Let's get these thoughts out

I never lead a sheltered life. My parents grew up in Gary, IN, and a majority of my family lived there throughout my childhood. 

I thought I had been exposed to a lot when it came to poverty, crime, gang retaliation and everything else that ties into a dying, forgotten community.

But when I took my first job out of college working as a community organizer, I was exposed to some of the worst parts of Chicago that made Gary look like a prospering suburb. 

I went into homes where the smells of urine, weed and disease just seemed to run together. 

My goal was to speak with these  people about their jobs, their lifestyles; hopefully influence them to work toward change. 

But it felt wrong to me. The answer to changing a community didn't always lie in checking the "yes" box for union representation. 

It required so much more, and one of the largest changes it needed was for government leaders to really understand their lifestyles. 

Areas like Englewood need people who understand where the real social dynamics lie.

Gangs are created because kids are coming from broken homes and torn neighborhoods. They are looking for leadership, and that doesn't always come out of creating a program at the local park district, or Mayor Daley's most recent move-asking for federal money to create jobs.

Want to know the real answer? 

Feel what these people feel. Understand what they seek. 

As a reporter, I feel as though the media plays a huge part in influencing decision making. So we, too, need to live in the reality these people do. 

Get to know the neighbors sitting out on their porches during summer because it's too hot to stay inside. 

Listen to their stories as their kids flock from lawn to lawn playing in the sprinklers. 

And don't do it just to do it. Don't put them on some time limit. 

I learned this from my community work. I listened to some of the most unreal stories that even now I haven't forgotten about.

I listened to people talk about losing their family members to gang retaliation; dying before they have had a chance to prove themselves of some self worth.

They were stories of desperation coming from people who would talk to anyone willing to give them hope. And it wasn't going to come from me... a white girl from the suburbs who was still learning what plays into communities being killed off and forgotten. 

But through this blog, I will write. I will write all these people's stories. Without the edits of an editor asking me to change this, delete this fact, or cut back on poetic writing so the story can fit to a page. 

Whether some reads this or not is not what I am hoping for. 

I am hoping that maybe if I write this all down, I will never forget what it felt like to live in the  places some of these wonderful people do. 

I don't want to lose that feeling, because if I do, I will lose my passion to become the reporter I want to be. 

Newspapers maybe dying, but I still believe they can change the world. And I hope I can play a small part in that change. 

I owe it to these people who were nice enough to invite me in to their homes on hot days last summer, not even knowing what I needed. 

And for that...here it all goes