A Long Way from Crenshaw

A Personal Word
Straight Outta Crenshaw
As a chaplain in the United States Army and former staff member for Rep. Sander Levin (Michigan) and Rep. Maxine Waters (California), I have had the opportunity to travel throughout the United States and abroad. I have visited places I never would have imagined and experienced situations that have left an indelible mark on my soul. Yet despite this incredible dynamic, I remain straight outta Crenshaw and unashamedly connected to all that it represents: the good, the bad, the ugly, and the amazing.
To be honest, if someone had told me on June 17, 1982, the day I graduated (barely) from Susan Miller Dorsey Senior High School, that I would one day become a source of inspiration for others, I would have laughed out loud. Seriously, I would not have believed it if someone told me that I would be selected to give a speech during the Pan-African Studies Department’s Black Graduation ceremony at California State University, Northridge (CSUN); receive graduate degrees from Howard University School of Divinity and Princeton Theological Seminary; write opinion columns for USA Today; work as a congressional aide for the US House of Representatives; have a brief conversation about faith with President George W. Bush; meet Bobby Seale, a cofounder of the Black Panther Party; discuss the movie Roots and the importance of family with Alex Haley; be invited to give a lecture at Presbyterian Theological Seminary in Seoul, South Korea; preach a four-day revival in Japan; baptize soldiers in Baghdad, Iraq; serve Holy Communion in Kuwait; visit Ur, an ancient Sumerian city on the Euphrates (in modern-day Iraq); visit the birth home of the prophet Abraham; and witness the inauguration of the first African American president. I would have responded by saying, “What kind of fool do you take me for?” But like a Walt Disney movie, this fairy tale came true and serves as a reminder: “With God, all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26 NIV).
While these experiences, as well as a host of others, have broadened my horizons, they by no means overshadow the fact that at the end of the day, minus the titles and accolades, I am and forever will be Sweetie Pie’s second grandchild, a boy from the hood who grew up in the Crenshaw district, the unofficial capital of South Central Los Angeles. And even though I haven’t lived in the community for over thirty years, I still consider it home.
Crenshaw’s boundaries are roughly Van Ness and Arlington Avenues on the east, Exposition Boulevard on the north, La Brea Avenue near Baldwin Hills on the west, and roughly Stocker Street and Slauson Avenue on the south. From birth, October 21, 1964, through my first few years as a college student at CSUN in the mid-1980s, I hustled up and down the streets of this magical place. Most of my time was spent hanging out with the homies, but as I grew older, my focus changed. My number one priority was to do my best to stay out of trouble and live to see the next day. Of course, back then, I had no clue that the core of my political, social, and religious beliefs was being shaped on these exciting and often unforgiving streets.
African Americans started arriving in the Crenshaw district in the 1960s, and by the 1970s, they were the majority. Crenshaw has significant middle-class areas, like Leimert Park, and some low-income areas, such as Baldwin Village, also called the Jungle because of the tropical trees that saturate the community. When my parents divorced in 1973, my mother, brother, sister, and I moved to the Jungle and lived in an apartment building called the Robin, located at 4828 August Street. During the weekend, you could hear R & B music being played from several apartments. As I recall, Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” was in heavy rotation back then. The neighborhood was and still is home of a notorious gang called the Black Peace Stones, also known as the Bloods, enemy of the Crips. According to gang researcher Alex Alonso:
Black Peace Stones first emerged in California in 1969 and operated in the West Adams area of Los Angeles near Crenshaw Boulevard. Over the years they grew into one of the larger gangs in South Central Los Angeles. There are an estimated 700 members of the Black Peace Stones and most of them live in the Jungle.
After my mother recovered economically from the divorce, about a year later, we moved to Leimert Park and lived in a modest and well-kept triplex apartment on the corner of Ninth Avenue and Santa Barbara Boulevard (later Martin Luther King Boulevard). On a clear, sunny, and smog-free day, I could gaze out the living room window and see the Hollywood sign, which was approximately ten miles from our house. Like many Angelenos, I was mesmerized by the symbolism associated with this significant landmark. It was the shiny, sparkling object that not only exemplified success but teased me daily. Back then, I couldn’t resist the temptation to want lights, cameras, and action.
Today, I’ve lived long enough to know that the right road is the only path that leads to true success. Unfortunately, at times, to experience instant success, I traveled down the wrong road, only to be deterred by human angels, like a family member, teacher, or concerned neighbor. In each instance, I was able to get back on the right road, which at times was boring and not always paved with glitter and glam. But if you keep the faith and stay the course, this tried and true road will take you to a better place.
Four years later, my infatuation with the Hollywood sign ended when my mother purchased a cozy single-family house on Sixth Avenue, a couple of blocks from our previous home. A year later, in 1979, she received a master of arts degree in early childhood education from California State University, Dominguez Hills. Slowly but surely, the tide was beginning to turn, and now education, not the Hollywood sign, was the index I used to measure success.