I've always thought of myself as an empathetic individual: always keeping in mind those less fortunate than I. I have actively sought to help them in any way that I possibly knew how. However, I was raised in an upper middle class family and have always lived in the "better" part of town. I was never deprived of anything I needed. Growing up in an extremely strict upper middle class family, I could not venture out into the city by myself to witness much firsthand. I guess you could consider me an extremely sheltered person fully aware there was poverty around me, but never truly being around it. Sure, I've passed through lesser fortunate neighborhoods...in a car...quickly. I have visited my home country, Iran, where the homeless are out in the streets of downtown Tehran, and I've seen the beggars in downtown Los Angeles. I have always sympathized with those who were forced to hold their cups out for a few cents, and always made sure I deposit a few dollars into their meager savings. However, the second I enter a neighborhood or area that seems a little sketchy, I become increasingly uncomfortable. My definition of "sketchy", I've found, is very different from most other's definition of the word. It's been formed around what I've been around.
Recently, I have started working on a gubernatorial campaign. One of our campaign techniques is "block walking" which just means I walk around neighborhoods in order to solicit votes for the candidate I am promoting. The candidate for whom I am campaigning has many supporters in lower income neighborhoods and fights for their rights, so naturally, campaigning in low income areas is important. Upon arriving to my target neighborhood, I immediately felt nervous. I wanted to get in and get out as fast as possible before anything bad were to happen. I noticed, however, my partner was incredibly comfortable with her surroundings; not understanding why I was so hesitant to leave my car. "Come on!" she yelled, "we have 100 houses to visit!" I pulled myself out of the car and told myself to suck it up. I wanted to put myself outside of my comfort zone and this was a perfect chance to do so. I needed to be exposed to houses that weren't the typical "clean cut" one and two story homes. I didn't want to look like that "sheltered rich bitch" who had never seen normal things in life and was too spoiled to do so.
I dragged myself out of the car and swiftly walked to the first house. The first thing I noticed were the cob webs on either side of the door and a dog scratching at the disintegrating door. I searched for a doorbell but there was not one in sight. I reached out to knock on the stained door, but quickly retreated my hand. I took one look at my partner then looked back at the door. I banged my clipboard against the door. Once, twice, thrice. No answer. "OK, let's go Arvina!" I said quickly and turned my back happily, knowing that was one less door I had to face. However, the door opened just as I was skipping away. I came back to find a jolly elderly woman open the door. "Hello!" she exclaimed. I gave her my spiel about the candidate I was promoting and she happily held a conversation with me. I walked away feeling confident and slightly better. I learned not to judge a book by it's cover a little more at this point. However, the next door I visited was answered by a sick old man with decaying teeth and a rabid dog. I was terrified. He answered the door with "what do you want?" Anger was filling his face as if saying "why are you bothering me in my house?!" The house reeked of feces and only God knows what else. I lost what I was going to say because of how nervous I was. He kept getting closer as if he didn't hear me but I kept backing up with every step he took towards me. "Hi....uhh...my name is E...Ellie and...uhhh......I am a volunteer for....____" He turned his frown around and told me he was going to vote for the candidate I was endorsing. It seemed as though he just needed somebody to care. He needed somebody to fight for his voice. I was still nervous, though. I didn't wait to tell him the rest of my speech. I simply thanked him for his time and walked away. I was nervous even walking down the street from that point on. There was something uncomfortable with the type of people who walked through. Every time a car passed by or every time a rugged person walked through, I became excessively stiff.
In the midst of my nervousness, my eyes fell upon a group of kids playing carelessly in their yard. I looked at how normal this life was to them. I saw how happy they were living in such a less than OK area. I then realized how blessed I have been my whole life that I have never had to endure life in these areas. I felt guilty for complaining about the things I don't have. I felt guilty for screaming out for help because of my strict father and upbringing. I just felt awful about the fact that I considered my life less than average. I have been blessed with anything I could possibly want and yet, somehow, find depression in the midst of it. I have a new outlook on this world. I have seen the insides of incredibly poor houses, dirty houses, and broken houses. The fact that this sight made my stomach turn shows just how blessed my life has been and I want to make it my mission to help those who are in these situations. My eyes have been opened.
Thank you, Allah. Thank you for everything.
Alhamdullilah.
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