Self-conscious realization of ignorance and lack of community. Good times for all.

Journal prompt: You may find that moving into your organizing residency is like entering a new culture. Your organizing placement group may have completely different methods of working, ways of relating to each other, and styles of communication. If you feel this to be true, how does it feel to be working in a different culture? What can you learn from the differences? How can you find ways to be yourself in your work while still meeting the work/culture expectations of your placement group?




I’ve been thinking a lot about culture the past four weeks—side note (one of many) good grief, it’s been a month already!—but less so within the context of my placement as within the community that I am organizing. My placement is quite casual with its relationships. Everyone is really friendly and there is a great sense of camaraderie between staff. My supervisor organized “Union Solidarity Night” a couple weeks ago at a local drinking establishment in order to boost morale since so many of our staff have been organizing in Indiana; I guess she felt that the office is lonelier than usual. I think with the work that we’re doing—the long hours, the confrontational nature of it, the lack of formal structure in many cases—it’s necessary to create a deep bond between the workers. I am beginning to take on a fairly strong workplace identity myself and I see that my co-workers are near to having "Union" tattooed within a heart on their shoulder (I can’t say that I’m quite there yet). So here, I love it. And if Ann and I have a talk until 8:30pm about the nature of the organizing conversation, so much for the better that it happen over a plate of nachos.

This culture is similar to my placement last year at a small (3.5 person staff) community organization. We had staff lunches occasionally and retreats and it was very well understood that we were interesting individuals with a life apart from work that could well bleed into our jobs to give us some dimension. I appreciate having these experiences as it gives me hope that there are plenty of workspaces that are functional (or perhaps dysfunctional, but at least effective) and satisfying to work in. But then again, I work with a group of people who are mostly within my socio-economic status and educational background. That’s a totally inaccurate description actually--I work alongside these individuals, but for the most part I’m working with Childcare Center owners and staff. And that is where the culture shock extends.

*Please point out any potentially misguided interpretations from a (formerly) suburban (currently) white young woman and let’s talk about them.

I had no familiarity with the race/class politics of Chicago before moving here a year ago. The spaces (read: sides of the city, neighborhoods, sides of the street) are clearly delineated. They are well marked on maps that you can buy in any tourist shop or museum in the area as well as by sight alone. The example that most clearly stands out in my memory is from my first walk around the neighborhood with my fellow Avodah roommates. We walked down Winemac Ave towards the el stop when we got to Broadway. Our side, the Andersonville side, was neat, grassier, with well-kept houses. Across the street, the Uptown side, was trash-littered, starker, and dingier-seeming. There are many areas of the city where the gradation of income between neighborhoods is less gradual and much more striking. There is also a strong sentiment of where “good” neighborhoods are and what areas are dangerous. The violent crimes are often localized to the south and west sides of the city, but I think many people attribute the crime to the residents of those areas than to the natural repercussions (poverty, gangs, food deserts, shitty schools, foreclosed properties) of segregated and oppressed neighborhoods.

The first two days of work I spent door-knocking with another staff member on the South side. I was so excited! Having organized in one of the wealthiest parts of Chicago, I was eager to finally have a “real” experience on a notoriously dangerous side. Yes, stupid of me, I know. Yes, stupid that half of a city could be considered notoriously dangerous, I know. Yes, stupid that I hadn’t given half a thought to the possibility that the precept might be based on racism, classism, and unfamiliarity and not on reality, I know. There was no danger. There was little intrigue. There were mostly streets of brick houses where no one was home and it was boring. There were occasionally residents home—who were polite, and approximately half of those were politely not interested.

I think it would be a disservice (and inaccurate) to ignore differences that I did notice and just pretend that everything is the same everywhere. There were many homes with boarded-up windows and doors that had been foreclosed. Anecdotally, there are some streets where every other home has been foreclosed. There are more currency exchanges and loan offices than banks. There are fewer el stops. These things seem to have a great deal of systemic causes perchance. Thoughts?

Culturally (maybe?), after work/school there were many people outside their homes talking to each other and walking between houses. This could be cultural; it could also be because it’s easier to sit on the front porch of a house rather than an apartment building. I don’t know. Nearly everyone we passed on the predominately residential streets said hello or how are you. I felt self-conscious about it initially—oh, I am white and clearly don’t live here. But then I noticed that folks were saying hi to most everyone. Again, it could be cultural; it could also be that we were in a residential area where people were more likely to know their neighbors personally. I don’t know, but it did feel similar to walking around Rogers Park (large orthodox Jewish neighborhood) on Saturday afternoon and passing residents on their Shabbas walk and saying a quick shalom. Community, knowing each other, shared identity?

Ha, re-reading this, it all seems so ridiculous—I’m shocked and amazed when neighbors say hello. But really, for the large part people don’t greet each other in my neighborhood. They have one afternoon a year allotted for a block party where they pretend that this is a normal and functional way of living in a community. I wish we did say hello. Maybe I’ll start? Informal community organizing on my block?