to better the health of the community. We partner with Picture Good Health, a program to improve diabetes care in Latino communities, and my co-worker facilitates the Maternal Wellness Committee at St. Agnes of Bohemia to address the issue of infant mortality, bringing parent support groups, prenatal classes, and an infant development group to the community.

One of the comments yelled at me one day while running really sticks out to me: "Are you lost? This is a Mexican hood!" I wanted to yell back, "I live here, too, you know!" but at the same time I realized he had a point. Yes, I was living there, and I felt that I gained an important sense of solidarity, showing my clients that I wanted to live next door to them instead of community from a nicer area. But the reality was that I had only signed up to live there for a little less than a year; it was impossible for me to really understand what it was like to grow up and plan to spend the rest of my life in Little Village. It forced me to recognize that "living in solidarity" is complicated, and there are plenty of arguments for and against moving into Little Village like it. In the end, though, I think it was an important and transformative experience for me, and I hope that at the very least my presence as a resident there didn't harm the community's more permanent residents. And while it was often unpleasant to run in LV, it did help to put things in perspective and help me realize how blessed that I have the opportunity to put so much time and energy into training for something like the marathon. I'm running for my clients who can't run right now because of fear, health problems, or personal struggles that take priority, with the hope that my efforts will open up more doors for them in the future. 

The arch on 26th Street that's often used as the symbol for Little Village

"Oh, tú eres bien güerrita!"

As a relatively young organization, Taller de José has done a lot of adapting and changing in order to really define what it is we can offer to our clients. But because Taller was founded based on the needs of the community, I think it is part of the nature of the agency that it will continue to adapt, even once it has been around much longer. One such way we have been adapting in recent months is an increase in offsite accompaniments to medical providers. Sometimes this is because clients are seeing a physician who doesn't speak Spanish, other times because they are nervous and don't have a family member to accompany them, or a whole slew of other reasons. In the case of one of my clients, not only did she not speak any English, but she was unable to get to her visits on her own (or even navigate the hospital once she got there) because she had recently become blind due to very severe cataracts in both eyes. I'll call her Maria.

For several years, Maria had only been able to see out of her right eye due to a worsening cataract in the left eye. Then, in early 2012 she developed a cataract in her right eye, which quickly became so severe that she couldn't see anything. The loss of vision made it extremely difficult for her to care for her two children, especially her oldest son, a 15-year-old with Down syndrome and other conditions so severe that he is non-verbal and will attempt to eat paper products (or most other things in sight) if not closely monitored. Without health insurance, Maria wasn't sure where to turn to receive assistance, or whether it was even possible to regain her vision. Luckily, Maria was already receiving some case management services from another agency, and her caseworker was able to get her a referral to the Opthalmology department at Cook County Stroger Hospital, the "safety net" hospital for many of the county's low-income and uninsured residents. But Maria couldn't get there on her own, had no family that was willing to go with her, and her social worker's case load was far to big to allow her to accompany Maria. Enter Taller de José.

When Maria came in for her first appointment at our offices in March of this year, her caseworker came in with her, and when she had to hold her hand to guide her into my office, I realized the severity of her condition. During the appointment we agreed that both her caseworker and I would try to find a clinic that could see Maria. We both spent the next several weeks calling clinics and other agencies who might be able to help. The case is a great example of the type of collaboration between organizations that Taller de José strives to achieve; the fact that  47% percent of our clients are referred by a partner agency, church, or school, is a pretty good indication that we're succeeding.

A few weeks later, Maria's caseworker called. Maria had gotten a referral to Stroger and had a surgery scheduled for mid April-- would I accompany her? I agreed to do so and we arranged for the caseworker to give her a ride to the hospital. (Generally clients come to our offices and we accompany them on public transportation; for liability reasons we cannot transport them in a car. Because Maria's condition made it nearly impossible for her to come on her own to our offices, at future appointments I would go to meet her at her house and accompany her from there to the hospital and back again. We were fortunate that several times her caseworker was able to assist with the transportation.) When we arrived at 8:30am for what we thought was a 10am surgery, we were informed that, no, it was just a pre-op assessment, and that usually wait times to see the doctor are between 2 and 6 hours after the scheduled appointment time. Unfortunately for us, our wait was much closer to 6 than 2 hours; a little before 4pm that afternoon, Maria was finally able to see a doctor for a total of about 15 minutes. Those of you who know me well know that I really like things to be organized and on-time. The past year at Taller de José has been a big lesson in patience for me. (Coincidently, a virtue I'm also learning to practice during my running; training for a marathon is a long, slow process). That first day was a pretty good indication of how the rest of her appointments were going to go. The wait times are so long because Stroger is overwhelmed by the number of patients seeking care who can't find or afford it elsewhere. (I'm now reading County: Life, Death and Politics at Chicago's Public Hospital, which is providing some interesting history and insight about the hospital).

Now, about 3 months later, Celia has had successful surgery on both eyes, giving her near perfect vision again. We've spent a total of 45 hours together between riding public transportation and siting in waiting rooms for her 6 appointments. The first time I saw Maria after her first surgery (which gave her vision back in her right eye) she exclaimed "Oh, eres bien güerrita!"which essentially means "Oh, wow, you're really white!" We'd only spoken Spanish together, so she had mistakenly assumed I was Latina. Though not necessarily the most tactful of comments, it was so wonderful to see how excited she was to see again (and all the surprises that came with it!). That day she was much more independent and has since learned how to get to and from the hospital and our offices on her own. This new-found independence and self-sufficiency is exactly what we hope for all of our clients. She told me, "Isn't is such a miracle that when we first came you had to hold my hand so that I could get places, but now I can see again and do things on my own?" I agreed that it was.

"One doesn't ask of one who suffers: what is your country and what is your religion? One merely says, you suffer, this is enough for me, you belong to me and I shall help you" - Louis Pasteur