Masking the Shame in NOLA

I'm still processing my immersion trip to NOLA. I feel conflicted with mixed emotions. Trying to understand my feelings, led to a free write and the first half of my personal statement for law school. Figured I'd share it with some pictures from my trip.

New Orleans was rough. I remember driving passed a high school. The date read: August 17, 2005.

How sad. After six years, the city of New Orleans, the state of Louisian nor our United States of America could figure out a remedy to mask the shame of Hurricane Katrina. Of course, in some areas like the Garden District – where the city’s wealth is concentrated in the pockets of the same people that abandoned the city that demonic day in 2005 – have completely rebounded. The city restored those beautiful homes. The city preserved

Bourbon Street

and the Superdome. The city was able to patch up the broken windows and eroded parks. The city has not patched up one thing though. The poor, mentally disabled, or socially rejected people on the streets and in the alleys. They have upgraded from what the rest of the country recalls seeing on August 29^th, 2005. Instead of waving white flags and surrendinering themselves for their country’s help, they wave cardboard signs that simply say “I just need a drink.” At organization where we worked, they wave the queen of hearts in a spades game because that is what they do to pass the time in between their doctor’s appointments because the people there have HIV. Why does it bother me so much? Because it took me flying across the country to know that my people are living in third world conditions in the richest country on Earth. While I was studying and stressing about the LSAT, my people are trying to find food, protect themselves from a corrupt New Orleans Police Department, and avoid cancer-causing FEMA trailers. Going to law school and attaining my BA and MA will allow me to go into places like NOLA and advocate for sustainable community development.



Cafe Reconcile



Literally, where the levees broke



At our home in NOLA



Greek Festival

Just one of our many adventures

Day 1 of Fieldwork - Interviewing

Hello everyone,
Once again, it has been too long. Since my last entry, I've moved back to SaN Francisco, CA to do my fieldwork for my thesis. So yes I finished finals, did my immersion trip, took the LSAT, started working at the law firm, and started my research. My life is hectic as usual.

I'm not writing to vent though, more so to share. I was supposed to start my interviewing the week I returned to the California. I called up my friend to schedule all of the interviews. She informed me that due to various murders taking place in the neighborhood, many of the usual students in the program, were not coming. We got off the phone and all I could do was cry.

Time and time again, my colleagues in my Masters program ask me how will I refrain from being subjective in my research. My immediate (and well rehearsed) answer is "I have taken my passions, researched them, and successfully translated them into scholarly discourse. Through semi-structured interviewing, I hope to prove my hypotheses." Meanwhile, on the inside, my heart is saying, teenagers are not supposed to grow up meeting death before they have met life. Too many of my childhood friends have been murdered or involved with the "turf war" lifestyle; while even more of my female friends and family members have been adversely affected by it. I don't need Elijah Anderson, Lois Wacquant or Jodi Miller to teach me these things because I've lived it. Further, my first attempt at meeting the respondents because the population of 14-18 year old girls living in this neighborhood are afraid to leave their homes.

It's not right. As a community member, I'm outraged. As a researcher, I'm intrigued. As a Christian, I am praying steadfastly that the Lord provide a resolve.

A month later, I was able to start my interviews. I prepared a binder that has all of my current research, approximately 30 pages of literature reviews and information on my methods and methodology. A counselor and I sat down to do the interviews and my hypothese are already being proven. Approximately half of the respondents live in the neighborhood of interest. They describe their community as "full of hopelessness."

I try to leave all of my blogs on a high note, but I'm still processing this whole experience, so I'll end with a request to simply pray for a young people growing with no hope. I pray that God will speak to them and let them know that they must be the change they wish to see.

Emotional Rollercoaster

As an undergraduate, I constantly complained about being extremely busy and not having time for myself. As a graduate student, I do not even have the time to complain. My last blog post was in February! Between work, classes, LSAT and my New Orleans immersion trip, I have not had much free time. So here we go with a brief update.

I will be home, reunited with friends and family in San Francisco on June 5th. 

Breana and Sonny came to visit for Mother's Day

I also start my field work that week. I'm working with a community center in Bayview/Hunter's Point, interviewing girls for my masters thesis. I'm also working this summer. So again, I should be stressed. The last 10 months has reiterated the fact, God has such a larger purpose for my life. 

Team OMA (Office of Multicultural Affairs)

When I tell people about the many obstacles I've had to overcome, they are literally amazed. Over the past few months, I've disclosed anecdotes about my life and attested to my unconditional love for God, and many of my students are surprised. They are confused how I can go through such things, talk comfortably about social injustice, and still believe that God has my back. I wholeheartedly believe that God puts you through trials, to make you stronger. With strength and wisdom, you can be someone else's angel. I've had many angel moments this semester.

One in particular has brought tears to my eyes many nights. Back in January, I met a student. He is a charismatic and passionate person, so we immediately connected. We converse about our similar family backgrounds, our love for new things and our desire to help people. When I told him about losing my mom, he shared with me that his mom also battled cancer. He empathized with me because he had to help his mother as a teenager, but fortunately, he helped nurse his mother back to good health. Two weeks ago, I was in a meeting with the student, and he didn't seem like his normal self. He told the group that his mother's cancer had come back and the doctors are giving her six months. As I attentively listened, I didn't even notice the tears running down my face. I could remember having the same heart-wrenching conversation with my mom's doctor and the end result. 

So what could I do? I, by myself, could not do anything. I prayed and asked God, "Can you use me to bless him?" At 18 years old, a doctor told me those same words and I was lost. Of course I related with the student. So how did God use me? Miraculously (because I don't read the Bible as much I should), I was able to say:

"Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint" (Isaiah 40:31). 

"Be strong! Be courageous! Do not be afraid of them! For the Lord your God will be with you. He will neither fail you nor forsake you" (Deuteronomy 31:6).

And I hugged him. I gave him the tightest and warmest embrace that I could. I know that God is real and His love was in that hug! The same weekend that people are cheering with hearts of hatred because Osama Bin Laden was killed, we hugged each other and experienced God everlasting love flowing between us.  The past couple months have been some the hardest of my life, but it has only cultivated my testimony.

I don't share this to be audacious nor preachy. I share it to show God's power. Have you taken the time to share and cultivate your testimony? We are all amazing people -College students, graduates, young professionals, leaders in your respective field. We are achieving over and over again but how often do we take the time to reflect on the struggles in our lives? Take the time to think about stepping out of your comfort zone so that God can use you to touch people. 

While studying for my LSAT, I will be taking a giant jump out of my comfort zone and traveling to New Orleans, LA to live in a residential facility for people living with HIV/AIDS. Am I scared? Yes, but just about flying. I have no worries because I embrace the scripture "Be still and know that I am God." 

My NOLA team (missing a couple)

Just me exploring New York, NY (finally)

New Orleans on My Mind

Hi everyone!

I have finally, well almost finally, crafted my research question:

"How does the social capitol of adolescent African American girls affect their integration into public space?" I plan to answer the question through qualitative interviews with young people Bayview/Hunter's Point this summer.

I am extremely excited for my research because I can finally bridge the gap between my intellectual pursuits and my community. However, before beginning this summer, I am chaperoning a student group on a service-learning trip. 11 undergraduate students and I will go to New Orleans, Louisiana for 10 days. Interestingly, the trip’s activities directly reflect one of my sorority's newest initiatives, Social Justice and Human Rights. We will be living at the Lazarus Project. The Lazarus Project is a residential facility for people living with HIV/AIDS. Hurricane Katrina directly afflicted many of the residents. Our job is to listen to their stories, help execute daily services and gain a better understanding of New Orleans culture. 

I can really use your prayers and support while preparing for the trip. I know it will be tough emotionally, but it be a life-changing experience. I'm really really really excited to be immersed in the culture, people and history of New Orleans. 

Jambalaya

Louis Armstrong

Mardi Gras

Marie Laveau

New Orleans Saints

Add caption

Po Boy

New Orleans by Charles Perkins

If your American dream is painted on a canvas
Neatly folded in the corner of Andy Warhol’s mind
New Orleans is a hurricane beating down your coast

If you close your eyes
And feel the easy ride
Of the St. Charles Street Car
Where a solo tuba
Blows the scent of magnolia
Down narrow streets
and everyone plays possum with the heat
and no one’s too big or too small
to paint their tongue with a snowball

where former slaves pay homage to the first Americans
by masking in suits of rhine stones and bright colored feathers
that transform security guards into Indian Chiefs
doing rain dances on Congo Square
where the drums drum
and the wine drink
and the big chief sing
somebody give me a quarter
cause pretty big chief want some water

if you can envision the souls of yesterday
living in the music
that rises from the cracks in the sidewalks
New Orleans is your dream
With a heart as soft
As the spanish moss
Dripping from centuries old oak tress

She’s a pretty face with dirty feet
The good witch of lake Ponchartrain
The spice god of shrimp and crawfish
Keeping the spirits fed

Communities of windowless monuments
Masquerading as cemeteries
Tower above ground
No earth or worms to cover the flesh
No silver bullets to turn out the spirits
That still dance with her

Spin your umbrella
And wave your bandanna
It’s Mardi Gras time
And everybody’s happy

Armed with a blue print of civilization
The new world stormed in
With enough asphalt and cement
To pave a boulevard back to Paris

the spirit of the swamp still hasn’t submitted
Leaving mildewed kisses of disapproval
On every thing foreign to the wet lands

Catholicism could not turn out the spirit of Marie Laveau
The wrecking ball could not turn out the spirit of Storyville
And death could not turn out the spirit of Louie Armstrong
When yesterday hangs on to forever
Tradition is a temple.

Able-Bodied and Socially Just

Hello everyone!
It has been a long time! Unfortunately and fortunately, I have been extremely busy with school, work and navigating New York winter weather.

Merry Christmas

So many blog topics have come up over the past couple months but one in particular has been on my mind. Firstly, let me start with a small academic update. This semester is taking me deeper into to my masters thesis. In addition to taking a Research Design course, I'm taking an Urban Political Process class and a sociology course about Immigration. On the first day of my political science class my professor was flabbergasted when I told class that I aspire to be a politician. Because New York and San Francisco are so influential, controversial and popular, naturally, residents of each city are cynical and critical of their city politics. That's fine. I've been in love with the law and social change for a long time so there is no changing my aspiration. Reading various articles and books has made me more thoughtful about decisions made by our government, especially when basic social services are not offered to impoverished people living in these cities.

Working on a college campus, in an office dedicated to multicultural affairs, I'm constantly reminded of social identity. One political policy has really triggered and irritated me. The snowstorms in NY have made national news. I, along with other New York residents, have been highly upset with city's inefficient and ineffective methods to cleaning up the snow. Furthermore, I really don't like being cold or my feet getting wet as I walk the few blocks to school. As I was marching and trying to maintain my balance on countless yards of snow, I thought to myself, how would I get through this in a wheelchair? Or with a walking stick?

After I stopped and thanked God for blessing me to be physically capable to do this, I had to really stop and think of what type of civic servant will I be? Working solely for economic development is not enough. Fighting the good fight and advocating for racial equality is great. However, it is time for public servants, especially our elected officials to move passed the basics and incorporate all of their constituents. We hear it over and over again, be the change. Let's talk about it and be about it.

For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf

I finally saw the play turned movie For Colored Girls. One word describes my experience: heavy.

All my friends that had saw it before me, said I would leave the theater feeling really depressed and angry. However, I left feeling inquisitive and inspired. I don't want to spoil the film for anyone that has not seen it, but the film unmasks many issues that plague African American girls and women. These criminal, physical, emotional and health issues are rarely discussed in the African American community. Seeing all the problems happening simultaneously was indeed overwhelming. Black girls and women experience these problems simultaneously.

These experiences go on unnoticed by society and policymakers for many reasons. The emphasis on discretion in black families, lack of trustworthy reporting centers and, quite frankly, no money to pay for medical care are just a few. Violence was involved in many of the stories described in the film, but none of them women were criminals. When looking at urban violence, policy makers and researchers tend to look at girls and women that are in group homes or correctional facilities.

That is where I come in. If you have not seen the movie, please go see it! If you have seen the movie, don't leave it thinking "wow, Tyler Perry made black men look terrible." Consciously, think about the critiques of political, social and economic systems embodied in the male characters. The stories seem far-fetched, some maybe, but I have seen many in my own community.

My research will take me into Hunter's Point and start investigating what's really going on in the lives of these girls. A scholar that has done a qualitative study with African American adolescent girls is Jody Miller in Getting Played.

I'm back and busy as ever!

It has been too long since my last blog entry. The last time I sat down to write one, it was full of stability and happiness. But me being Courtney, everything is always changing!

I am still HAPPY as ever!

Kendra visited from Boston this weekend 10/17/10

Funny dinner at 1300 Fillmore in SF 10/9/10

I took a trip back home two weekends ago to celebrate the homegoing of my Aunt Mary. She passed away about three weeks ago, so I went home to be with my family and make sure we were celebrating and NOT grieving. In Psalms 34:18, the Bible says, "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Later in Psalms 37:39, the word says "The salvation of the righteous comes from the LORD; he is their stronghold in time of trouble." My aunt is no longer plagued with many illnesses. She is happy and doing her happy dance with my mom.

Before leaving for San Francisco, the most wonderful city in the world, I pitched my research idea to my program director. Remember the idea I was so excited about? Studying the effects of natural disasters on people of African descent in the Bronx (and in New Orleans). Yes, social justice at its best. She loved the idea and posed probing questions to me to better understand the topic and where I should go with it. As we spoke, I realized that I would be immersed in this literature and topic for 15 months. Instead of thinking of what will look good to law school, I literally handed her my bibliography to throw in recycling and told her what my urban studies heart's desire is. My masters thesis will focus on the effects of urban violence on adolescent girls in Hunter's Point, San Francisco.

I know too many people that are affected by the violence that takes place in Hunter's Point. As I matriculate further in my MA program, we are continuously reading about violence/poverty in distant developing countries on the world's periphery or American megacities like New York, NY and Los Angeles, CA. While San Francisco always invokes images of joy, hippies, fog, the Golden Gate Bridge and an overall happy atomsphere. There's a need for research on Hunter's Point to expose the serious environmental, social, economic and downright humanistic inequalities taking place there.

My number one inspiration for the thesis, as usual, is my younger sister. Before my mother passed away on November 24, 2006, Breana (then 16) had already lost four close friends to gun violence. I believe two were involved in gang violence but one girl was not. She was walking to her grandmother's house, right off 3rd Street, and was shot. This girl was an academic athlete in high school and working hard to go to college. We have read the literature on what we thinks makes these young black men enter lives of crime, but what about the young girls that are caught in gunfire while walking to school? What about the female friends of the teenage boys that are murdered? What about the girl that grows up in a single-mother household because her teenage father was murdered? Is there a connection between urban violence and young black girls in Hunter's Point's America Dream of being a baby mama and living in government housing for the rest of their lives or until the baby's father gets out of prison?

I will conduct field study, interviewing girls and women in Hunter's Point next summer.