Watts Riot

I'm chilling right now in Santa Monica, where the grass is like carpet, the sand like gold, and the palm trees are eight stories tall. I'm staying on the ninth floor in one of only two high rises in the region with a view of the beach, the Santa Monica Pier (complete with a ferris wheel that puts on a light show at night), and the surrounding mountains (at least on the more clear days). I hadn't thought about how grungy my style was until I walked down Main Street and realized that all the clothes in my backpack probably cost less than one dress in the storefront windows. I had to chuckle to myself about the looks the Nader sticker on my laptop draws, but unlike Seattle no one here approaches me for a political debate.

The opulence blows my mind, especially after my visit to Watts yesterday. My friends Connor and Lauren from Seattle are living in LA while Lauren attends a premed program at USC, so Connor came and picked me up for an adventure. We drove to Watts to see what the 42nd annual Watts Summer Festival had to offer. Pulling up on Compton Ave we were surprised to see so many police cars surrounding the area, but we saw tents up ahead so we parked the car and walked up to the stage where a talented but obviously nervous African American girl was belting out love songs over pre-recorded samples. Connor and I noticed quietly that we were the only white people in a crowd besides the police, but no one seemed to pay any attention to us.

The festival was small and quiet, mostly comprised of young families, but the police presence was huge. As we wandered away from the stage, it felt like there were more uniforms than kids. I was tempted to ask why so many cops had been hired to cover the event, but they didn't look like the approachable type. So after a few pop/soul songs by 17 year old artists we decided to bounce.

Our next stop, the Watts Towers, shed some light on the situation. The Watts Towers have come to be a community symbol for the struggle toward social justice in the diverse but economically impoverished area of the city (see photos). Built by an Italian cement worker who spent something like 50 years constructing them, the Watts towers are a collage of ceramic and glass pieces intricately laid into delicate cement pillars. A timeline depicting the history of the area encircles the fenced off area that guards the towers. I learned that African Americans fled to the area during the great depression, that Japanese were herded out of the area during WWII, and there has always been a steady trickle of Mexicans pouring into Watts. The most surprising block was one that read "1965 Watts Riots".

I looked up the Watts Riots and found this article published on Democracy Now! that I recommend reading: http://www.democracynow.org/2005/8/12/the_fire_this_time_the_watts

I did not spend enough time in Watts to determine how the neighborhood has changed over the last 43 years, but the fact that there were at least 30 white cops monitoring a predominately African American community festival of no more than 150 people seems to say that some of the problems remain the same. Injustice remains and I return to the 9th floor with a balcony...

Qué es lo que queremos? Justicia! Cuando la queremos? Ahora!