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