Fostering Empathy: A Social Justice Journey [Audio Piece]

La Mexicana Rises from the Ashes [Final Draft]

 On November 7, 2012 flames illuminated the pre-dawn darkness in the Edison neighborhood as Francisco and Carmen Vargas' life work burned to the ground. Apparently sparked by weathered electrical wires in the basement, La Mexicana Market was scorched inside and out, resulting in a total loss.

Judy Sarkozy, the owner of Sarkozy's Bakery, which suffered its own fire in February of last year, was one of the first to arrive on the scene.

“It just broke my heart to see all the stuff that was ruined,” said Sarkozy who recounted watching a river of yellow masa wind its way across the blackness of the market floor.

“It affected all of us. That's our livelihood, that's our baby. We built it from the ground up, with no bank loans—nothing,” said Javier Vargas, Francisco and Carmen's son. We had to throw everything away: cans, produce, meat. It's a very dark feeling because your career, your life work—in four hours, it's gone.”

Nearly seven months later, on a warm, late-May afternoon, Javier and Judy stand in the doorway of Bell's brewery and shake the hands of community members who have arrived for a benefit in support of the rebuilding of the market.

Carmen Vargas moves about busily in a traditional white, embroidered Mexican dress, making her rounds through the crowd of people who fill the Bell's patio. She and her husband Francisco, hair neatly combed in a crisp red polo shirt, thank the community members for their donations in limited English, sell home-made ice cream, and direct the volunteers who have shown up to help out with the benefit.

“I could never have imagined the support that we received from the Kalamazoo community.” said Carmen, whose eyes welled up as she looked at the event around her.

The Vargas family came north to the United States in 1993 from Nayarit, Mexico looking for work and a chance at a brighter future. As Carmen Vargas, the family matriarch puts it: “We came for the same reason as many people all over the world. The opportunity for a better life.”

After first settling in Chicago, the family came to stay with relatives in Kalamazoo after Carmen suffered a broken arm and leg in a car accident while riding in a work van on her way to job. Driven to Michigan by unfortunate circumstances, the family never looked back and Kalamazoo has become their home for the last 18years.

“We got accustomed as quickly as possible. Since that moment, we began to become penguins” said Carmen who chuckled and smiled, referring to the shock of the Michigan climate.

Right away, Francisco saw that there was a market for goods that served the small and steadily-growing Hispanic population in Kalamazoo and he, his wife, and his sons began to sell Mexican products from Chicago out of the back of a truck.

“It was literally a mobile grocery store,” said their son Javier, who remembered that they began to sell exclusively to the Latinos in the Edison neighborhood. “We would go door-to-door every Sunday. We could count 15 houses and that was it. Maybe less than that.”

According to Javier, due to an influx of Hispanic immigration to the city and the expansion of their clientele to include other members of the community, the family achieved their dream of owning their own store when La Mexicana opened on the corner of Portage Road and Lane Blvd in 1998.

Since then, the Vargas family has opened a Restaurant, Mi Pueblo on Gull Road, an ice cream warehouse where they produce their own Mexican popsicles, and has two lunch trucks which visit work sites around the city.

“My dad's always been an entrepreneur,” said Javier. “He always said he'd rather work for himself than anyone else.”

Despite their success and expansion in recent years, Carmen said that the market was the heart of their business.

“The blow was huge, but not big enough to ruin our years of work, she said. “I tell my husband: 'We're like gladiators, we take a lot of hits, but we keep on going.”

For Carmen and Francisco, letting the market go was never an option and they have plans to rebuild what they started with the support of their neighbors. The family is currently dealing with the insurance company, but even with the money they will receive, they will still be short $75,000-$100,000 short of their goal, according to Javier.

The whole family expressed their determination to fight for the business that they love; the business where Javier grew up working the “cash register, butcher shop, taco stand, inventory, payroll—everything.”

“If you achieve something, it's because you worked hard and you believed in what you were doing,” said Carmen.

This hard work has paid off with the many community members who rushed to their side after hearing about the fire, including Noel Corwin, the owner of Gorilla Gourmet, and Laura Bell, the vice president of Bell's Brewery. Bell's donated their banquet and patio spaces free of charge and Corwin donated his time and pineapple chicken tacos for all those in attendance.

“I think they supported us because we're a local, family-run business. We have good principles. We're not there to rip people off or make a bunch of money. We help local schools and local police organizations. They see that from us and they appreciate it,” said Javier.

Noel Corwin, who frequented the market, praised the Vargas' business and was one of the first to commit to helping them do what he could to rebuild.

“Judy [Sarkozy] and myself were talking about it in December. When the conversation started, I said: 'Let's throw a big ass party.” said Corwin. “I think their business is essential to a town that's transitioning. It's one of the few places you see a mixture of culture.”

The mixture of culture that Corwin referred to was visible in the diversity of people who filled the benches at Bell's and waited eagerly to shake Carmen and Francisco's hands and give them well wishes.

“We are very blessed by God,” said Carmen. “We feel like we're not alone in this. It gave us a lot of motivation to keep on going.”

The $4,000 raised at the event last Saturday only scratches the surface for the Vargas family and will be put towards buying new merchandise for their makeshift store at the front of their restaurant.

“We would have been just as happy with $100,” said Javier. “It wasn't really for the money. Its just awesome how the community still supported us.”

Still, Carmen made it clear that they were going to keep on fighting to begin serving the community they love once again.

“Half of our heart is in our homeland and the other half is here in Kalamazoo,” she said.

Word Count: 1,139
Intended Publication: The Kalamazoo Gazette  

La Mexicana Process Writing

 I think it is fitting that this is the last piece that I write for this narrative journalism class. I do not say this because I think it is the best first draft that I have ever written; I say it because I feel I was able to put all of the skills that we learned in this class into action when I was working on reporting for this project.

Unlike my first profile, I knew right off the bat that I wanted to do a wide array of reporting and that I was going to have to start early if I wanted to get it all done. A couple of weeks ago, my friend lent me her car to run a few errands and I decided to seize the moment and stop by the Edison Neighborhood Association to see what was going on in the community. I already knew about the fire at La Mexicana, but it was them who tipped me off about the benefit and many other things that were going to be happening soon. Unsure of what direction to proceed in, I attended the Bell's benefit on a Saturday morning and I got to talk to a lot of amazing people. Originally, I did not think that I was going to write about the Vargas family, but something told me to go to the event anyways. I am so happy I did, because in talking to Carmen and her son Javier, I knew that there was a story to be told about their journey to the United States and all of the things that they have been able to accomplish.

After that day, I set up in-depth interviews with both Javier and Carmen. In addition, I collected information from Judy Sarkozy, Noel Corwin, and Laura Bell at the event itself. I am looking forward to putting together a more cohesive and organized final draft and I am interested to know everyone's thoughts during workshop. I am happy with the reporting I did, but I want to turn that reporting into a good piece of writing.  

La Mexicana Rises from the Ashes [First Draft]

On November 7, 2012 flames illuminated the pre-dawn darkness in the Edison neighborhood as Francisco and Carmen Vargas' life work burned to the ground. Apparently sparked by weathered electrical wires in the basement, La Mexicana Market was scorched inside and out, resulting in a total loss.

Judy Sarkozy, the owner of Sarkozy's Bakery, which suffered its own fire in February of last year, was one of the first to arrive on the scene.

“It just broke my heart to see all the stuff that was ruined,” said Sarkozy who recounted watching a river of yellow masa wind its way across the blackness of the market floor.

“It affected all of us. That's our livelihood, that's our baby. We built it from the ground up, with no bank loans—nothing,” said Javier Vargas, Francisco and Carmen's son. We had to throw everything away: cans, produce, meat. It's a very dark feeling because your career, your life work—in four hours, it's gone.”

Nearly seven months later, on a warm, late-May afternoon, Javier and Judy stand in the doorway of Bell's brewery and shake the hands of community members who have arrived for a benefit in support of the rebuilding of the market.

Francisco and Carmen move about busily in the patio outside the building, thanking people for their donations, selling home-made ice cream, and directing the volunteers who have shown up to help out with the benefit.

“I could never have imagined the support that we received from the Kalamazoo community.” said Carmen, whose eyes welled up as she looked at the event around her.

The Vargas family came north to the United States in 1993 from Nayarit, Mexico looking for work and a chance at a brighter future. As Carmen Vargas, the family matriarch puts it: “We came for the same reason as many people all over the world. The opportunity for a better life.”

After first settling in Chicago, the family came to stay with relatives in Kalamazoo after Carmen suffered a broken arm and leg in a car accident while riding in a work van on her way to job. Driven to Michigan by unfortunate circumstances, the family never looked back and Kalamazoo has become their home for the last 18years.

“We got accustomed as quickly as possible. Since that moment, we began to become penguins” said Carmen who chuckled and smiled, referring to the shock of the Michigan climate.

Right away, Francisco saw that there was a market for goods that served the small and steadily-growing Hispanic population in Kalamazoo and he, his wife, and his sons began to sell Mexican products from Chicago out of the back of a truck.

“It was literally a mobile grocery store,” said their son Javier, who remembered that they began to sell exclusively to the Latinos in the Edison neighborhood. “We would go door-to-door every Sunday. We could count 15 houses and that was it. Maybe less than that.”

According to Javier, due to an influx of Hispanic immigration to the city and the expansion of their clientele to include other members of the community, the family achieved their dream of owning their own store when La Mexicana opened on the corner of Portage Road and Lane Blvd in 1998.

Since then, the Vargas family has opened a Restaurant, Mi Pueblo on Gull Road, an ice cream warehouse where they produce their own Mexican popsicles, and has two lunch trucks which visit work sites around the city.

“My dad's always been an entrepreneur,” said Javier. “He always said he'd rather work for himself than anyone else.”

Despite their success and expansion in recent years, Carmen said that the market was the heart of their business.

“The blow was huge, but not big enough to ruin our years of work, she said. “I tell my husband: 'We're like gladiators, we take a lot of hits, but we keep on going.”

For Carmen and Francisco, letting the market go was never an option and they have plans to rebuild what they started with the support of their neighbors.

“If you achieve something, it's because you worked hard and you believed in what you were doing,” said Carmen.

The Vargas' hard work has paid off with many community members who rushed to their side after hearing about the fire, including Noel Corwin, the owner of Gorilla Gourmet, and Laura Bell, the vice president of Bell's Brewery. Bell's donated their banquet and patio spaces free of charge and Corwin donated his time and pineapple chicken tacos for all those in attendance.

“Judy [Sarkozy] and myself were talking about it in December. When the conversation started, I said: 'Let's throw a big ass party.” said Corwin. “I think their business is essential to a town that's transitioning. It's one of the few places you see a mixture of culture.”

The mixture of culture that Corwin referred to was visible in the diversity of people who filled the benches at Bell's and waited eagerly to shake Carmen and Francisco's hands and give them well wishes.

“We are very blessed by God,” said Carmen. “We feel like we're not alone in this. It gave us a lot of motivation to keep on going.”

The money raised at the event last Saturday only scratches the surface for the Vargas family and will be put towards buying new merchandise for their makeshift store at the front of their restaurant. Still, Carmen made it clear that they were going to keep on fighting to begin serving the community they love once again.

“Half of our heart is in our homeland and the other half is here in Kalamazoo,” she said.

Word Count: 961

Target Publication: The Kalamazoo Gazette 

Create Your Own Assignment: "How Gay Marriage Won"

http://swampland.time.com/2013/03/28/how-gay-marriage-won/

Working in the mail center has its pluses and minuses, but one of the benefits is constant contact with the various newspapers and magazines that students order to be delivered to them on a weekly basis. Sometimes, if the student for whom these publications are destined has since graduated, we the employees get to take them home with us to read. It is impossible to forward magazines and they would otherwise be thrown in a recycle bin--so hey, why not?

A couple of weeks ago, the cover of one of these magazines happened to catch my eye and prompted me to  crack it open and read further. That week's Time Magazine was printed in two different versions, each with a picture of a same-sex couple kissing and words overlaid in yellow, block print reading: "Gay Marriage Already Won." The article came out the week that the Supreme Court began to hear oral arguments for the Prop 8 and DOMA cases, and there was a clear reference to these events. I was intrigued to read further, eager to see what rationale they would use to defend such a big statement about an issue that still remains highly contested in the United States.

Although David Von Drehle's article is more of a long-form feature than a narrative piece, he employs gay peoples' experiences to further his point and put a human face to this broad issue which he tackles head-on. I think it is a great example of how the different genres of journalism can intersect to create something truly great. The piece includes history, politics, narrative, and on-site reporting, which Von Drehle then sews together to create a cohesive article. Most importantly, he uses all of this information to defend his bold claim  on the front of the issue.

This article caught my eye right from the beginning and I thought it was a really good read. I hope you enjoy it as well and I look forward to discussing it in class!

Fostering Empathy: A Social Justice Journey [Final Draft]

Lillie Wolff teeters with full arms and makes her way into St. Basil's Catholic Church in South Haven, Mich—a balancing act of posters, papers, buttons, and baked goods. The pastries are from a local bakery in Kalamazoo and the lemonade is made from certified organic lemons. She enters a large, empty room filled six rows deep with chairs and a turquoise-blue crucifix that hangs high in the back of the room and sets everything down. She looks around, takes a breath, and begins to set up.

Tonight she is representing Welcoming Michigan, a foundation that focuses on migrant worker outreach in the rural Southwest Michigan community; but she is not here to educate immigrants, she is here to educate Americans on their role in ending xenophobia and discrimination. Her only prior advertisement comes from word of mouth, from church groups like the ones at St. Basil's, and from the local South Haven newspaper. The room slowly fills with an elderly, Anglo crowd and Lillie welcomes them, smiles and keeps breathing. People are watching, but Lillie is not sure they are listening, so she clears the air.

“Just to let you all know before I begin, I'm okay,” she says as she smiles nervously, scanning the crowd.

Lille was only 14 when her hair began to fall out. She remembers it falling out in clumps until she “didn't have enough left to have a full head of hair.” It was the summer before high school when she had to shave it all off and she covered her head with wigs until she was a senior. She remembers facing it bravely, “stoically” as she puts it, but below the surface she struggled with the potential of getting judged for being different.

Alopecia is an autoimmune disease that attacks Lillie's hair follicles and causes her hair to fall out at random, leaving her patchy. Although purely cosmetic, it may have left more marks on her internally then externally.

“I think my Alopecia has led me to understand what it's like to be different, outside the parameters of what mainstream wants to say is acceptable or in the in-group,” she said.

Lillie is an artist, an advocate, and an instructor. She moves about busily in a flowing black dress, dangling earnings that she hand-crafted, her piercing blue eyes fixed on the crowd that shuffles out of the room at St. Basil's.

“Well...I think that went pretty well,” she says with a big smile.

Events like these are the cornerstone of Lillie's work. During 45 minutes, she shows a short documentary about the migrant farm work situation in Van Buren County and fields discussion questions. Some make statements rather than ask questions, some are kind and others are not, but Lillie keeps cool under the pressure. The event ends and Lillie pours herself a glass of organic lemonade.

Lillie believes in the power of nature. It was during a college orientation expedition in the wilderness in 1999 when her hair began to come back. It started growing and for years it didn't stop. If you flip back though a college yearbook, you will find her smiling with the same smile, staring out with the same blue eyes, but with long hair caressing her shoulders.

“I like to think that it was nature,” said Lillie who for years tried a slew of herbal supplements and healing massages, believing with all her might that she had the power to bring her hair back. She now likes to believe that all she needed to do is to let go.

Although her hair began to fall out once again when she was 25 and has not since returned, Lillie has found peace with her condition. Her experience with prejudice has been formative and she channels her can-do attitude into her work, advocating for those at the margins of society.

“She has a strong sense of justice and empathy for folks,” said Chris Moore, Lillie's partner of three years. He remembers early on in their relationship when a man on a bicycle approached her after a concert at the Arcadia Creek Festival Place and harassed her about her Allopecia, taking note of her difference. It was the first time he had ever had to witness the questioning that Lillie undergoes frequently.

Since then, he has experienced numerous uncomfortable encounters with curious strangers who are unafraid to approach her and ask about her condition. While both Lillie and Chris acknowledged that most people are kind and come from a place of concern, there were power dynamics related to who approached her and what they asked.

“I have this theory that it actually has a lot to do with race,” said Lillie who noted that her most abrasive encounters had been with white people seeking to 'quell their curiosity'. “People of color either don't say anything or they say something really nice. They trust that I'm fine and they affirm me. I think that has to do with the way people of color are treated in our society.”

Chris believes that Lillie's daily experiences have been key to her involvement with social justice work. Her work with migrant farm workers is just one of the ways she is reaching out to make a difference in the lives of “people who everyday have to expend energy to assure people that they're human.”

During a typical workweek, Lillie works over 40 hours doing desk-work for Welcoming Michigan in addition to the time she spends out in the field putting on events like the one in South Haven. And this is only her day gig. She has recently become involved in the ERAC/CE (Eliminating Racism and Claiming/Celebrating Equality) movement which is seeking to eliminate racism in Kalamazoo and she participates in numerous events throughout the city.

But it is at Lillie's night job that she finds solace and tranquility. Every Wednesday and Thursday she instructs classes at the Sangha Yoga Studio in downtown Kalamazoo. She found yoga ten years ago, after returning from studying abroad in Ecuador in 2003. Lillie's self-driven attitude has worn her out on more than one occasion, but she recalls feeling particularly defeated upon her arrival home after 9 months.

“I came back and basically I was a hot mess,” said Lillie, whose father recommended she take up yoga. During the last 10 years, a lot has changed for her but yoga has remained her constant.

Born in New York and raised in Traverse City, Lillie returned back to the Big Apple after graduation from college and began to make connections with nonprofits in the city. Later, she moved back up to Traverse City and founded an ESL Program for migrant farm workers before moving down to Kalamazoo and furthering her work within the migrant worker community.

She has been to India to study yoga, back to Ecuador twice, from coast to coast of the United States, but she cannot imagine being anywhere but in Kalamazoo.

“She came to Kalamazoo to reinvent herself,” said Chris who reminisced about the Lillie he met three years ago, just getting her start again in the city she had left after her graduation from Kalamazoo College in 2004. She found stability in her job teaching yoga, but she found her passion engaging in race work in the community.

“I think that the anti-racism work that's happening in Southwest Michigan is unlike anything happening in any other part of the world,” she says. “There's so much potential here. There's so much we can do here.”

She puts emphasis on the word “we,” recalling times when she felt like she could set out to singlehandedly save the world and nearly got crushed by the pressure.

“I can't not do this,” she says passionately. “But, you can't be alone in this work. It's not sustainable or healthy.”

She shifts her eyes upward and to the left and runs her hand across her scalp and remembers long sleepless nights organizing in Traverse City where she worked alone on issues surrounding the migrant community. She remembers the hustle and bustle of New York City and the neighborhoods of Ecuador where she once walked and lived.

But ultimately Lillie keeps on looking forward; she keeps on moving and organizing, advocating for leaders to work together for change in the community.

“My liberation is tied up in your liberation” Lillie says and she smirks. “Everyone has historically thought that their fight is the good fight, but people shouldn't have to choose what hat they wear. It's all connected; it doesn't have to be an either-or, it's a both-and.”

Target Publication: The Kalamazoo Gazette 

Word Count: 1,445

"The Events of October" Reading Response

 The minute that I picked up The Events of October, I could not put it down. I borrowed a copy of the novel from a friend this past Saturday afternoon and cracked it open with the intention of just reading the first chapter. Three hours later, I found myself still sitting in the same spot with my face in the middle of the book. I know that my instant interest has a lot to do with me being a part of this college community and the sense of shock I felt at the prospect of a tragedy of this magnitude. Having said that, I think that Gail's powerful ability to tell a story drew me in and sustained me. For me, the sign of a good writer is the one who can get you to desire to read more and to want to get to the end of the book. In this reading response, I want to identify and break down the stylistic and structural strengths of The Events of October that make it one of the best pieces of creative nonfiction that I have ever read.

1. Ample Context

One of the first things that I observed when reading this book is the amount of time that Gail spends setting up the context for the tragedy that later ensues. Not only does she describe the college well for someone who has never visited a small, liberal arts college, but she also does a good job at getting the reader to picture Maggie's and Neenef's upbringing. In the case of Maggie, the reader gets a good look at all of the potential she had and which was robbed from her. In the case of Neenef, the reader gets a glimpse into his psychological formation and red flags are raised for the reader early on.

2. Widespread Research and Interviewing

Another thing that stuck me about this book is the sheer amount of researching and interviewing that Gail did in order to put this book together. I cannot even imagine all of the notebooks and files she had filled and what a tedious task it would have been to sort through it all. I think the her book is a testament to the power of ample researching and the abundance of information appeases all of the reader's doubts.

3. Highly Thought-out Sequencing

Due to the fact that Gail seems to have had so much material to put into this book, I admire how she handled the arduous task of putting everything together. Since being in this class and beginning to write my own narrative pieces, I have discovered that this is the hardest part of the process for me. Especially in the sections entitled “The Endless Night” and “Hold Fast,” she manages to piece together a narrative using all of her interviews that takes into account nearly every aspect of those tragic weeks. Whether she divided them through the use of her own voice or through the simple drawing of lines, the chapters never read as jumpy to me. I think that she is more fabulous that ever in this realm and I am going to ask her a lot about it in class.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book, even though the subject matter is truly traumatic. I think that Gail puts together a fantastic example of narrative journalism and I am really looking forward to our class today so I can ask her for tips, both stylistic and structural.  

Final Story Pitch

Hey everyone,

I just wanted to check in with some potential story ideas for the final project. At this point, I am still undecided about which topic to go with, but I am going to solidify my choice over the weekend.

Idea 1- For my first idea, I thought about doing an extension of my last article, which was loosely related to farm work. This time around, I would ask Lille for contacts who do work in the South West Michigan farm industry and interview migrant workers who work in the fields. I would hopefully be able to go out for them during a day of work, as well as doing sit-down interviews.

Idea 2- My second idea would be to do a story on the Kalamazoo College arboretum. There is a senior history major who just did extensive research on the history of the arb and I think it would be cool to explore that (how it came into the college's possession, prior historical use, plans for the future). I am going to do more looking into this and see what I find.

Idea 3- My third idea was potentially doing a story about the Henderson Castle. I noticed that Suzanne also had pitched this idea, so I would only do it if she did not take it. After speaking with my boss at the mail center (she's been at the college 30 years and she knows all the business), she said there is a secretary in the theater department who used to own it. She and her husband were K students and they would always go on walks past it and say "we are going to own that someday" and they did! Unfortunately, they lost the property due to economic troubles a few years ago, but I still think the story would be worth exploring as a whole.

I look forward to hearing everyone's ideas in class! See you all on Wednesday!

Telling True Stories Reading Response

There are a couple of pieces in the reading for this week that have changed the way that I think about story writing forever. I feel like these two sections on “structure” and “quality” were much more helpful to me in my writing than was Franklin's entire book Writing for Story. In the “structure” section, it was a short little piece called “Narrative Distance” by Jack Hart that really conveyed the importance of putting the reader in the shoes of the story's protagonist. Many of the pieces echoed the notion that it is important to make readers feel sympathy for the main character early in the story and Hart gives us the tools to do this. In his little blurb, he essentially rewrites the same sentence three times, but each time he zooms in the camera a little bit more to make the perspective more personal. I found that when I read the version of the sentence that was the most focused, it spoke to me much more than a disinterested narration from across the room. It was in this moment that I realized I needed to apply these same techniques to my own story. I had previously included dialog by Lillie and given descriptions of her, but I don't think I had truly let them get inside of her head. I decided to use my interview with her boyfriend, Chris, to try and figure out more about this person who he himself called “mysterious.” He told me about a few instances when he has been with her and people make comments about her hair and the emotional reactions that she has. This is something that she has never mentioned to me directly and it was great to get a new perspective. I incorporated some of Chris' dialog into my revised version of the story and I hope that it is working to improve the piece as a whole.

The piece that stuck out to me the most in the “Building Quality” section was “Sequencing: Text as Line” by Tom French. Throughout his entry, he uses writing examples from David Finkel to show what makes good story writing. I was previously familiar with David Finkel, since I read his book The Good Soldiers (about US soldiers in the Middle East) during the summer before my sophomore year. To this day, it remains one of my favorite journalistic books because he makes the scenes come alive to the reader. Example after example, French showed how Finkel chooses seemingly small aspects of a larger conflicts and puts them at the center of his story. He puts value on the small details and believes that these things can speak volumes when places within a larger context (a war, an economic downturn, etc). In my revised draft, I have tried to hone in on descriptiveness in the hopes that the story comes more to life. Having said that, I think I need to go further for the final draft. I want to select a scene from her life and describe it so that the reader can get an idea of where she comes from and how that has shaped her worldview. I am looking forward to the last revision and this week's reading have helped me a lot to re-envision my piece.  

Fostering Empathy: A Social Justice Journey

Lillie Wolff teeters with full arms and makes her way into St. Basil's Catholic Church in South Haven, Mich—a balancing act of posters, papers, buttons, and baked goods. The pastries are from a local bakery in Kalamazoo and the lemonade is made from certified organic lemons. She enters a large, empty room filled six rows deep with chairs and a turquoise-blue crucifix that hangs high in the back of the room and sets everything down. She looks around, takes a breath, and begins to set up.

Tonight she is representing Welcoming Michigan, a foundation that focuses on migrant worker outreach in the rural Southwest Michigan community; but she is not here to educate immigrants, she is here to educate Americans on their role in ending xenophobia and discrimination. 

Her only prior advertisement comes from word of mouth, from church groups like the ones at St. Basil's, and from the local South Haven newspaper. The room slowly fills with an elderly, Anglo crowd and Lillie welcomes them, smiles and keeps breathing. People are watching, but Lillie is not sure they are listening, so she clears the air.

“Just to let you all know before I begin, I'm okay,” she says as she smiles nervously, scanning the crowd.

Lille was only 14 when her hair began to fall out. She remembers it falling out in clumps until she “didn't have enough left to have a full head of hair.” It was the summer before high school when she had to shave it all off and she covered her head with wigs until she was a senior. She remembers facing it bravely, “stoically” as she puts it, but below the surface she struggled with the potential of getting judged for being different.

Alopecia is an autoimmune disease that attacks Lillie's hair follicles and causes her hair to fall out at random, leaving her patchy. Although purely cosmetic, it may have left more marks on her internally then externally.

“I think my Alopecia has led me to understand what it's like to be different, outside the parameters of what mainstream wants to say is acceptable or in the in-group.”

Lillie is an artist, an advocate, and an instructor. She moves about busily in a flowing black dress, dangling earnings that she hand-crafted, her piercing blue eyes fixed on the crowd that shuffles out of the room at St. Basil's.

“Well...I think that went pretty well,” she says with a big smile.

Events like these are the cornerstone of Lillie's work. During 45 minutes, she shows a short documentary about the migrant farm work situation in Van Buren County and fields discussion questions. Some make statements rather than ask questions, some are kind and others are not, but Lillie keeps cool under the pressure. The event ends and Lillie pours herself a glass of organic lemonade.

Lillie believes in the power of nature. It was during a college orientation expedition in the wilderness in 1999 when her hair began to come back. It started growing and for years it didn't stop. If you flip back though a college yearbook, you will find her smiling with the same smile, staring out with the same blue eyes, but with long hair caressing her shoulders.

“I like to think that it was nature,” said Lillie who for years tried a slew of herbal supplements and healing massages, believing with all her might that she had the power to bring her hair back. She now likes to believe that all she needed to do is to let go.

Although her hair began to fall out once again when she was 25 and has not since returned, Lillie is not grieving her loss—she is out in the community advocating for those at the margins of society.

“She has a strong sense of justice and empathy for folks,” said Chris Moore, Lillie's partner of three years. Alongside her, he has experienced numerous uncomfortable encounters with curious strangers who are unafraid to approach her and ask about her condition. While both Lillie and Chris acknowledged that most people are kind and come from a place of concern, there were power dynamics related to who approached her and what they asked.

“I have this theory that it actually has a lot to do with race,” said Lillie who noted that her most abrasive encounters had been with white people seeking to 'quell their curiosity'. “People of color either don't say anything or they say something really nice. They trust that I'm fine and they affirm me. I think that has to do with the way people of color are treated in our society.”

Chris believes that Lillie's daily experiences have been key to her involvement with social justice work. Her work with migrant farm workers is just one of the ways she is reaching out to make a difference in the lives of “people who everyday have to expend energy to assure people that they're human.”

During a typical workweek, Lillie works over 40 hours doing desk-work for Welcoming Michigan in addition to the time she spends out in the field putting on events like the one in South Haven. And this is only her day gig. She has recently become involved in the ERAC/CE (Eliminating Racism and Claiming/Celebrating Equality) movement which is seeking to eliminate racism in Kalamazoo and she participates in numerous events throughout the city.

But it is at Lillie's night job that she finds solace and tranquility. Every Wednesday and Thursday she instructs classes at the Sangha Yoga Studio in downtown Kalamazoo. She found yoga ten years ago, after returning from studying abroad in Ecuador in 2003. Lillie's self-driven attitude has worn her out on more than one occasion, but she recalls feeling particularly defeated upon her arrival home after 9 months.

“I came back and basically I was a hot mess,” said Lillie, whose father recommended she take up yoga. During the last 10 years, a lot has changed for her but yoga has remained her constant.

Born in New York and raised in Traverse City, Lillie returned back to the Big Apple after graduation from college and began to make connections with nonprofits in the city. Later, she moved back up to Traverse City and founded an ESL Program for migrant farm workers before moving down to Kalamazoo and furthering her work within the migrant worker community.

She has been to India to study yoga, back to Ecuador twice, from coast to coast of the United States, but she cannot imagine being anywhere but in Kalamazoo.

“She came to Kalamazoo to reinvent herself,” said Chris who reminisced about the Lillie he met three years ago, just getting her start again in the city she had left after her graduation from Kalamazoo College in 2004. She found stability in her job teaching yoga, but she found her passion engaging in race work in the community.

“I think that the anti-racism work that's happening in Southwest Michigan is unlike anything happening in any other part of the world,” she says. “There's so much potential here. There's so much we can do here.”

She puts emphasis on the word “we,” recalling times when she felt like she could set out to singlehandedly save the world and nearly got crushed by the pressure.

“I can't not do this,” she says passionately. “But, you can't be alone in this work. It's not sustainable or healthy.”

She shifts her eyes upward and to the left and runs her hand across her scalp and remembers long sleepless nights organizing in Traverse City where she worked alone on issues surrounding the migrant community. She remembers the hustle and bustle of New York City and the neighborhoods of Ecuador where she once walked and lived.

But ultimately Lillie keeps on looking forward; she keeps on moving and organizing, advocating for leaders to work together for change in the community.

“My liberation is tied up in your liberation” Lillie says and she smirks. “Everyone has historically thought that their fight is the good fight, but people shouldn't have to choose what hat they wear. It's all connected; it doesn't have to be an either-or, it's a both-and.”

Intended Publication: The Kalamazoo Gazette

Profile Process Writing

Writing a profile piece in narrative form is a new endeavor for me and writing this piece was, in many ways, harder for me than the personal essay. I had previously written profiles in a features context and I am not sure what the exact differences are between the two genres. My biggest concern is that my story comes off too much like a feature and that I did not paint enough of a picture with my words. When I sat down to write the story, I found that I had ample material, but I did not know exactly what direction to go in. I think a lot of this stems from my subject's context as a prominent figure in the local community. From the beginning, I knew that my target publication was going to be the Kalamazoo Gazette, because the story would have more of an impact for local readers than it would for someone in Colorado, for example.

Lillie was awesome from the start in complying with me for this project. Although she has a busy schedule, she let me in and I was able to get a view of a few different aspects of her life. The day I first approached her, she invited me that same night to ride with her to an event that she was doing out in South Haven. I jumped on the opportunity and I am so glad that I did because I got to truly observe her in her element. Later, I was able to go to her home and conduct a sit-down interview and I was able to get much of the background information on her as a person. She was fascinating to talk to and, as we learned in class, I saw that she was eager to tell a particular story, so I let go and I listened. From the beginning, I imagined the story being about her social justice leadership in the community, but the conversation took a turn towards her Alopecia hair loss condition and provided for a sense of depth that I had not previously counted on. I want to be able to frame her involvement in the community as deeply involved with her empathy towards those who are looked down upon for their appearance. I hope I am accomplishing this and I especially want my title to reflect this. I am currently still looking for a title that suits the piece and I am hoping to get a few more suggestions in class.

In the case of this story, the interviewing definitely came more easily than the story writing. I am excited to see the direction that this story continues to move in and I am looking forward to the workshop in class. I want to be able to polish my piece and write something that does accurate justice to Lillie and her work.  

Fostering Empathy: A Social Justice Journey [Working Title, First Draft]

Lillie Wolffe teeters with full arms and makes her way into St. Basil's Catholic Church in South Haven, Mich—a balancing act of posters, papers, buttons, and baked goods. The pastries are from a local bakery in Kalamazoo and the lemonade is made from certified organic lemons. She enters a large, empty room filled six rows deep with chairs and a turquoise-blue crucifix that hangs high in the back of the room and sets everything down. She looks around, takes a breath, and begins to set up.

Tonight she is representing Welcoming Michigan, a foundation that focuses on migrant worker outreach in the rural Southwest Michigan community; but she is not here to educate immigrants, she is here to educate Americans on their role in ending xenophobia and discrimination. The room slowly fills with an older, Anglo crowd and Lillie welcomes them and smiles and keeps breathing. People are watching, but Lillie is not sure they are listening, so she clears the air.

“Just to let you all know before I begin, I'm okay,” she says as she smiles nervously, scanning the crowd.

Lille was only 14 when her hair began to fall out. She remembers it falling out in clumps until she “didn't have enough left to have a full head of hair.” It was the summer before high school when she had to shave it all off and she covered her head with wigs until she was a senior. She remembers facing it bravely, “stoically” as she puts it, but below the surface she struggled with the potential of getting judged for being different.

Alopecia is an autoimmune disease that attacks Lillie's hair follicles and causes her hair to fall out at random, leaving her patchy. Although purely cosmetic, it may have left more marks on her internally then externally.

“I think my Alopecia has led me to understand what its like to be different, outside the paramaters of what mainstream wants to say is acceptable or in the in-group.”

Lillie is an artist, an advocate, and an instructor. She moves about busily in a flowing black dress, dangling earnings that she hand-crafted, her piercing blue eyes fixed on the crowd who shuffles out of the room at St. Basil's.

“Well...I think that went pretty well,” she says expressively with a big smile.

Events like these are the cornerstone of Lillie's work. During 45 minutes, she shows a short documentary about the migrant farm work situation in Van Buren County and fields discussion questions. Some make statements rather than ask questions, some are kind and others are not, but Lillie keeps cool under the pressure. The event ends and Lillie pours herself a glass of organic lemonade.

Lillie believes in the power of nature. It was during a college orientation expedition in the wilderness in 1999 when her hair began to come back. It started growing and for years it didn't stop. If you flip back though a college yearbook, you will find her smiling with the same smile, staring out with the same blue eyes, but with long hair caressing her shoulders.

“I like to think that it was nature,” says Lillie who for years tried a slew of herbal supplements and healing massages, believing with all her might that she had the power to bring her hair back. She now likes to believe that all she needed to do is to let go.

Although her hair began to fall out once again when she was 25 and has not since returned, Lillie is not grieving her loss—she is out in the community advocating for those at the margins of society.

During a typical workweek, Lillie works over 40 hours doing desk-work in addition to the time she spends out in the field putting on events like the one in South Haven. And this is only her day gig. She has recently become involved in the ERACCE movement which is seeking to eliminate racism in Kalamazoo and she participates in numerous events throughout the city.

But it is at Lillie's night job that she finds her true solace. Every Wednesday and Thursday you can find her at the Sangha Yoga Studio in downtown Kalamazoo instructing classes. She found yoga ten years ago, after returning from studying abroad in Ecuador in 2003. Lillie's self-driven attitude has worn her out on more than one occasion, but she recalls feeling particularly defeated upon her arrival home after 9 months.

“I came back and basically I was a hot mess,” said Lillie, whose father recommended she take up yoga. During the last 10 years, a lot has changed for her but yoga has remained her constant.

Born in New York and raised in Traverse City, Lillie returned back to the Big Apple after graduation from college and began to make connections within the social justice world. Later, she moved back up to Traverse City and founded an ESL Program for migrant farm workers before moving down to Kalamazoo and furthering her work within the migrant worker community.

She has been to India to study yoga, back to Ecuador twice, from coast to coast of the United States, but she cannot imagine being anywhere but in Kalamazoo.

“I think that the anti-racism work that's happening in Southwest Michigan is unlike anything happening in any other part of the world,” she says. “There's so much potential here. There's so much we can do here.”

She puts emphasis on the word “we,” recalling times when she felt like she could set out to singlehandedly save the world and nearly got crushed by the pressure.

“I can't not do this,” she says passionately. “But, you can't be alone in this work. It's not sustainable or healthy.”

She shifts her eyes upward and to the left and runs her hand across her scalp and remembers long sleepless nights organizing in Traverse City where she worked alone on issues surrounding the migrant community. She remembers the hustle and bustle of New York City and the neighborhoods of Ecuador where she once walked and lived.

But ultimately Lillie keeps on looking forward; she keeps on moving and organizing, advocating for leaders to work together for change in the community.

“My liberation is tied up in your liberation” Lillie says and she smirks. “Everyone has historically thought that their fight is the good fight, but people shouldn't have to choose what hat they wear. It's all connected; it doesn't have to be an either-or, it's a both-and.”

Intended Publication: The Kalamazoo Gazette 

Reading Response Week 5

 The readings for this week all interweave to provide a basic basis for how to report, write, and polish a narrative journalism profile. While I found some of the readings more helpful than others, I took a little bit from each of them in planning my own profile writing process. “Being There” by Anne Hull really fascinated me because she went in-depth in her suggestions for how to truly do deep and meaningful reporting. I had always figured that shadowing the interviewee in their daily life was key in addition to traditional reporting, but I never took into consideration the more abstract areas of reportage that she touches on. For example, she recommends that a reporter should read the local paper, go to the local church, and to use the language of the people that you are trying to capture. I think that in all of these areas she makes very good points, especially in small town America. If I were doing a story in New York City, perhaps these details would be irrelevant due to the great amount of diversity—the New York Times would not necessarily address the concerns of the people as a whole and no one church would have the majority of people as parishioners. However, here in Kalamazoo, these points are very pertinent to reporting and I may have passed them by before reading Hull's piece. Much of the energy happening in this town proceeds from the pulpit and the social movements are often linked to a religious organization. If something is going on that concerns the people of Kalamazoo, it is likely to be reflected here in the Gazette and in the church newsletters throughout town. As far as language goes, I think that Hull's point rings especially true in the profile that I am trying to piece together right now for this class. I am profiling Lillie Wolffe with Welcoming Michigan, a migrant outreach group here in Kalamazoo. The people who are most important to her and who she deals with on a daily basis use Spanish as their first language; if I want to interview them or become a part of her world for reporting purposes, using my Spanish-speaking abilities is key to my story. I really think that knowing Spanish provides me a level of access that would otherwise go untapped in a story like this. As I read “Being There,” I made a lot of connections that I plan to employ in my writing.

As Larissa MacFarquhar of The New Yorker says in her speech: “Every journalist who is not too stupid or too full of themselves to notice what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible. He's a kind of confidence man, preying on people's vanity, ignorance, or loneliness.” I definitely have felt this way throughout the process—trying to balance not wanting to intrude and wanting to get the necessary material. I think that these writing guides are helping me to cope with this balance and I am excited to see what comes of this project. I am interested to know what others from class thought about this dilemma and I look forward to our discussion. 

An Anxious Legacy (Updated with Franklin Draft)

Franklin Outline: “An Anxious Legacy”

Complication: Anxiety controls Matt

Development:

1. Matt stresses maniacally
2. Grandpa stresses maniacally
3. Matt experiences attack

Resolution: Matt accepts anxiety

     It is hard to describe an anxiety attack to someone who has never had one before, but I know when I pulled out of the driveway that morning I never saw it coming. It is difficult to put into words the feeling of utter hopelessness that comes over you or the physical torment that the mind is able to produce and which I myself have yet to comprehend completely.

     I guess I remember putting the keys into the ignition and backing out of the driveway on that summer morning, but it was in the gas station parking lot on the corner of Grand and Schaffer that I regained consciousness. I was shaking and sobbing hysterically on the curb next to my car and the hum of my still-running engine made me dizzy. The word “Dad” illuminated the screen of my phone which I was holding in my right hand and his voice called out to me from the speaker. I struggled to regain my breath and managed to spatter out a weak: “I’m okay.”

     There's a certain irony in diagnosing yourself a hypochondriac, which is just one of the decisions I made the night before as I shook in terror over two swollen lymph nodes in my groin. I was having pain urinating and had scheduled a doctor's appointment for the next morning to do some tests. Ever since the moment I came out to my parents two years ago, I have harbored anxiety that being gay has predestined me for something awful. Against all the reason in the world, I nearly cried three months earlier as the nurse pricked my finger to draw blood for an HIV test at a routine physical. I had now convinced myself that the test was a false negative and tomorrow I was going to the doctor's to receive my true fate. I pulled the blankets over my face to keep everything out and I examined the crisscross pattern until I dizzied myself to sleep.

     Doctors offices have always made me nauseous and I remember cringing as a child as I accompanied my grandfather to my great-aunt Caro's numerous appointments. He would sit and sweat and shift his eyes upwards, examining the sterile lights nervously, as my aunt verbally abused the office staff.

“Can you believe she said ‘fuck you’ to the nurse?” he exclaimed one evening to my grandmother who cooked and rolled her eyes, almost laughing from his exasperation.

“That doctor is a cabrón! And a racist! They treat me bad there because I’m a Mexican,” said my fair-skinned and light-eyed aunt who lifted her hands to further her point.

     I picture my grandfather in his seat at the corner of the sturdy, wooden table in my grandparents’ kitchen piling salsa picante onto whatever he was eating and worrying about the past, the present, and the unforeseeable. If you couldn’t tell he was a ball of nerves from the way he would rub his eyebrows, he would be happy to let you know what was ailing him today, whether it be the Dodgers or the weather or the remote possibility of something going terribly wrong.

     My grandmother always told me that my grandfather’s life changed the day that I was born and that she fell in love with him again after almost 35 years of marriage. It is true that his grandchildren were the apples of his eye and he would show his love for us by worrying about us incessantly at every moment of every day.

Whether it was big dogs, the beach, playground equipment, or sub-70 degree temperatures, everything was out to get us.

“Here comes old ‘No-jacket Matthew’ they call him” he would always say as I would enter their house regardless of the month. Unless it was the dead of summer, I was always exposing myself to the perils of the arctic Southern California climate.

“Mijo, if you love me, just put on a jacket before you walk in our house,” my grandmother would tell me. “I don’t care if you weren’t wearing it all day, just put it on or I will hear about it all week,” and we would chuckle as she did impressions of him in Spanglish.

     I remember when my grandpa got sick and I would go over during the summer to help take care of him and my grandma would look at me over the breakfast table with tired eyes and say: “You are going to look just like your grandfather one day, baby.”

     Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I find myself pacing around my house checking locks on windows and doors and unplugging lamps so the house doesn't burn down while I sleep. I think of my grandpa as I climb the creaky stairs to my room and images flash through my mind of his shadowy figure moving down my grandparents' hall with a flashlight at 3 a.m.

     The night before my appointment, I retraced the usual night-time path through my house and my heart pounded deep in my chest, waiting for something to happen. I am always waiting for the worst to happen and that night I almost wished someone would have broken in to my house and given me a reason to obsess over something other than my swollen nodes.
     Anxiety doesn't sound like a legitimate illness and certainly not something that can be inherited. Yet the next morning as I sulked out the door for the appointment, I glanced back and watched as my mom popped a Zoloft into her mouth and washed it down with freshly-brewed coffee. I took a step and closed the door slowly, pausing and staring at my car.

     Caught inside my own head as I drove towards the appointment, I remember beginning to shake violently until I gasped for air and my foot rattled on the brakes. I can hear the honking of car horns behind me as I tell myself to accelerate but my foot stays still. By the time I turned into the parking lot, I had stopped controlling my own body and I had let my fears take the wheel. Apparently, fear is not a good driver because, after gaining control of my breath, I was spilled out on the sidewalk and my car was parked across three parking spaces at the back of the station mini-mart.

“Hon?! Are you there, hon?!” said my dad at the other end of the phone. I stood up, trembling, and got back into the car, still sobbing. Slowly, I switched the car into drive, turned the air conditioner on high, and made a right onto the busy street.

     My life-threatening illness turned out to be a common urinary tract infection, but it occurred to me that I had something much more serious wrong with me. My mind. I left the office with a prescription for a three-day course of antibiotics and a referral for anxiety counseling.

     I used to blame my fears on things that happened to me in the past—my parents' long and bitter divorce or maybe that time I got chased by that man with a gun in that movie theater. Maybe none of that is out of the realm of possibility. But when I look in the mirror, I am beginning to see more of my grandfather in me every day—in the ways that I worry about the past that I cannot change and the future that has not yet happened. I am coming to the realization that this maniac worrying may be due less to the things that have happened to me and more to who I am deep down at the core. It has become apparent that I have inherited more than his olive skin and his lazy eyes.

Word Count: 1,330
Intended Publication: "Lives" section of the New York Times Magazine 

Writing for Story (Week 4 Response)

            Writing for Story has given me a lot to think about with regards to the way that I write. I found that I can incorporate many of Franklin’s structural pointers to not just narrative journalism writing, but also to feature writing in a more traditional journalism form. Above all, what stuck out to me the most was his emphasis on being organized. Each chapter flowed into the next as he literally taught us how to build a story from the ground up. Every time I read a story, I am now going to find myself considering certain key questions, such as: “Why did he/she do that?” and “What is his/her motive?”. When it comes to structure, the most helpful part of the book for me personally was his lesson on outlining. When I usually think of outlines, I imagine long and fleshed out lists of roman numerals and sub-letters filled with ideas that sprout in every direction. It was astounding to me that he is able to create an effective outline solely by choosing the story’s key tensions and expressing them with action verbs; it really got at the heart of what makes a story important.

            If Franklin had not included “Mrs. Kelly’s Monster” and “The Ballad of Old Man Peters” in this book, everything else he says may have fallen on me as cold theory. During my time as an English major, I have been instructed to read several different texts about style, but none of them have truly benefited me like Writing for Story. Had I not been able to feel the tension in the operating room with Mrs. Kelly or explore the intricacies of Wilk’s life, I would have been in the dark searching for examples that put into use Franklin’s stylistic suggestions. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and it is most definitely one that I am not selling back to the book store. I consider it a valuable resource not only in this class, but in my future writing endeavors.