Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Home
Catholic
Evening in the Gardens of LaBelle

Evening in the Gardens of LaBelle

Last updated on: June 23, 2018 at 12:46 am by Mary Pezzulo

Evening in the Gardens of LaBelle 2018-06-23T00:46:27-04:00 Mary Pezzulo

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

The day’s heavy rain cleared up while Michael was running errands with Rosie. It was too beautiful to stay inside, writing. It looked like the right conditions for a rainbow, and I wanted to be outside to see one.

I went for a walk.

I left on a whim, without my cane or my purse where I keep my pepper spray. This turned out to be a mistake.

There was no rainbow over the LaBelle neighborhood just then, but there were other delights. I don’t like living in Steubenville, but there are still plenty of beautiful things, for those who know where to look. I listened to the church clock striking the Angelus from all the way downtown, and I prayed. I enjoyed the late afternoon sun and admired the clouds. I found a jumbled hedge of wild black raspberry bushes at the edge of a vacant lot, all tangled up with poison ivy and nettles. I admired the gardens– there really are some beautiful gardens here. I saw abundant rose bushes and jaunty tiger lilies in full bloom. I sniffed the honeysuckle that crowded over the path.

I was careful to walk on the opposite side of the street when I passed by some loud, intoxicated men on their porch. Just in case. I’ve found it relatively safe here, but things happen. I kept my distance from angry-looking people playing loud music. I stayed away from a grouchy-looking man walking a very large dog. I didn’t go down a certain street entirely. Just the usual precautions.

Every neighborhood has its scruffier parts, and LaBelle is about 70% scruffy. It’s also more than 70% poor. There are some upper-middle class people here who seem wealthy compared to the rest of us. Some of these are very kind, but a sizable and vocal number aren’t. They blame LaBelle’s poverty for its crime, and they don’t want to help the crime rates by helping poor people. They’ve said the poor are dangerous and responsible for making the neighborhood unsafe for their own children to play in. They’ve managed to pass ordinances in the town council to discourage the poor from renting here. Other folks around here don’t like people of color. When I moved into my current rental house, somebody wanting to assure me it was a safe street waved his hand at the neighboring houses. “It’s a safe block. White people live here, white people here, white people over there,” he’d said, to my horror.

As for me, I’ve noticed that the dangerous people of LaBelle are as likely to be white as not, and as likely to be poor as not. Race certainly never made anyone evil. Poverty doesn’t make people evil either. Sometimes it makes people desperate, and desperate people will commit crimes if they think it will help. But mainly, poverty makes evil harder to hide. Poor people can’t afford to hide their mistakes. They can’t rebuild burned-down houses or get cosmetic surgery; they can’t hire a really good lawyer or get into a good rehab. The richer you are, the more gloss you can afford to put over your faults.

I emerged from the shabbiest part of the neighborhood to the middle-class part, with the beautiful old Victorian houses. There are some truly lovely houses there. I admired the gardens and the shady trees as I passed down Oregon avenue.

That was why I didn’t notice the children until it was too late.

I passed a lovely yellow house with a perfect manicured garden. Six or seven young, well-groomed children in clean clothes were sitting on the front lawn, loudly playing. These children looked to be siblings; their light brown hair was all the same. They definitely weren’t poor– and for the record, since some blame LaBelle’s crime on race, they were white. They didn’t have an Appalachian accent or any of the other marks of being from the wrong side of LaBelle. This was their neighborhood. I was a stranger.

As I passed, one little girl said “Let’s follow her.”

And they did, all of them.

“Hey, Princess,” said the little girl. “Hey, Cinderella. Hey, Princess. Hey, Cinderella. Hey, bitch. F*ck you, Cinderella.”

All the children parroted her, repeating what she said and worse. The boys were more explicit; a boy who looked about eight kept talking about how much he wanted to have sex with me, only he didn’t call it “sex.” He didn’t seem to have a very good idea of how sex worked, and the anatomical couplings he asked for were shocking. They followed me down the block in this way, right up behind me until they were practically beside me, in grabbing distance and then even closer. They filled the sidewalk and spilled onto the berm, crowding me. There were enough of them that they could’ve knocked me over at any second, and they acted like they wanted to.

There was no side street down which to run away.

There was no one to help me on any of the porches I passed, and the children were getting more explicit.

I had nothing to defend myself with.

I tried to pick up a brick that was lining one of the flower gardens, thinking it could help shove their hands away when they grabbed me; I hoped it would at least make me intimidating. Of course, in my fear, I dropped the brick back into the flowerbed. I am not intimidating and don’t know how to be. If I did, I wouldn’t end up in situations like this in the first place.

They kept taunting, and they kept following, not decreasing their distance.

I turned.

“DO YOU WANT SOMETHING?” I asked in my loudest bellow.

“No,” said one little boy, grinning like Lucifer as the other children chanted insults. “We’re just walking this way.”

“THEN MOVE ON.”

They slid past me, still repeating obscenities and also threatening to tell their parents about my moving a brick that didn’t belong to me.

I went home as quickly as I could, to the shabby poor side of LaBelle where I’m told all the trouble comes from.

They really are beautiful gardens.

(image via Pixabay)

preferential option for non-violence

Previous Post

June 22, 2018

Two Mothers

Next Post

June 23, 2018 A Midsummer Petition

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category abortion Abuse Advent America American Christianity angel angels Annunciation Appalachia apparition apparition chaser apparition chasers apparition culture art art review babies baby baby Jesus Bad Lip Reading bad statue contest bath beauty Bible story blog blogkeeping blood book review Brandon Sanderson breastfeeding bus Catholic catholic conspiracy alarmism Catholic Oppositional Disorder Charismatic Renewal Charlie the Cat chastity Christ Christian idenitity Christianity and Judaism Chronic Illness clean clothing COD piece comedy compassion conscience conspiracy theory conversion cop-on-black violence Crucifixion cry of the poor culture Daesh Daily Saints death death penalty devotional diaconate diaper diapers dirty disability Donald Trump Dorothy Day dream drugs Eastern Catholicism Eastern Christianity education election election update Elsewhere on Patheos empathy environment Fear feminism film review fish flashback fluffy buns food Franciscan University of Steubenville Friendship Room fun Gabriel gardening gospel hair-splitting Heaven hell heresy Hillary Clinton history Holly the Witch Holy Spirit holy war Homeschooling homosexuality horror human dignity humor Icon idol immigrants infection inter-religious dialogue Interpretation of Scripture Islam Jesus Jihad Joseph joy laity and lay vocations lamb dinner laundry lent lgbtq literature love manners Mary Medicine and Science Meditation mercy mess milk misogyny Missouri monasticism monster motherhood mourn with those mourn movies movis music mystery nature neurodiversity New Pro-Life Movement news nonsense nostalgia O antiphons obituary objectification Ohio Valley Ordinary Time ordination Ordo Amoris parable paradox Passover peanut butter personal beliefs pets philosophy Planet Charismatic poetry politics polls poop Pope Francis Pope Leo power in the Church prayer prayer request prayers preferential option for non-violence president presidential election priest primary private revelation pro-life prophecy Public face of Catholicism Pure Flix Q and A race racism random rape rape. sexuality reader's request Reckoners refugee religious trauma ressurrection Right to life Saints saints and celebrations same-sex same-sex marriage satire scandal secular feasts seder Seven Joys Seven Last Words sex sexual ethics sexuality silencing six months skid row slavery social justice Speculative fiction spiritual abuse spoon stain story suffering suffrage suffragette Sunday Gospel temple Tenebrae Responsories Terror the exorcist The Friendship Room The New Pro-Life Movement Things I Learned on the Internet tin cup traffic true story tv review Uncategorized USCCB vice and temptation violence Virtue virtue and vice war Way of the Cross whimsy whole life women's ordination work of mercy Year A

Select a Month October 2026 September 2026 August 2026 July 2026 June 2026 May 2026 April 2026 March 2026 February 2026 January 2026 December 2025 November 2025 October 2025 September 2025 August 2025 July 2025 June 2025 May 2025 April 2025 March 2025 February 2025 January 2025 December 2024 November 2024 October 2024 September 2024 August 2024 July 2024 June 2024 May 2024 April 2024 March 2024 February 2024 January 2024 December 2023 November 2023 October 2023 September 2023 August 2023 July 2023 June 2023 May 2023 April 2023 March 2023 February 2023 January 2023 December 2022 November 2022 October 2022 September 2022 August 2022 July 2022 June 2022 May 2022 April 2022 March 2022 February 2022 January 2022 December 2021 November 2021 October 2021 September 2021 August 2021 July 2021 June 2021 May 2021 April 2021 March 2021 February 2021 January 2021 December 2020 November 2020 October 2020 September 2020 August 2020 July 2020 June 2020 May 2020 April 2020 March 2020 February 2020 January 2020 December 2019 November 2019 October 2019 September 2019 August 2019 July 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019 December 2018 November 2018 October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

What does the Sword of the Spirit represent?

Select your answer to see how you score.

The Holy Spirit The Word of God Faith The power of prayer