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I was raised in a middle class family, in a middle class neighborhood. I remember there were a few events of note while living there. There was the old lady down the street who cremated her husband’s dead body in the backyard, and we all wondered what that ’smell’ was all day. There was the large postal box on the corner, that blew up, ejecting through a neighbor’s garage, and was heard/felt a city away. There were the wild dogs that mauled a child to death, and the wild fires that burned down the field across the street each year. All in all though, it was a pretty peaceful neighborhood.

At the age of 12, my family moved away to a little town of 1,200 people in the middle of the mountains. This was as well, fairly tame. Sure, there was a huge pot field being grown back behind our property, and the neighbor worked for men who drove in black tinted limousines, but it was not that bad.

I left home at the age of fifteen, and thus began my journey into the world of the economically challenged, and living in the domiciles that such live within. The landlords that never do the repairs, and the garbage littering the yards of one’s neighbors; these were the neighborhoods that many people do not like to venture within.

There are varying classes of ghettos though, and some are far worse than others. In the little town of 45,000 people where I lived as a teen, there were about four ghettos total within the city. I lived in a couple of them.

One of them was a motel, along a strip of run down cheap motels. Roaches ran freely about, years of meth filled the sticky carpet, and not so subtle decay was everywhere. A woman was shot to death in the phone booth that was in front, and the police claimed it was suicide.

Later, about the age of 19, I was to live in a ghetto along the Mexican/American border. I truly believe I was the only white person living in that particular neighborhood, which was predominantly Hispanic and black.

This area could be compared to areas in New York, or Chicago, as it really was a dangerous place to be living. Fearless as I always am though, I walked those streets alone, at all hours of the day or night. The only altercation I had ever found myself in, involved people that I previously knew to be friends, never a random violent encounter.

Later, many years later, I was to live on one of the most notorious of streets in America, well known for it’s gangs and prostitutes. I lived here with my husband at the time, and our two children. The local controlling gang let us know that they were there to protect us from the Crips, and they would do what appeared to be patrols and recruitment. My children were given money from prostitutes, and gifts from gang members.

One day while living in this area, a man ran into our house via the back door. He was seeking concealment from the local police, from which he was running. We informed him this was not an option, and he ran out through the front door.

A young child gang came by quite regularly, to abuse and steal from the other younger children. These children threatened with knives, and were quite the young thugs. At one point my children inadvertently witnessed the raping of the woman who owned and ran the motel in which we lived.

The woman across the way was beating her young son, and letting him wander the main drag for hours without even bothering to look for him.

To be perfectly honest, I have lived in quite a number of ghettos, and I actually prefer most of them, to the lower/middle class better end apartments and domiciles.

There are some major differences between the ‘classes’ as we call them. Most will take note of the ghetto being predominantly of races other than Caucasian. Many of these peoples still speak the languages of their native tongue, and live just as they would in the countries from which they came.

It is well apparent that ghettos are very community oriented, and you will rarely find a ghetto, where people are not out doing things together. I have taken note that though this is true of white ghettos, no where near that of other cultures.

Middle class neighborhoods have some social networking going on, but it is very limited, and no where near as impromptu. Upper class neighborhoods have no social interaction, and fences too high to allow for neighborly chatter. Yes, it is the ghettos where you will find real community.

In a ghetto, people do not typically call the police, but tend to deal with the local justice, if needed, on their own. Police tend to alienate a community’s members, whereby direct intervention tends to bring it ultimately closer. For example, the tribal villages, whereby women would converge to beat the husband, who had beaten his wife. He learns to behave himself, and the women are empowered.

People in ghettos are quite colorful, and nowhere near as boring as those who live in their sterile little homes, safe from all danger. They are tough, and they can take care of themselves. These people have real experiences, and do not have to rely on a TV show to show them what ‘reality’ is. Oddly enough, most ghetto residents have quite good manners, and are very respectful of one another.

I write this blog, as I have once again, ended up in yet another ghetto. It is quite a large spread of apartments and town homes, and it seems thus far, we(my daughter and I) are some of the only white residents within it’s many buildings. It is being renovated, and improved, but I know that it will still be what it is, a ghetto.

Last night I walked the streets as I always do, and I walked in confidence, knowing, that I had nothing to fear. I never have feared, and I have never had a problem, living in the ghetto. It is only he who fears it, that has something to fear. The ghetto is a pretty cool place.

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