I am a graduate student at the University of Southern California. I am of Latin American descent; I  grew up, and live in East Los Angeles. From what I knew of white people when growing up is that they lived far, and my mom cleaned their homes.

As I got older, I came to understand the circumstances of my presence in the United States. There was a war back home in El Salvador, my mother, who held a Bachelors degree in Business Administration fled to this country, and was reduced to this work. It was fine work—honest, decent, but at the expense of so much more.

For the most part, I have lived my life in safe zones, interacting with white people from a distance. Not because they were scary to me, but because most just didn’t “get it.”

Now that I am at USC, at the Annenberg School of Journalism, I hear a fair amount of talk on the role of journalists who covers stories that are nitty gritty, the stories of marginalized, low income, communities of color. A community that surrounds USC, yet is absent from the campus. The school—at $18,000 a semester—definitely draws an upper-class student body, earning it the nickname, University of Spoiled Children.

In a recent roundtable discussion, a few professors noted that student journalists need to be comfortable in going into the community and talking to folks. To this I ask, which journalists?

The students in this mid-city academic institution who grew up in the surrounding neighborhood—South Central, ground zero for the Rodney King riots—aren’t uncomfortable. The problem is that their (our) voices aren’t as loud.

While white students feel uncomfortable around people of color what about the students of color who are surrounded by white people?

A tall bald white male student spoke about his experience in South LA, and how he, for the first time, felt like a minority.

The issue of cultural and ethnic sensitivity comes to mind. The stories of economic plight, the stories of people overcoming, the story of the former gang member who got his/her life together, these are not stories where white journalists become “white saviors” because they were able to put some ink to it.

These are stories of real people, that occur every single day, and it takes journalists, who regardless of race or ethnicity have an innate ability to understand the complexity of the human condition.

As one of a few Latinas at Annenberg who comes from an urban setting with a mix of street and academic knowledge, I always find myself contemplating these thoughts. All the time.

I love USC and my program and I have wanted to be a Trojan all my life. But, it’s moments like these that really solidify my presence, my viewpoint, and my understanding towards how stories should be covered, and the importance of community journalism.

We are not all blessed with having grown up in beautiful East or South LA. We are not all blessed with understanding concepts like intersectionality or outsider looking in perspectives, but I hope, that we can at least try to share our stories, without feeling like we just saved someone.

By his name, you never would think that Ghostface Killa (scary!) would be one to defend Rihanna or do anything remotely suggesting a public service towards women.

In a song that was leaked on the internet last week, titled “A Message from Ghost” the Wu-Tang artist takes a moment address domestic violence.

“This is for all my women out there that be getting beat up, you know what I mean, struggling, welfare, sometimes the jobs ain’t right, they going through mad trauma, especially with they man when they don’t really need that shit,”

Wow. Reminds me of Tupac’s “Dear Mama”

While even Rihanna’s father has accepted Rihanna getting back together with looser girl beating pop wriggleys chewing artist, Chris Brown, Ghostface ends his song with,

“That girl Rihanna, you know what it is Rihanna, you little sexy little thing you, you didn’t have to got through all that, that’s that young boy shit, And I ain’t here to interfere either but protect your neck, that’s what Wu told you baby.”

Most of the artist community has said the incident is “a disgrace” but none have straight out said that what Chris Brown has done is completely unacceptable. What message does that send?

The American Institute on Domestic Violence states that each year, 5.3 million women are abused and 1,232 are killed by their partner. According to a 2002 study at Tufts University, the number one killer of African American woman between the ages of 15-35 is homicide at the hands of a current or former intimate partner. The statistics of domestic violence against African American women compared to White, Latinas and Asians are also much higher.

As it turns out, the picture that TMZ leaked? New reports are showing that picture was taken a few days after the attack. The picture taken of Rihanna the night of the incident is MUCH worse. Chris Brown,”cannot survive his career if this picture gets out” said TMZ’s head honcho, Harvey Levin.

Ouch.

But even with Ghostface taking a stand on the situation, does it matter?

Etra Donald, Rihanna’s attorney told the Los Angeles Superior Court on Thursday as Chris Brown faced felony charges  that “Rihanna opposes a ’stay away’ order and requested that no such order be issued.”

They are back together and she most likely, wont be pressing charges.

March 3, 2009: L-R: Jack Weiss, candidate for Los Angeles City Attorney, Antonio Villaraigosa, Magic Johnson

Yeah boi! One thing we can say about Mayor V, is his ability to put Los Angeles on the map.

First elected in 2005 after a 180 year drought of Latino Mayors in Los Angeles, Antonio Villaraigosa has seen the ups and downs of being a high profile elected official. Certainly not shy to lights, camera, action! Mayor V’s re-election victory party at the Bonaventure Hotel in Downtown Los Angeles was a celebration of sorts.

Picture this:

Exited supporters waving their signs, Randy Newman’s “I Love L.A” playing loudly in the background, and an introduction by Lakers legend Magic Johnson, this victory party marked not only a historic re-election, but a rebirth of Los Angeles.

With a 10.1% unemployment rate and 1 out 10 people without jobs, the state registers office reports this is the highest unemployment rate since June 1983.

Donna Summer’s “She Works Hard for the Money” was on top of the charts and it seems—not much has changed, we’re still working hard!

Although the economy is in shambles, and the “Dream with Me” Mayor had certain fidelity indiscretions, there is still a sense of hope.

That hope, is the stuff that got Obama elected. And while some cry that the Mayor likes to be in front of the camera too much, or that he really had no competition and that in many ways Democracy in Los Angeles is dead – whaa -whaa, cry me a river and get over it.

So for the man in charge of the second largest city in the nation, a city in debt, low employment rates, a crumbling school system, and god knows what else, L.A continues to be one of the most desired cities to live in: we got the weather, the beach, the mountains, the entertainment, the bars, the clubs, the nightlife, we be big pimpin’! Spending G’s!

And we need a Mayor that understands that!

As well as a Mayor that can secure Los Angeles a huge portion of that stimulus package. You know, for all the official business of job creation, infrastructure and economic development.

Now, if only we knew for sure he’s going finish his term. Rumor has it that Governorship can be pretty enticing…

The Coveted Ceremony Ticket

Disclaimer: This is the story the news won’t tell you: How the Inauguration Committee just screwed everyone over.

I was = excited when I received news that I would be receiving tickets to the inauguration of President Obama. The line to pick up the ticket at my congressional office was about 40 minutes long, not bad considering some people waited more than three hours.

On inauguration day, Estee —my awesome friend who hosted me for the week—and I headed out from Chinatown DC, which is less than a mile away from the Capital building around 5am.

The walk turned into a nightmare when we realized all the streets were closed and we were not allowed access. We went all the way around the barricades to where the Purple ticket holders were being allowed in, only to be told we were at the wrong place. We then had to haul it all the way back to the back for a good 5 five blocks in the 12 degree weather to go under the 3^rd street tunnel which almost took us to Virginia. It was a very long walk underneath the city’s infrastructure, and quite cold.

When we finally arrived to the entryway, we made our way to more closed streets and found our way into the Silver ticket area that was extremely crowded and cold.

We waited for a good four hours before we started getting delirious.

By 11am, we realized we had not moved by much and people were not budging. Some were saying that the entry was on the lefthand side and I overheard people saying they didn’t have tickets.

How they got to the actual gateway without tickets was the problem. Most of the people blocking the way were people that were not ticket holders and had scrambled their way into the area. They were completely blocking the entry ways and were not at all concerned.

Estee and I decided that we were not going to put up with that and let out inner ghetto-queens come out. I had not flowed all the way from East LA and endured this crazy cold weather only to stand in a crowd of people and not see anything at all.

We started making our way to the left side of Maryland and 3rd St., pushing our way out.

“I need to pee!” I yelled out.

Some other people who got hip to the game started following us. By this point the speeches were beginning and we only had a short time. Twenty minutes later, we came out victorious to the other side of wall of hundreds of people only to be told by the officers that we were not going to be let inside.

WHAT?!

“We are ticket holders and you are going to let us in!” Estee yelled at the officer.

Sure enough, he resigned his position and let us in as we rushed our way into the lawn area.

We arrived just in time to see Barack Obama take his fumbled oath. (Seriously, how could Chief Justice Roberts flub up the oath the way he did?)

Nonetheless, “seeing” the oath is relative. We couldn’t really see anything, there were trees blocking the way, and there were no jumbo trons for our area and everyone was standing.

The speaker system was lousy and everything sounded like an echo. The oath took about 30 seconds and Obama’s speech as about 20 minutes long.

We were in line for 5 hours to see a 30 second oath and a 20 minute speech.

While the inauguration itself was a historic moment in our Nations history, much of the televised coverage depicted was not accurate. Ticket holders were treated the worst, and some never made it inside their designated areas. Meanwhile, those that showed up to be a part of the event took hold of the Mall area and its jumbo trons had best time. Facebook groups have already begun to form. And yes, I also started one.

2009 Inaugural Ceremony Tickets Nearly Killed Me!

Purplegate – “Let Us In!”

Survivors of the Purple Tunnel of Doom

At the end of the day, with the thousands of people that arrived, the Metro was completely shut down, since the streets were closed off, buses could not run, and taxi’s were not available. There was nothing to do but walk in the 20 degree weather and hope for the best.

Once the festivities were over, everyone was instructed to move one direction and there was no way we were going back into the tunnel of doom, which in retrospect was bad choice, we were then held hostage under “security measures” and not allowed to leave the lawn until the inaugural parade was over. Add another three hours in the cold weather with nowhere to sit and nothing to eat.

We saw the motorcade with Obama and family and the Bidens. By this point, it was hard to be excited. Really wished I had stayed home and watched in on CNN online.

Overall, we were finally allowed to leave around 3:30pm and we arrived home, walking off course, around 5pm, a whole 12 hours later.

I was so exhausted I did not go to any, which is ironic because I was staying 2 blocks away from the convention center.

The best part of the day was heating up a frozen lasagna, popping a champagne and watching the balls on CNN online.

Overall, the whole thing was OVERRATED.

Four University of Chicago students speak on Obama, race relations in America and what the future may hold.

Ohio Congressman Dennis Kucinich on the Gaza-Israeli Palestenian Conflict.

If the U.S is known for anything, it is our love for money and capitalism. I keep hearing the theme song to “The Apprentice” in my head. So while we celebrate this historic moment in history, what better way to demonstrate that than by pimping out our nations President-Elect?

With the economy being where it’s at, it’s no wonder that business are looking to make a little CHANGE.

Get it?!

From Pepsi, to street vendors, to mugs and tattoos, you too can come away with a little Hope at a bargain price! Literally!

Here are some pictures from the airport stores on my way into DC and stores in Georgetown to try the “Barack and Roll” martini —all for research purposes on course.

P.S. It continues to be extremely cold, windy, and I am a bit disappointed that there is no tamale lady. I could also really use some Mexican champurrado!

I left my warm and cozy apartment in East Los Angeles at 5:30am and didn’t arrive in Washington D.C until 10:30pm. Not only was this the longest flight in the universe, but the most nightmarish layover in Boston, ever. Thank you Priceline!

Since LAX is a complete nightmare, I didn’t want to run the risk of missing my place (it’s happen before!) I checked in one of my bags (which I had to pay $15 for) and then headed over to security to completely be stripped away of all self dignity. (Really? Do you really need to know what’s inside my shoes? I promise I am not hiding any explosives in my socks.)

Then, I had a layover in the worst airport in the world. Logan, Boston. It was ridiculously cold, freezing, and in case you didn’t know, each terminal is like it’s own mini-airport.

So I had to jump on a little bus, to go from Terminal C to Terminal B, THANK GOD I had taken my jacket and gloves with me. Enduring horrible freezing temperatures is new to me and frankly, I am not a fan. The cold and wind stung my face little tiny microscopic slaps. I had to run, with my laptop bag, my carry-on bag and my wet Ugg boots, because, of course, I stepped on a big pile of snow.

I had to go through security all over again. By this time, it was 5:55pm ET and my flight left to DC left at 6pm. I decided that there was no way I was missing my flight and ran from the check point to terminal 18. I was in my heavy wool coat, hat, scarves, gloves, laptop bag, and carry-on running through an airport I had never been in

Finally, I see a big 18 terminal sign with great big windows and my plane slowly moving away. Cue freak out:

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

I wanted to cry. I was tired, exhausted, cold, wet, and my hair was icicles. Jason, the guy working the desk took pity on me.

“You on the 6pm to DC?”

“I was suppose to be!” I responded almost in tears.

“Your flight has been delayed.”

OMG. Wow. The snow gods must have taken pity on me.
He said something about a malfunctioning plane and too much ice on the tarmac, but honestly at that point I wasn’t paying much attention. I hadn’t missed my flight!

So there I was, stranded now in Boston, only to realize there was no free wi-fi, none power outlets worked for my dead laptop, and I was hungry.

After what seemed hours, we finally boarded, and I arrived in DC to encounter more cold, minus the snow. My friend, Estee, had advised me that I could take the Yellow Metro from Reagan to the Convention Center. For $1.35, I, alongside many others with suitcases, got on the Metro and headed towards DC.

From an airport to a metro to the city: easy transportation. Wish we had something like that in Los Angeles!

Seven stops later, I was in Chinatown, DC, and had finally arrived to witness one of our nation’s most historic moments… and all I kept thinking was… “I wish I would have packed more socks.”

To Be Continued……