<p>I wrote an essay about three months ago and it was received with mixed reviews. I just finished it up so here it goes. Respond with comments and questions.</p>
<p>Her name is Ghetto. She is a person and place, wrapped up in one. She is beautiful yet sometimes tragically ugly. She has influenced me indelibly and my outlook on the world. Some are captivated by her eyes and are swept up into her arms, never leaving her embrace. Some are disgusted with her, forgetting her and casting her aside shamelessly. It would be so easy to do both but our relationship is much deeper than that. Our relationship is to complex to have these simple passions. Our great relationship is multifarious.
She has been in my life ever since I could remember. I grew up with her and thought I knew her better than I knew myself. Nevertheless, our relationship has been passionate and tempestuous. She would always make me self-conscious in front of people. She was, for a time, associated with everything I hated. She lived in public housing and wore two hundred dollar sneakers. When ever I saw her, she was always flamboyant. She was unbearable to be around for even a couple of minutes. </p>
<p>I hated everything she stood for. Throughout my middle school years, we didnt talk. When we did, it was always in a confrontational way. I sermonize about her faults and she would cast my intelligence as acting white. However, we did know one another quite well. I knew her dangerous presence and menacing glare. She knew my once haughtiness and arrogant personality. I tried to deny her existence and when she waved, I looked away with antipathy and disgust. </p>
<p>I tried to understand her but I just could not. I always asked to myself why she was who she was. I always came to one conclusion: It was her fault. To me, there was no other explanation. She was on welfare because she was lazy. She had five adolescent children because she loose. She drank because she was pathetic. She didnt finish high school because she was dumb. She was who she was because of herself. </p>
<p>However, that explanation was not enough for me. I read book after book trying to see who she was. From reading Shelby Steele to Malcolm X, I searched desperately to make some sense of Ghetto and people like her. The search for an answer was maddening. I had this battle throughout my high school years. It was a battle for my soul and future. This question nagged at me thorough subtle and not too subtle ways. Ghetto kept rearing her head in everything I did. My understanding of her came in the most simple of ways. </p>
<p>The Fresh Prince of Bel Air came on. The episode showed how Phillip Banks mother and father came from the South to watch Phillip get a prestigious award. The mother brought up some of the antics of Phillips childhood and some aspects of Phillips childhood that he would have liked to forget such as how he won the pig catching contest. Phillip became embarrassed and when Will Smith told this aspects to a reporter who was doing a story about him winning the award, Phillip said something to the point that he didnt want to be known as some country ass bumpkin. His mother overheard him and was furious with Phillips denoucal of his past. The show ends with Phillip giving a speech acknowledging his past and coming to grips with it. </p>
<p>Watching that, I gained an understanding of Ghetto that no book had conveyed to me. My hatred for her was wrong. Just like Phillip, I refused to acknowledge her because I wanted to forget her. Like some many others, I wanted to down cast her and look down upon her. As a youngster, with no one to look down upon, she became a convenient outlet for all of my frustrations and anger toward my poverty and station in life. With my eyes on the prize, I swiftly rejected her as the antithesis of all of my hopes and aspirations. With all of my energy focused on where I wanted to go, I forgot where I came from. </p>
<p>Now I dont want to think that by just watching a show, I did a 360 on how I interacted with Ghetto. However, that show gave me understanding on how people like Ghetto feel when people forget and downgrade her. When reading about her, I would be looking to see what her problem was. I would say that I found compassion but that involves a sense of paternalism. Our relationship has gotten better because I understand her now. I treat her like an equal and not as if I am better than her. </p>
<p>That show was an ephiany for me. It conjured up emotions that I hadnt felt when dealing with her. I forgot that I rose from people like Ghetto. I forgot my success is built on the backs of people who couldnt do what I know take for granted. I forgot the friendships that my community forged. I forgot that I am a product of Ghetto. Ghetto, for all of her faults, understands me and my struggles. I forgot all of times I came to Ghetto and she would embrace me as a son. She has done so much that forgetting her would be a crime. As much as I used to hate her, I am the child of Ghetto.</p>