Culture Shock

     According to all of the people I know who are familiar area, I live in "the nice part of the ghetto." Ignoring the racial connotations that are put with the negative interpretation of ghetto, what they're saying is true. While there aren't typically murders, rapes, or violent crimes in my immediate neighborhood, property theft and gang activity abounds. The population is a mix of races, but we're all lower middle class or below. I've lived here since I transferred to school; for a very long time, I was very comfortable here.

     Then, two things happened in very quick succession. My mother's car was broken into in the middle of the day while she was here visiting me. Maybe a week later, I was talking to my neighbor who said a group of young hoodlums had tried to jump and rob him in the alleyway by our parking. Needless to say, I feel less secure here now. (As part of the backstory, understand two things: I grew up in white, middle-upper-class suburbia where crime was unheard of. Also, my car is having software problems and requires between 20 and 40 clicks of the fob before the boot locks; as my MINI is a hatchback, if I don't lock my trunk, someone could access my entire car.) I arrived home tonight, fairly early but still after dark and general bedtimes. When I went to get out of my car, two large young men walked up near my car and stood for a while. Naturally, I didn't get out. It took several minutes for them to walk away, but they paused a short block away. I started fidgeting in my car to waste time until they actually left. Even after I could no longer see them, my PTSD had set in too badly to be able to get out of the car, so I started doing homework. In the hour and a half that I remained stuck in my car, I watched the same crappy white hatchback circling through the area numerous times as well as two separate pairs of men wandering up and down the streets continuously. Needless to say, if it wasn't midnight by that point, I would have called a friend and begged to stay there. As it was, I waited until the car passed again and headed down several blocks before daring to take the minute to be able to unload my dog, backpack, and lock the damn boot and run to our complex gate.

     Needless to say, even with several hours having passed, I'm too keyed up and nervous to sleep. I hate being reminded of the kind of area that I live in sometimes. As privileged as I know I am to be able to say this, I wish I could just go home to San Diego and live comfortably again.