"What's for Supper" event

I worked at a health fair today at the new Akron Urban League building. The fair was created as a partnership program between Akron General and the Akron Metropolitain Housing Authority (AMHA), and was only open to those who live in AMHA housing – aka "the projects." The Urban League building is on the grounds of a former playground/ballfield, next to the projects, in a predominantly African American part of town on Vernon Odom Blvd.

Looking around at the various "vendors" at the fair compared to the people attending the fair, I couldn't help but notice an obvious disparity. It was like "white people bringing minorities stuff" day. A demonstration of the "haves" and the "have nots." Behind the tables for vendors sat the privileged: the college-educated white people. Invariably, people of color were on the other side of the table, Latinos and African Americans mostly. School supplies, food, books, glucose and cholesterol screenings and information on health care and child care programs and even groceries were given out for free.

I remember when I was fourteen when my parents had no furniture and we got cheese from the cheese line (they still had cheese lines then). I remember wearing the same clothes several times a week because I didn't have a lot, and washing them in the bathtub, drying them with a bath towel (I learned the way to roll the clothes up in the towel to soak the water out) because we didn't have a washer, dryer or money for the laundr-o-mat. It's amazing kids didn't make fun of me; maybe that's how I learned to develop character.

The experience was humbling for me, but I wonder how my life had turned out had my parents never gotten on their feet? Would I have lived in AMHA housing? Would I have gone to college?

A black woman with an Outkast t-shirt stands with her three kids at a table collecting school supplies. I hear her announce to the white person behind the table she has two first graders and a second grader, then she quickly reprimands one of the children who are milling around excitedly under her feet.
"Move out the way! I will do this!" she booms. The kids become silent. She looks hardened; she walks with a swagger that says, "don't mess with me." Her kids, two boys and a girl, all walk with the same swagger. Her bottom lip juts out slightly, and her straightened black hair hangs stiffly to her shoulders. Despite her and her children's tough exterior, I can tell this is like Christmas in August for them.

A middle-aged white man with a black polo shirt and tan khakis walks around taking pictures and smiling. He looks proud of himself, as if his photographic documentary of this philanthropic generosity is somehow bettering the world.

A fresh young pretty white girl from the Metro Housing Authority asks a corn-row wearing black girl, who looks to be about 10, what grade she's going to be in. The black girl just stares blankly at her without offering an answer. The pretty girl hands her a spiral bound notebook and moves on to the next corn-row wearing youngster.

It's a steady stream of corn-rows and dark skin. The children are amazingly well-behaved as they sit politely with their respective families awaiting dinner or quietly gather school supplies from tables.