A Place Called Home is a groundbreaking after-school program in South-Central L.A., blocks from the Pop + Politics offices at USC. There are computers, a basketball court, TVs, areas where you can just kick it. There’s also instruction in school subjects, a recording studio, general all around safety and people who know who you are and who are there to help. According to Founder and President Deborah Constance, A Place Called Home aims to provide the “basic rights” of childhood, which they define as at least all of the above.

A Place Called Home is fifteen years old this year and its success flies in the face of cynical societal critics and legislators who throw their hands up at the problems of the innercities and slash taxes while recruiting residents from these same neighborhoods to fight for our country in Iraq. In the language of the organization’s website: “APCH began working with twelve inner-city children in a basement of a church. In September 1996, with a growth in membership to 400, APCH moved to its present location — a 10,000 square foot award-winning facility.”

I spent a few weeks getting to know APCH and its music program in particular. I produced a video and wrote down some of my reflections on the experience:

It’s hard to miss the bright teal paint on the sides of the square building that serves as home base for A Place Called Home. A very high black iron fence (it has to be at least 10 feet tall) guards the entryway with extra sharp barbed wire at the top that serves as extra protection against unwanted intruders. I parked my car as close to the entrance as I could, admittedly because I thought it would be safer than further down the street where the littered asphalt leads to an alley marred with graffiti.

Now I’m no stranger to what many might consider “sketchy neighborhoods.” I grew up in El Paso, Texas and went to high school a mere 10 minutes away from the bridge to Mexico. Like my hometown, I don’t see South-Central Los Angeles necessarily as unsafe, but as neglected and underprivileged. But as I walked up to the security guard office to check in and set off the metal detector with my camera gear, I began to rethink things. I thought metal detectors were just TV show dramatization tools, not safety measures for the 8-year-olds running around me.

The average USC student might feel a bit out of place walking up and down the hallways, if only because the average USC student is white. Every single other student at the after school program is black or Hispanic. For me, it was like being back home. I’m willing to bet these kids have no idea that in the grand scheme of things they are minorities, because that’s just not the case where they live. In these neck of the woods, they are the majority. All they know is that everyone they go to school with looks the same and talks the same as them.

There are no cheesy inspirational posters on the walls as one might expect there to be. In fact, the walls are pretty bare for the most part. Outside one of the classrooms is a rundown of the rules. But these rules are different. No weapons. No drugs. No graffiti. I never had to follow those set of regulations when I was growing up – those kinds of things were just sort of implied.

As I came back for more visits, however, I soon realized that these students’ entire lives are run by a different set of rules. There are racial rules they have to follow. APCH’s director, Scott Culberson, explained that one nearby high school has a courtyard in the middle where students can hang out during lunch and after school. But instead of the area being a free for all, each corner is “run” by a different gang. And you guessed it – these gangs fall along racial lines. Like a prison compound, it is probably in the student’s best interests to not bridge these gaps. I wonder where my half Cuban/half black friend would have ended up.

There are also social rules these kids have to follow. Several of the students I interviewed told me that coming to an after school program isn’t something all their friends are doing. Some of these friends prefer walking the neighborhood streets in search of trouble to taking advantage of APCH’s programs. By coming to APCH, these students are putting their “cool” factor at risk.

Still, hundreds of students who are taking part in the after school program. For them, APCH is a safe haven away from drug wars and youth violence and gang recruitment. APCH is the chance to be a part of something truly incredible. The programs at APCH are successful not just because they are well-funded by sponsors with deep pockets (although that certainly can’t hurt). These programs are special because there are activities that connect all of these students. It does not matter what color your skin is, music is something that unites everybody. It does not matter what language you speak because dancing is a universal language. For student at APCH, all that matters are the abundance of opportunities that abound inside these four teal walls.

And it is not just a one-way sense of accomplishment. Music instructor, Monk Turner, came to the program after being held up at gunpoint. That incident made him realize his unfulfilled career in advertising was not the route he wanted to take. He wanted to make a different kind of impact on the world. Now he serves as a full-time positive role model for all these children. And in turn, these kids give him a daily sense of triumph that he never would have experienced in corporate America.

Seeing the people inside this building embrace these sorts of relationships is nothing short of awe-inspiring. But don’t take my word for it – check out the video.

Tags: a place called home, after school program, deborah constance, lausd, south central