“As the years flew by and time progressed, people did not get any less cruel to each other,” the Ghost of California’s Past voice rumbled and shook the empty space I had laid in silently for quite sometime. Although I realized that history would continue to repeat itself throughout the years, the strength and motivation that seeped into my mindset made me want to face whatever kind of cruelty the Ghost had planned for me to witness.

“I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about the segregation of the fifties,” the Ghost’s familiar cackle echoed as my surroundings swirled into a club scene. I was in the middle of an audience where a familiar looking colored woman was crooning into the microphone. “Strange fruit..hanging..from the poplar trees,” she continued. That song sounded so familiar. I could have sworn it was from the beginning of one of the Kanye West songs on my iTunes playlists.

I stepped closer to the stage to listen to the woman’s marvelous vocals. Her voice sounded so recognizable when I overheard fellow audience members talking about Billie Holiday and how this was a decent venue in West Hollywood. I crept up closer to listen to their conversation about how the song she was singing, “Strange Fruit,” was about the lynching of African Americans. Everything started processing in my head when I immediately realized what was going on. This couldn’t be. My mother worshipped Billie Holiday’s songs and to think I was seeing her live in the flesh! This history lesson couldn’t be too shabby.

As soon as I thought about all of those positive aspects about the night, some random audience member started heckling her midway through the song. Her face grimaced at him and she appeared to be beginning her exit although she was not finished singing. The next thing I know, she slashed the menacing man with a sharp knife and I could not believe it. The entire audience snapped out of their daze and gasped. As I put my hand up to my mouth to let out a sharp gasp, the Ghost immediately transported me back into the darkness.

“Wait!! I want to know what happened,” I cried. Throughout this journey, I had never stepped up to the Ghost to want to know more about a certain situation, but I developed a burning sense in me to hunger for more knowledge.

“Wow! You sure have grown, but just wait. There’s more to come. However, what you just witnessed was one of Billie Holiday’s performances in a West Hollywood club. She actually stabbed the heckler and was “charged with assault and battery, but the case was dismissed when the victim, under cross examination by Walter Gordon, refused to give his name and address (1950s California Powerpoint.)

The Ghost was feeding off of my confidence and it was making me happy. Every step closer to home was a major advance to me. His voice filled the room again, but this time it was even louder. “So, have you heard of the term ‘wetback,’” he asked inquisitively. I nodded slightly because all I knew about that word had to do with racial slurs. “You could only ever begin to imagine the preposterous actions that occurred in this state. I’ll let you see for yourself,” he chuckled as he flipped my scenery yet again.

    I rubbed my eyes desperately when I found myself in an intense crowd. All I could see around me were Mexican families all around me. The aura of fear and confusion crept onto me as well. My confidence started to die down because all I could hear were people speaking Spanish around me and I had no idea what was going on. In what seemed like years, a white officer grabbed my arm and yanked me to the side. “Girls like you shouldn’t be here. What do you think you’re doing?” said the tall officer. I looked up at him with inquisitive eyes that begged to know what was going on. He looked down at me and began, “You’re coming in my patrol car. I’ll take you back.”

    As I hopped in his border patrol car, the officer continued with a look of disgust. “I don’t know how you got lost in Operation Wetback. We’re trying to locate, process and deport illegal aliens. Them wetbacks have been trying to take up all our jobs. Our targets are right here in California.” I was appalled. I had no idea that anything like this happened in California. I thought we were past that age! Alas, I remembered that the Ghost warned me that people did not get any less cruel. “Where do they go?” I found myself thinking out loud. “Well, our command teams take the illegals down to Mexico where we hand them down to their kind of officials. From there, who cares,” he exclaimed with a smug grin on his face. The look of horror on my face had the Ghost yank me out of that situation and back into the darkness.

“I see that you’re scared. For our next decade, would you like to experience terror or happiness?” the Ghost asked kindly. I couldn’t tell if this was a trick question so I answered terror with quick confidence. “Just so you know, the late sixties was ‘America’s descent into darkness’ (Bloodbath: New Hollywood, New Right, and the Carnography of Power, 1960s to 1990s),” he echoed. Almost instantly, I was teleported into a new situation.

The taped off gated address in front of me read 10050 Cielo Drive. There were news anchors and camera men all along the side. I don’t think anyone could see me. I noticed that the word “pig” was smeared across the front door with a reddish tint. Instant chills rushed down my spine.

I felt really weezy to think that I was at a fresh murder scene. The Ghost’s voice sprang about, but I was still in the same place. “Sharon Tate’s ‘celebrity and beauty made her the target Manson sought, someone whose gruesome death would shock the Whites of Los Angeles into a murderous rampage against people of color’ (Bloodbath: New Hollywood, New Right, and the Carnography of Power, 1960s to 1990s). “Charles Manson and his ‘family’ wanted to cause political terror. It was one of the most widely followed trials.”

    I was disgusted. The word “pig” on the door made me dizzy and I could not stop but to think about how disgusting and gruesome the murders were. I remembered reading about them in magazines and it all made me nauseous. I ran away from the scene as fast as my legs could take me.
As my surroundings swirled and shifted around me, I found myself running out of breath. I put my hands on my knees to catch my breath when I realized I was at a movie theater. Illuminated in front of me was a large poster that read, “Deep Throat.” After all that I had witnessed in the Sharon Tate murder reportings, I just started dying of laughter.

Faster than I could control it, I was in a room overlooking what I think could be the streets of Los Angeles. In front of me was a man with a rather large camera filming something from his balcony. Knowing he could not see me, I crept up behind him to see what was going on. I was instantly shocked at what I saw. Four cops were beating a man brutally. Trying to catch my balance at my shock of the brutality of the Los Angeles Police Department, I fell backwards onto my butt where my environment changed again.

     I caught myself in the middle of a dark street. All I could see around me were people running around in attempt to destroy things. The only things that were lit that I could see around me were burning buildings. The Ghost’s voice warned me, “What you witnessed was George Holliday taping Rodney King getting brutally abused by the LAPD. He sent it to KTLA and it went national very quickly. What came forth was the the 1992 Rodney King Riots, or L.A. riots, which  ‘expressed a multi-way lashing out within an intensively repressive militarized police state.’ All kinds of cultures were affected in this large riot, including African Americans, Korean Americans and Latinos as well. Many of the violence of this riot was done for television cameras. The most notorious beating was of Reginald Denny, who was beaten on Florence and Normandie in L.A. You are about to witness this right now.”

    I gasped as I suddenly saw a group of black assailants started beating an innocent man. They had literally pulled him from his truck. There were helicopters hovering above him filming the entire beating while the LAPD stayed safely distant. The violence was terrifying. All of a sudden, one of those who was beating Reginald Denny spotted me. He pointed at me. I did not think anyone could see me, but apparently they could and I was absolutely frightened. His group began to sprint towards me and I brought myself to sprint as fast as I possibly could. I could hear their voices and steps behind me because they were way faster than me. Where was the Ghost when I needed him? Suddenly, a strong hand yanked my arm.

     *RRRIIIINNNNGGGGGG* *RRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG*