San Francisco's Tenderloin Through the Eyes of Its Youth

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San Francisco's Tenderloin Through the Eyes of Its Youth

by Barbara Cervone and youth at Boys & Girls Clubs of San Francsico, Tenderloin Clubhouse | DECEMBER 15, 2014

For the past several months, WKCD has been working with youth at Boys & Girls Clubs of San Francisco's Tenderloin Clubhouse to create a photo essay book about their "village," just blocks from the city's wealthy financial district. Known for its large population of homeless and drug dealers and its long history of ill-repute, the Tenderloin has also become a bustling home to immigrant families drawn to its low rents.

Since 2011, the Tenderloin Clubhouse has offered an award-winning photo voice program to its youth. Our book will present the images, voices, and perspectives from these young photo journalists, growing up in what most regard as San Francisco's most troubled neighborhood. It's a story you won't want to miss.

In September, we shared the first chapter of In Our Village: San Francisco's Tenderloin Through the Eyes of Its Youth, along with the personal stories of Eslah, a 16-year-old from Yemen, and Albert, 18, who was born in Vietnam.

Here we share three additional chapters: on hard work and sacrifice, danger and safety, and food. Youth at the Tenderloin Clubhouse took virtually all of the photos that appear in the book.

Hard work and sacrifice

SHORT-ORDER COOK, CHAMBERMAID, ten-hour days, minimum wage. In a neighborhood where unemployment spills onto the sidewalks, hard work is a subject kids at the Tenderloin Club know by heart. They have learned it from their parents, for whom labor and sacrifice is a reflex, like breathing.

My parents are both immigrants from the Philippines. When my mom came here, she started working the moment she arrived. Same with my dad. They’ve always stressed hard work. My father works in the ferry building, from nine in the morning until six or seven at night. My mom is an on-call interpreter, so she never knows when she’ll have to go to her job. – Francelle, 14

My mom works eight hours a day in a paper factory that makes folders and notebooks. She has worked since she was a child. – Joline, 15

When my parents first came to the U.S., they started working and have worked so many jobs over the years—more than you can count—without ever giving up. They wake up, they work all day in their workplace, then they come home and do all the chores that a family requires. They never quit. – Wendy, 15

My mother cleans people’s houses, my dad works making marbles. – Marco, 10

My dad works as a cook and he’s good at it. But he’s always getting cut or burned. He cooks and accidentally hurts himself, usually on the hand. I tell him to be careful at his job. – Dayana, 9

My mom is unemployed, but she works really hard. She washes all the dishes, buys all the food, watches the kids. She does work sometimes, but her boss is mean. With what she earns, she helps pay the bills, the taxes. – Rutherford, 15

My parents being immigrants, my mom was always working hard just to get us out of the streets, out of the neighborhood. My dad used to work, too, until he got injured at his job. My mom works in a nail salon. When she first came here, she wanted to start a business, like some of her friends. She still has hopes and dreams. Hard work means everything to her, it’s constantly on her mind. – Albert, 18

Hard work has become a reflex for Tenderloin Club youth, too.

It means showing my parents that I actually try and learn from what they are telling me. Seeing my parents work so hard motivates me to work hard, to have a better future for myself. – Francelle

Since it means everything to my mom, it means everything to me. She is always pushing me to be better than her and my dad. The best way I can pay back her sacrifice and her dreams is to work as hard as she has, to become someone, to do something. – Albert

Hard work is part of playing the game of life. It’s one of the cards you play. It’s something I’ve signed up for, that I see in my parents. – Calvin, 18

My aunt, who raised me since I was nine, has taught me a lot about hard work. She says it isn’t just long hours working for minimum wage. It’s about taking advantage of what comes along—and doing everything you can for your family. – Christian, 15

Determination, motivation, and a little bit of inspiration. Maybe you can’t see these beliefs in the youth of the Tenderloin because it’s hidden in their hearts. But take it from me. You’ll find more kids here with dreams in their heart, working their butt off to achieve their goals. – Jonjett, 16

For older kids at the Clubhouse, caring for younger siblings is their first job. “You are responsible for taking care of your brothers and sisters,” says Dayana who has two younger brothers. “It’s a big responsibility. Your parents expect that. My mom always tells me, ‘You have to be the leader.’”

There is an unspoken agreement that teens with paying jobs will contribute to the family budget. “I started working ever since I was a sophomore,” Naim explains. “When I got my first job, my dad said I needed to start paying for my own lunch and my clothes and stuff. I needed to take a load off my dad.” He describes his work life:

This year, my senior year, I scored a job at the [San Francisco] Exploratorium, as well as becoming a teen staff member at the Club—all while balancing school and keeping a GPA above 3.0. I work at the Club nine hours a week, at the Exploratorium 24 hours a week. I work every day, weekends too, except for Mondays. When I got the Exploratorium job, I started paying everyone’s phone bill, electricity, things around the house like groceries. That’s my duty now. It’s a lot of stress, but I keep going.

Danger and safety

“DON’T YOU WORRY ABOUT GETTING KILLED?” people sometimes ask young people at the Clubhouse. The Tenderloin has the highest rate of violent crime of any district in San Francisco.

But youth who live in the Tenderloin learn to size up danger, they explain.

“The homeless man staring up from the sidewalk may look scary, but he means no harm,” says a middle-school-age girl sitting outside the art room. “The people lined up outside the soup kitchen, they may cause you to look away, but they aren’t dangerous.”

“The people who dress weird, they’re into show,” her friend adds. “The ones that steal for drugs, now that’s danger. But it’s not us they’re after.”

In 2012, adults in the Tenderloin started “Safe Passages,” a program to protect kids on their way to and from afterschool programs. On the walk up Jones Street from the Clubhouse, a sidewalk trail of yellow footprints and drawings of children holding hands stretches ten blocks. Every afternoon, the Club’s teen and adult staff members follow the footprints, escorting kids in groups from nearby schools to the Clubhouse. At the end of the day, staff members walk those children home who live along the path.

“You see the mural of boys and girls and trees and stars and hearts and lots of color?” points out Maria. “We drew that with chalk with our art teacher. It shows a safe world.”

Seventeen-year-old Eslah, who has lived in the Tenderloin since she was two, has her own views on safety. “Living in the Tenderloin, I don’t really notice that much crime,” she says, “even though you hear the sirens everywhere.” My cousin’s friends that come from Oakland, they be like, “Oh, how can you live in the Tenderloin?” I’m like, “Yeah, it’s scary, but the people are nice.” That’s the thing. You walk and mind your own business and they mind theirs. Actually, they respect you. Some give me Salaam, they say “hi,” you know, in Islamic. And I’m just like, “Oh, hi!” It feels good.

Dayana, age nine, makes another point.

All the children that go to the Club are a big family. We take care of each other—we are the keepers of our brothers and sisters and other people’s brothers and sisters. And the staff are our keepers, too. The Club is our safety zone.

Talking about food

WHICH TASTES BETTER, pupusas or samosas, pho or falafel? What’s the difference between northern and southern Vietnamese food? Who likes mac and cheese, popcorn, bacon? Who enjoys school lunch?

In the Tenderloin, food is a complicated subject. For the kids at the Club, there’s what you eat at home, what you find in the small restaurants all around the neighborhood, American food, federal breakfast and lunch, donated food, snacks, and more.

They start by describing what they eat at home. “My mom is from the Philippines and she likes to cook adobo.” “My family is from Mexico and we eat carne asada.” “My mom and dad suffered under the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia and everything my mom makes involves rice.” “My parents are from Korea. My dad does the cooking and he likes to prepare kimchi.”

Albert’s mother is a vegetarian and the food his father makes doesn’t appeal to him. So he prepares his own meals. “Last night I made codfish and rice.”

When Eslah talks about her mother’s cooking—and her own contributions—the words tumble out.

It is the last day of Ramadan, a month-long fast. When we break our fast, we break it with dates and shafuta, which is like bread and buttermilk with a lot of different spices. We also have sambusas. I think that’s a famous one. Then there’s the Arabic dish aseed. I don’t know how to explain it, it’s like a mixture of flour and water and salt. And I love making this special Arabic custard called labaniyyah. We mix in other things to give it an extra taste. Yesterday, my mom put graham crackers in the middle, and then she asked me to add my ideas. I put sprinkles on the top. Everybody loved it! And I was like, “Yay! There you go! I put my hand in it!”

ON THE STREETS HERE, RESTAURANTS AND SANDWICH SHOPS serve up specialties like these and much more. The Tenderloin has become known for good and inexpensive ethnic food. The bahn mi at Saigon Sandwiches, at $3.25 each, draw long lines every day. Down the street, Burmese Kitchen serves fermented tealeaf salad with cabbage.

Someone told Evelynn that the paneer in an Indian restaurant near here was “the best they had ever tasted,” she said. Christian, who is from Honduras, reports that “there’s Latin American food on every corner,” although he admits that in the nearby Mission District “it’s much, much better.”

In fact, few of these Clubhouse youth eat at restaurants that win stars from critics. They say they would rather get treated to a meal at Kentucky Fried Chicken or a smoothie at Emo’s Café and Deli.

“THE FOOD I DON’T CARE FOR,” notes Marco, “is the lunch we get at school—you know, the government lunch. It has no taste and it’s hard to swallow.” All the Clubhouse youth qualify for that free or reduced-price lunch. And some of their parents frequent one of the food pantries spread across the Tenderloin. “That’s how I learned about peanut butter,” one nine-year-old says.

At the corner of Taylor and Ellis Streets, the line at Glide Memorial Church stretches around the block, a familiar streetscape for the Clubhouse youth. Glide houses one of the city’s oldest and best-known soup kitchens, feeding several thousand people a day. Today’s lunch includes a tuna sandwich, stewed carrots, macaroni and cheese, a ripe apple, and a small cup of organic strawberry ice cream.

What Kids Can Do, Inc. | info@whatkidscando.org | www.whatkidscando.org