The Stories We Tell

by Nicole Ricks

I found myself in the Bookcellar a few weeks ago for an art event called "Essay Fiesta." Even though I was attending the event for my Arts in the City class, I was quite excited about my first foray into Chicago's live lit scene. "Essay Fiesta" is exactly what it sounds like….a bunch of people reading first-person, non-fiction essays. I know it sounds outrageously boring, but honestly it was fantastic.
 
One of the authors was reading an essay about her encounter with a homeless man outside of the Urban Outfitters on Rush Street. Richard was an injured veteran who couldn't find any work. The author went into great detail describing how mangled and gnarled his feet were. And the guy didn’t own a pair of shoes either. The author and her friend went into Urban Outfitters and bought him clothes with money out of their own pockets.

I frequent this Urban Outfitters a lot. It's location on Rush Street is incredibly close to the apartment building. Yet I had never seen Richard there before. The author's story was exactly that - a story. Even though it was true and I walked past it's location all the time, it seemed so beyond me. So outside of me.  Like nothing that I would ever encounter or need to respond to.

But then it happened. I saw Richard outside of the Urban Outfitters on a Friday evening on my way back from work. I recognized his mangled feet from the author's description at "Essay Fiesta." I felt like I was seeing a celebrity in a backwards, twisted sort of way. The poverty described in the story from "Essay Fiesta" was right in front of me. And I didn't know what to do.

Poverty and homelessness is never something I encountered back home in Michigan. It just doesn’t happen as often in the small towns that I've always lived in. But it's something that is absolutely ingrained into Chicago's culture. Each person who lives here has to decide for themselves how they will respond.

I don’t think giving money or food or clothing to homeless people is the only way to bless them or help them. After some prayerful consideration when I arrived in the city, I decided I would give them my time and attention and respect instead.

So many people just completely ignore the homeless people on the streets of Chicago and don’t even acknowledge their presence. I can’t even begin to imagine how that would feel day after day after day. So I've decided that every time I pass a homeless person, I will look them in the eyes and smile. It's such a simple gesture of respect and acceptance, but I know that even when a stranger smiles at me it makes my day.

So that’s what I did when I encountered Richard. I looked at his eyes - not his gnarled feet that held the attention of the other people passing by.

It's All Good In The Neighborhood

by Nicole Ricks

Did you know the city of Chicago is made up of dozens of neighborhoods?

Each Practicum Group is given a different neighborhood to explore and experience throughout the semester. My group is learning about Lawndale - which is on the southwest side of Chicago. Our first experience was to attend a church service. A hip hop church service. On a dark and dreary Saturday night, my group made the 45 minute trek to the neighborhood. As I watched out the window of the El train, the scenery was noticeably changing. No more skyscrapers. A lot less people. A lot less white people. Lawndale is primarily an African-American neighborhood. (Chicago is extremely segregated - quite possibly the most segregated city in America to this day.)

My practicum got off the train. It's dark. It's the southwest side of Chicago notoriously known for being sketchy. A lot of us are feeling a little uneasy as we make our way to The House, a ministry of Lawndale Community Church. Our group at least quadruples the Caucasian population in the congregation. Someone's rapping onstage. People are dancing in the aisles. Our group is sitting quietly in our seats. And then one of the worship leaders calls us out as the "Caucasian Evangelicals sittin' all tight." Everyone turns to stare at us and laugh.

To be honest, most of us came away from that experience with a bad taste in our mouth for the neighborhood of Lawndale. It's segregated.  A lot of crime happens. There are quite a few vacant lots. There's no grocery store.  But a couple weeks later, we were back.

This time my practicum group was learning about the assets of the neighborhood through the staff at Lawndale Christian Development Center and Lawndale Community Church. These organizations have done so much for the city. They've built a garden. Started a health clinic that will service anyone. Opened a café that sells fresh fruits and veggies. Brought Lou Malnati's Pizzeria and got them to tithe 10% of their profits to the ministries.

At first glance, Lawndale seemed unpleasant and unwelcoming. But it is so far from that. This neighborhood has such strong community values. Everyone knows everybody and watches out for them. The Christian ministries are central to every day life. It doesn't seem like you're in Chicago let alone the southwest side.

Each neighborhood in Chicago is so unique. Want a hipster feel? Go to Wicker Park. Want a melting pot of cultures? Go to Rogers Park. Want some top-notch Greek food? Go to Greek Town. Want a small-town feel? Go to Lawndale.

http://www.orkposters.com/chicago.html