A lesson on diversity learned in Brooklyn

By David Wonpu

The bulk of last summer was, like many summers before it, spent trying to pass the time. My days were typically spent consuming bags of marshmallows and watching the same four episodes of "Veronica Mars." But, for a week in August, I was shocked out of my suburban sloth by participating in a program called Passionist Volunteers.

The program runs several help sites in New York, from a food bank and housing repair service to a nursing home. While these services are in Wyoming County, N.Y., the program also runs a two-week peace camp in Brooklyn.

The camp is held in a neighborhood called Bedford-Stuyvesant, one of those inner-city areas in America that is famous for all the wrong reasons. The area has produced many celebrities, from rappers like the Notorious B.I.G. and Jay-Z to comedian Chris Rock.

Perhaps more well-known than its one-time denizens, however, is the negative perception that hangs over the area like a dark cloud. A common mantra employed by New Yorkers to describe the neighborhood is "Bedford-Stuy, Do or Die."

The area has a few comforts to which a suburbanite is accustomed. Forget an epic monument to consumerism like the Valley Fair Shopping Mall, there isn't even a Target or a Safeway. Instead, the residents have a single laundromat, a supermarket the size of Market Square in Benson Memorial Center and a number of corner stores with the sole intention of selling a particular product: alcohol.

The camp, which is held in the afternoon for children ages five to thirteen, is in a dilapidated, three-story schoolhouse.

For every age group there are two volunteers who must structure lesson plans every night centered on concepts like understanding and acceptance. They must also help prepare lunch before camp, clean up their workspaces after camp, occasionally lead an evening reflection and, finally, prepare dinner.

It took me a few days before I got used to just how different it was. Days were hot, humid and exhausting. But, even without amenities, I consider it one of the most memorable experiences of my life.

One of the greatest rewards was experiencing how life was for people who grew up differently than I did. One of the kids, Alex, a baseball prodigy who admires New York Yankees players Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez, said he liked living in the area because everyone knew each other.

Another resident, Olga, said she liked living in Bedford-Stuyvesant because there are people of many different backgrounds. This sentiment was reiterated by many of the children in the program who constantly requested I teach them Chinese.

It was then that I had started thinking of my own childhood, and I remembered being the only Asian kid in school, with the majority of the other children making fun of my eyes and "stupid" last name. Mandarin lessons were the last thing they would have wanted for themselves.

The fact that these children in Brooklyn liked where they lived because it was diverse ran counter to the suburban boom of the last fifty years, which was fueled by, among other things, a need to get away from people who are different. This was a need to get away from people like the ones I met in Bedford-Stuyvesant.

Sometimes the volunteers would decide that discussion was the best method of teaching, especially if they were working with the older groups. Since I was with the youngest group, however, I learned that nothing captures a child's attention more than SpongeBob SquarePants.

By the time I completed my third impromptu puppet show, something ironic and disappointing occurred to me. I was teaching diversity to a very diverse group of children whose backgrounds ranged from Jamaican and Puerto Rican to Dominican, yet privileged children who grow up in homogenous white and Asian areas aren't being taught the same thing.

My experience in Brooklyn taught me that volunteering not only benefits those receiving help, but those providing it. I was able to experience a world supposedly inferior to mine, but instead of wishing the kids I met could live where I lived, I found myself wanting many of the things they had.

Understanding different viewpoints is an important aspect of the college experience. We are supposed to challenge the things we hold to be true before our belief systems lose any sense of pliancy. I know that many of us are afraid and would prefer to stay in our respective comfort zones. However, for those of us who merely complain about an American mainstream that glorifies violence and idiocy, we owe it to those we are purportedly fighting for to actually understand their lives.

We must challenge each other and ask, for instance, is East Palo Alto really "scary?" Do we lock our doors when driving through Oakland because we are really convinced that we will be shot? Or, do we feel that way because we are conditioned to believe that we are somehow superior to people who haven't been given a fair shot at life?

After Brooklyn, I resolved to take full advantage of the opportunities I've been given and stop complaining. If the children I met can be happy with their lives, I have absolutely no reason to complain about mine.

David Wonpu is a senior English major.