An illustration shows News Editor Isabella Westrich facing the realities of her community. Growing up, Westrich was unaware of many of the issues confronting Athens, but her perception of her town changed as she learned more. “I had to come to terms with the fact that my community was complicated. There were– are– some really ugly parts to the town I love and am proud to call home,” Westrich wrote. Illustration by Sam Harwell.
News Editor Isabella Westrich reflects on how her perception of her hometown has changed as she’s grown up.
Growing up in Athens, Georgia, to me my town meant the friendly neighborhood that I walked my dog through. It meant the picturesque Downtown that my family would show off to out-of-town visitors and the magnolia trees on the UGA’s sprawling North Campus that my siblings and I would climb. I blindly and completely loved my town, and I was proud of it.
I didn’t realize how sheltered I was.
When I got to Clarke Central High School, I joined its student publication, the ODYSSEY Media Group. ODYSSEY taught me to “seek truth and report it”, one pillar of the Society of Professional Journalists’ Code of Ethics. To do this, I had to learn more about Athens– even the uncomfortable parts.
I had to take a step back and look at my community objectively. And as I went on interviews where I asked questions and heard stories, I realized that there were more layers to it than I had thought. Athens has issues.
At first, I was just confused. Why were only 44% of students at CCHS proficient at reading, when we are literally right down the street from one of the top public universities in the nation? Why had Linnentown, a thriving Black community, been displaced, and why did most people not know about it? Why did some of my classmates have to deal with food insecurity issues that I, as the granddaughter of a restaurateur, had never even considered?
Why were only 44% of students at CCHS proficient at reading, when we are literally right down the street from one of the top public universities in the nation? Why had Linnentown, a thriving Black community, been displaced, and why did most people not know about it? Why did some of my classmates have to deal with food insecurity issues that I, as the granddaughter of a restaurateur, had never even considered?
Then I was angry, both at myself and at Athens. I was part of inequities I didn’t even know existed. How had I been so ignorant? Also, why wasn’t Athens better than this?
I had to come to terms with the fact that my community was complicated. There were– are– some really ugly parts to the town I love and am proud to call home.
However, I also learned about a lot of community members who are fighting to make Athens a better place. There’s Rashe Malcolm, who is working to reduce food insecurity; Hattie Thomas Whitehead, who is actively addressing discrimination; Johnnie Lay Burks, who broke barriers; Montu Miller, who is creating vibrant art and music, and so many more. Their work takes strength I couldn’t possibly understand if I didn’t understand what they were fighting against.
Becoming more aware of my community made my feelings towards it, bad and good, more meaningful. Maybe I can’t be proud of everything in Athens, but I can be even more proud of the very good things that are happening here. I can also do my part to move towards the changes we need.
I still love Athens. It will always be the place where I grew up, the place that holds most of my happiest memories. But now it’s also the place that taught me to look more critically and think harder about the world around me. It’s the place that forced me to take off my rose-colored glasses, but also showed me all the good things and the blind spots they were hiding. Just because something isn’t perfect doesn’t mean it’s not worthy of love.
