headphones, murals, and embodying change

I'm coming to you today from the front patio of a coffee shop in Downtown San Jose. I just moved tables in order to keep an eye on my car, because parking is hard and I think I might've parked too close to the fire hydrant. I forgot headphones, which almost made me turn around, but instead (as reminded by my best friend that "sometimes it is good to forget headphones"), I get the simple pleasure of eavesdropping, of listening to the wind rustling the trees and the buses driving past and the peace of just listening. There's a man and woman (I'm pretty sure on their first date), two parents and their grown daughter laughing and reminiscing about her childhood, two golfer men who just met at this place for lunch and were so excited to see each other. So many lives! So many stories! That concept always baffles me- the fact that there are one million people in this city, and they are all living their own lives that are important, connected, and full. Lives that we will never know about.

I think that's why I'm feeling so grateful to be in a new place. After a whole first week of work (insanity), I am struck by the beautiful things happening here, friends! The community in East San Jose that City Year serves alongside embodies the way we all ought to be for each other; they are resilient, creative, problem solvers, people who have not been dealt the best cards, but people- students, parents, friends, neighbors- working to empower each other to fill the needs of their own community. They've created libraries, resource centers, murals (see photo!), and committees that organize and change policies. They are unashamedly, unitedly passionate for social justice like no other people I have ever met. And it's all in the name of their children who are surrounded by language that batters them down- "sad people living sad lives who won't ever be able to succeed"- language spoken by people who don't know them and who don't care to. But, as I have learned this first week, they are a community whose foundational flame of social change (Cesar Chavez began his work here!) is still ablaze. I should mention here that there is still so much that I do not know about the community and do not want anyone to assume otherwise, and this single paragraph does not do them justice. But! From the little that I do know, I could not be more honored to join in this work.

City Year itself is nothing short of amazing. Surrounded by incredibly outgoing staff and coworkers who are primarily women under thirty-five- and mostly women of color- I am loving every second. This is exactly where God wants me to be; it is the ground floor of kingdom work! Stories at the core, an emphasis on grace and compassion. Empowered people looking towards empowering other people. Training has included presentations on logistical elements of the job, but also presentations on trauma, school to prison pipelines, community walks, parent panels, diversity and identity, and so much more. City Year cares about people. I know that probably seems obvious, but gosh I'm sitting here outside the cafe smiling to myself because here I am in California of all places working on the inside of the good work God is doing through people I didn't know existed in April, or even a week ago! AMAZING.

Anyways. If you're still with me, and I hope you are, there is one other story I wanted to share with you. If you know me well, you know that sometimes I have a hard time trusting myself and have to work actively against feeling inadequate for the task set before me. It's especially tempting to feel like that in City Year, just because my coworkers seem much more qualified to do the work (I'm talking people who've majored in social work, or educational policy or that sort of thing) than me, an artist who is only recently passionate about social justice and is still learning so much. One day last week, all of us were asked to craft what City Year calls our "Why I Serve" statement, a mini manifesto that names the heart behind our service, something we can refer to when people ask us why we are doing this work for no money, or when things get hard and we ourselves have forgotten why we are here. I was too afraid to share mine with my group- afraid other people's would be better than mine- but later one of the staff came up to me and told me that she was moved by reading my statement, and was grateful to have me on the team this year. God knows I need people like that! (and seriously, thank you thank you to any professor or other adult reading this who has encouraged me to trust myself. I would not be here without you). All that to say, I want to end my (somewhat long-winded, sorry) post today with my "Why I Serve Statement," to share with you why I'm doing what I'm doing in this city with people who are starting to not be strangers:

I serve because I am answering the call to love the people no one else does. I serve because all students deserve to be fully seen, fully known, and fully loved. I serve because words of hope and actions of grace are powerful tools in breaking down the walls of division. I serve for the stories the students need to tell and to accompany them as they navigate their own story and journey. I serve to join the plea for justice, to embrace difference instead of run from it, to be a fellow voice in the song of reconciliation. I serve because we must be the embodiment of the change we want to see. 

I'd love to dialogue with anyone who wants to know more about the work happening, and I'll be writing more about it in the future. We get school placements on Tuesday, and I can't wait. Until then, here's to forgetting my headphones more often, looking for new stories, remembering none of us are alone in this!

Feel free to comment, ask questions, etc. below!

Thanks for reading dear friends,

Alyssa

P.S. My car has not been towed or ticketed despite the nearness to the fire hydrant. Thank goodness.