The less fortunate kids

42% of children in New Orleans live in poverty.

42%.

I can't wrap my head around that statistic.

Nearly 1 in 2 children I see scurrying around the streets in New Orleans go home to scarce food, minimal clothing, over-crowded rooms, etc. Sometimes, the children don't have a home to go to at all. These children are either living in a car, an abandoned building, an emergency shelter, or out on the streets.

My childhood was amazing—and I’m not saying that to brag, I’m saying it to try to put this stat into perspective. I had plenty of toys to play with (probably more than any child should have), I had a pool and a bicycle, roller skates and a Barbie car, my own room, a television in the family room, a computer in the basement, an endless collection of Beanie Babies and Pogs, all of the American Girl dolls that were made at the time, plenty of food and snacks in the cabinet, and much, much more. I went on vacation every year with my family to the Dude Ranch, and sometimes I would go visit my grandparents in Florida, or my best friend in Cape Cod. When I was a pre-teen we bought our shore house. When I was 17 I had my own car. I also had my entire education paid for by my parents—including a private elementary school and high school.

I’ve been privileged, and I hope that everyone reading this is reminiscing on their childhood memories, thinking back on what toys they unwrapped under the Christmas tree, or how the floor of your room was adorned with action figured and Barbies, or how that trip to Disney was one of the best weeks of your life.

It pains me that 42% of the children in New Orleans have nowhere near what I had as a child, or what most of you had as children—not even a small percentage of it.

Although New Orleans’ percentage is a lot higher than the national average, the percentage of children living in poverty in the US is still a painful number. In 2011, 22% of American children lived in poverty. That’s 16.1 million children. 16.1 million. Since 2000, the national number of poverty-stricken children has increased by 4.5 million.

The reason these statistics bother me so much is that when I explain what I do, a lot of people argue that the clients we help should be working and that they shouldn’t rely on handouts. And those arguments are correct in many cases. However, you cannot argue that for a child. These children are helpless, and sometimes hopeless. They shouldn’t be punished for their parents’ mistakes. But not all of the parents are unemployed, and not all of them rely on handouts. Nearly two-thirds of poor families with children have at least one working family member.

Most of the parents are trying. And that’s what pains me. They’re trying to give their children the life that they didn’t have. But when they can’t afford an education, it’s hard to nail down a job. And many will argue “they can take out a loan for college.” Yes, that’s true. But then they are left with the situation of finding time for classes whilst taking care of their children, and then finding a job, and then paying back their massive student loan debt, all while figuring out how to pay rent and continue to put food on the table, and enrolling their children in school themselves. Another stat to add to the mix: 40.9% of poor families are single-mother families. So on top of everything that normal families have to juggle, nearly half of these families need to also worry about someone watching their children while they take these classes or go to their jobs.

It’s obvious that these children’s lives are already a lot different than mine was back then (and now). It pains me that these innocent little adorable things are struggling day to day with luxuries that were simply handed to me. A lot of them are stronger than I will ever be, a lot of them will overcome their circumstances and their poverty, a lot of them will succumb to it, and a lot of them will continuously be searching for a way out—a way to eat, a way to be clothed, a way to have shelter, and simply a way to live.

The beauty of the Bayou

I had the pleasure of having my mom come for Easter. It was such an enjoyable trip and we did numerous fun things, including a nature walk at the Barataria Preserve. For those of you who have been keeping up with my blog, I posted photos from the same walk back in the fall. The walk was just as beautiful, if not more beautiful, this time as it was back then. Enjoy.

Tragedy in New Orleans

New Orleans is a dangerous place--one of the most dangerous places in America. A lot of violent crimes occur, but mostly those crimes are in select areas, areas that are easy to avoid. They are usually related to gangs or drug deals--also easy to avoid.

When I moved down here I was told to stay away from gangs, drugs, and bad neighborhoods and that I would be fine. I was also told never to travel by myself, especially through bad neighborhoods. Most of the time this is impossible to avoid. I go to and from work by myself on public transportation. One of my offices is in Central City, a not-so-nice area of New Orleans. Luckily, when I walk through these neighborhoods, the safety of sunlight accompanies me.

I was warned before I came down here by a co-worker that no matter the neighborhood, there was a high chance that I would get mugged. She said she wasn't trying to scare me, she was just trying to tell me the reality of New Orleans. She said she was mugged once in her own driveway, in a really nice part of town. Naturally, I was terrified, but so far I have been blessed. I have not been mugged nor have I been involved in any sort of crime, knock on wood. I've had a few encounters that have made me uncomfortable, but nothing to phone home about. In fact, when I did phone home about one of them, my dad immediately sent me pepper spray.

I've been living in a bubble. I keep thinking nothing is going to happen to me, I'm just an Americorps VISTA doing my time, serving America, helping New Orleans. However, my outlook has done a drastic 180 since I heard the news about what happened Monday night. A fellow Americorps NCCC member was gunned down and killed.

Joseph Massenburg, 18, just moved here on March 14 from Illinois to complete his service with Green Light New Orleans, an incredible nonprofit here that works to install energy-efficient lighting in low-income housing. He had recently graduated high school.

I remember my first month here. I was still learning my way around--in fact I was still getting lost every day. I was so excited to be here, to do my service, to learn about my agency, to make new friends, to experience the night life, to wander around, etc. It felt surreal--New Orleans is so different from New Jersey and Virginia. I was in the stages of soaking it all in, in fact I'm still in those stages.

Joseph hadn't even been here a month before he was gunned down for reasons unknown. He was a frequent volunteer back home, a very religious man, and so committed to serving that he moved here at the age of 18 to do so. Joseph hadn't been mixed up with the wrong crowds, hadn't been mixed up with drugs, and hadn't been walking in a terrible neighborhood. Granted, he was walking at 11:00 p.m. at night by himself, but I too have been guilty of that a few times.

Coming from a small town in the Midwest, Joseph probably felt invincible like I do sometimes. Crime wouldn't bother you if you didn't bother it--or something like that. Keep your nose out of other peoples' business and they won't bother you, right? I wish. The reality is that if someone wants to kill someone, and you're walking down the street by yourself, you're going to get killed, whether there was a motive or not. A lot of times in gang initiations, the motive is simply being initiated into a gang. You have no control over that. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The really wrong place, at the really wrong time.

My sincere condolences go out to Joseph's family. I can't even imagine, and I know when my parents read this post it will probably hit home for them. My parents remember when I moved down here, and I'm sure their biggest fear was what happened to Joseph. But don't worry, I'm home before 6:00 every night guys, as mom saw during her visit.

This was supposed to be one of the most rewarding, if not the most rewarding, years of Joseph's life. Instead, his life was taken away. As an Americorps member, I feel like we all have some sort of connection. We can all relate to one another--we're all a part of this little Americorps service family. Although I never had the pleasure of meeting Joseph, it pains me to have lost a brother. Rest in peace, I hope God welcomes you with open arms, as I'm sure he did.