Writing can be such a solitary pursuit, trapping you in the limitlessness of your mind, isolating you from the outside world and all that’s in it.
And with this Coronavirus mess still raging on, that’s all the more reason to stay inside.
But uh, rah, there’s only so much a girl can take. When you spend the majority of your day looking like this…
…and this…
It’s time to get out of the house – or apartment in my case. But anyway. That’s exactly what I did.
I decided to take a little trip to my old stomping grounds – the place I spent the first 13 years of my life, 18 if you throw in my time in neighboring Inglewood. That’s right, I headed for the Westside, Westside – South Central Los Angeles.
While South Central has been world famous (more like infamous) for drugs and gang violence – especially in the 80s and 90s when I called it home – I honestly didn’t experience any of that.
I loved my neighborhood. I loved growing up there. I never saw anyone shot or stabbed, never saw any drugs or drug addicts (I believe they also call them crackheads) or the like. There were just hardworking people, with neat homes and manicured lawns, where everybody knew their neighbors’ names even if sometimes they didn’t say hi, all though most of the time they did. I was never afraid there. I felt like I was part of a community.
That’s not to say we didn’t exercise safety precautions. We had bars on our windows, which I initially thought were for decoration not security. They were on all sides of the house except for the front where the living and dining rooms were, as my mom didn’t find them to be aesthetically pleasing. The living room windows were standard, but the dining room’s big picture window was outfitted with bulletproof glass, care of my grandfather, a contractor.
Even though my mom also exercised her second amendment rights, as a child I didn’t really understand the implications such safety measures had on my neighborhood, especially since no one ever broke in our house, we never dodged a drive-by and Momma never had to bust a cap in nobody’s ass. Just sayin’.
So you see, for me, it was a great place to be a kid. A great place to be immersed around black people and black American culture in a way that I’m not today.
While a lot of the area has changed since I lived there, and gentrification seems to be inching in, enough of it has stayed the same to feed my soul in a way that only your hometown can. Enough to beckon me to return, time and time again.
First stop Leimert Park Plaza. Perched on the corner of Crenshaw and Vernon, you may recognize this location from the opening credits of the late 90s early 2000s sit-com “Moesha“.
Whenever we’d traveled down Crenshaw in this area, I used to love seeing this park and its fountain. Though it’s now gated (I’m not sure why that is, or when and if they let people in), and barely visible off of Crenshaw, it’s still an iconic landmark in South Central LA. I’ve passed by that park countless times, even went to kindergarten and first grade a hop, skip and a jump away, yet on the park’s actual grounds I’ve never been.
Just north and perpendicular to the park is Degnan Blvd. There you’ll find a couple of cute little shops and cafes — along with sidewalk vendors, art, murals and more — accompanied by block-party style music thumping as you make your way down the street.
I went on a Monday, because if I’ma get out of the house, I might as well take pictures, and you know I don’t like to take pictures when there’s a bunch of people around (and if you don’t know, now you know). Thankfully, people were scarcely around – much less than the scores I encountered a few months ago when I went on a Saturday.
I planned on stopping by Ackee Bamboo Jamaican Cuisine, but unfortunately they were closed. They have great smoothies, and I wanted to try their food as well, which I’ve read great things about. Since it was closed, I headed on down to Eso Won Books, an independent bookstore that has been a staple in the community for many years. The atmosphere in that shop felt like stepping into an 80s Spike Lee movie, surrounded by books from black authors with a background of bluesy jazz music.
From there I took a look at some of the murals and artwork you can find scattered about.
And of course, my fake candid pose.
and another…
What I also love about this area are the tree-lined streets and the architecture of the houses and apartment buildings, perfect for an afternoon stroll…
…or mischief in the middle of the road.
From there, I headed on over to Simply Wholesome off of Slauson and Overhill. It’s actually another place I’ve never been, even though in high school one of my friends lived right down the street, and we’d pass it on foot all the time on our way to or from the bus.
Yet once I arrived, the parking lot was pretty full, so I headed down La Brea to Inglewood instead, where I happened upon Hilltop from “Insecure” and Issa Rae fame. But when I passed up a good parking spot off of Regent, I didn’t turn back around. I ended up taking a right on Market St. in search of Sip & Sonder. By that time I was craving a chocolate chip cookie.
But alas, I didn’t see it, and I don’t use GPS, because this is the old neighborhood, and I should be familiar. Finally, I just kept rolling down the street until I came upon Woody’s (my camerawoman, aka mother, made me stop there) and finished the day off with a cone from Foster Freeze.
From there, with food in my belly and food for my soul, I headed home.
I gotta say it was a good day.
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