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Once the center of a ‘ghetto,' a Santa Ana playground revamp hopes to rebuild community connections
Once the center of a ‘ghetto,' a Santa Ana playground revamp hopes to rebuild community connections

Los Angeles Times

time3 days ago

  • Los Angeles Times

Once the center of a ‘ghetto,' a Santa Ana playground revamp hopes to rebuild community connections

Roberto Alcaras has a fondness for the place he's lived his entire life, but even he admits that the Bishop Manor townhome community in Santa Ana was not safe. Former Santa Ana Police Chief Paul Walters reportedly once called it the worst neighborhood in the city. Violence, gangs and drug dealing were commonplace. 'This was the ghetto,' said Alcaras, who turned 38 on Friday and has lived in four different residences in the 164-unit townhome community over the decades. 'This was bad.' He said the community has become racially divided over the years. Latino Americans live on the north end and Cambodian Americans on the south end of the property, a mix of renters and homeowners. The playground in the middle of Bishop Manor could have served as a unifying element. Instead, the dilapidated space served more as a litterbox for neighborhood cats. 'There were broken swings [and] hazards,' said Alcaras, who lives in the community with three of his seven children. '[There were] broken glass bottles. I don't know if I can use big words other than 'trash.'' Alcaras became the president of the Bishop Manor homeowners association a couple of years ago, but the community also needed outside help. Enter the Orange County chapter of Community Associations Institute, a nonprofit organization that advocates for HOAs and other community associations. CAI broke ground on a Bishop Manor playground reconstruction project on Thursday. CAIOC President-elect Mike Perlof said that on Saturday, many of the nonprofit's members would join in a big work party at the property. It's all part of a new CAIOC program launched in January that's called CAID. 'Our sole purpose is to identify communities that need help with whatever,' said Perlof, a Santa Ana resident who serves as the committee chair. 'It can be anything. This is our first pilot project. I think this one really pulled on the heartstrings of our board and our membership, not only because of the playground.' Kidworks, a play-based learning nonprofit based in Santa Ana, was using the Bishop Manor clubhouse as a meeting place until roof damage forced them to relocate years ago. Perlof said that Scott Kutner, a CAI member and philanthropist who runs the HOA Community Reinvestment Fund of Orange County, wanted to help out. 'His organization had done a lot of legwork identifying Bishop Manor in specific, but just communities in need in general throughout Orange County,' Perlof said. 'It's like the perfect fit.' Due to insurance issues, CAID was limited in how much it could help with the clubhouse, so it focused its attention on the playground. Conor Ross is a construction manager volunteering his time to lead the entire build. He lives just a few miles away from Bishop Manor, which makes the project a bit more personal for him. 'This playground being right in the middle [of the complex], this is the chance for the cultures to mix,' he said. 'It's like oil and water, if it weren't for the kids. Having this super-cool, beautiful playground makes that possible. I can't think of a much better use of our time than helping out here.' Donations from a long list of project partners are making it possible, with BEHR Paint and Precision Painting donating a deep blue for a pair of mural walls. Ross' office manager, who operates her own Sheryl Bale Photography business, is designing murals on each wall. Gone will be graffiti and what Ross called a 'death post,' a short post that was formerly the bottom of a slide that could seriously injure or kill a child that fell on top of it. Perlof, a licensed general contractor, said he was so excited to start the process that he couldn't sleep on Wednesday night. 'They're just dealing with keeping the homes habitable,' he said of the Bishop Manor homeowners association. 'The playground and clubhouse are on the back burner, and they have been for it seems like a long time ... [The kids] all have their own agendas for the playground, which is adorable. Mostly it's been a lot of, 'Fix our soccer field, can we get grass?' Turf will be installed on roughly half of the playground, where the children indeed already play soccer, using the gates on each side as goals. Wood chips will comprise the rest of the area. Perlof said he anticipates having a ribbon-cutting ceremony for the playground later this month. He credited CAIOC executive director Denise Kennedy for supporting the project. 'This is totally out of the box for CAI,' he said. 'It's something that's new and different, and she's leading the charge.' Perlof said that CAID hopes to work on a significant project each year, uplifting other neighborhoods around the county. Meanwhile, Antis Roofing is working on repairing the Bishop Manor clubhouse roof. Alcaras said the goal is for Kidworks to return by mid-August. That, combined with the new playground, could transform Bishop Manor. Alcaras, a successful youth soccer coach in the area, will soon have a safe place for his youngest child, a 6-year-old daughter, to play. 'I'm grateful that there's people out there willing to help the community like this,' he said. 'I was joking around that it's not Bishop Manor, it's residential Bishop Manor now … I consider this residential. I consider this a place for families to live.'

‘Radical joy': Cambodians gather to celebrate Khmer New Year on the 50th Killing Fields anniversary
‘Radical joy': Cambodians gather to celebrate Khmer New Year on the 50th Killing Fields anniversary

The Guardian

time30-04-2025

  • General
  • The Guardian

‘Radical joy': Cambodians gather to celebrate Khmer New Year on the 50th Killing Fields anniversary

'Sousdey chnam thmey!' a rider shouted in Khmer into a megaphone while sitting atop a float swaddled in US and Cambodian flags. 'Happy new year!' parade-goers yelled back from the street. Thousands of Cambodian Americans gathered to celebrate the Khmer New Year in Long Beach's Cambodia Town district – the heart of the largest diaspora of Cambodians in the United States. Traditionally, the new year is celebrated over three days in mid-April in south-east Asia at the end of harvesting season. This year's celebration was the 17th annual parade organized by Cambodia Town Inc and also the 50th anniversary of the Khmer Rouge's four-year reign of terror that began in 1975. Under a communist-led regime, more than a million Cambodians were murdered in mass executions known as the Killing Fields. Throughout the 80s and 90s, Cambodians arrived in the US as refugees fleeing the violence of their home country and settled in Long Beach. Today, 4% or about 20,000 Long Beach residents identify as Khmer, the highest concentration of Cambodians outside of south-east Asia. 'The parade itself … shows resiliency and also shows the strength of our community that comes together,' said Sithea San, chair and co-founder of Cambodia Town Inc, one of the thousands of Cambodians who survived the genocide and arrived in the US as a teenager. Richer San, Sithea's husband, said the parade originated from a push to bring resources and bring awareness to the Cambodian community along the Anaheim corridor back in 2005. 'One of the goals is to heal the survivors of the Killing Fields, and, of course, also to bring business to the small businesses in that area,' said Richer. Sophy Khut, owner of Sophy's: Cambodia Town Food & Music, had her hands full at the festival, slicing pre-marinated meat for their most popular item on the menu: beef skewers. 'Our Cambodian food is unique,' said Khut, 57, who started the restaurant after graduating from college and had to recruit some help to meet the demand. 'We use a lot of healthy herbs like lemongrass, galangal, kaffir.' Khut's friend, Karen Ing, pitched in by skewering slices of meat for the grill. She said the food festival attracts Cambodians from all over in search of home and nostalgia. Unlike other Asian cuisines such as Korean or Chinese food, Cambodian food isn't as readily available. ' I don't think anywhere else has Cambodian food at the moment,' Ing said of the distinct and vibrant food scene in Long Beach. But she's been noticing that the festival is continuously growing year after year even amongst non-Cambodian audiences. ' We just don't have that many in terms of population and exposure, so this festival gives that.' On the festival stage, a rock band ensemble energized a crowd as they line danced to a medley of Cambodian classics from singers such as Sinn Sisamouth and Pen Ran – artists who had disappeared in the backlash against western music during the 1970s, but whose work survived and endures with music lovers. The cloudless day did not deter the intergenerational celebration as people danced in the streets along the parade route, Buddhist monks offered blessings, and rowdy children jumped around inflatable bounce houses. ' You can see on their face we call radical joy,' Sithea said. Locals such as Teig Sida could watch the entire festivities from his front porch across, as the parade snaked through the streets of Long Beach, a coastal city in south-eastern Los Angeles county. Sida, 60, remembers taking his children to the first parade in 2007 and now takes his grandkids. 'I try to get rid of the past,' he said of surviving the Khmer Rouge. As he passes down traditions, he doesn't want his family's future to be defined by the trauma of the past. 'We try to keep our culture going,' Sida said as he waved to passersby while holding aloft a money tree he planned to donate to a temple later. 'You have to remember where you're from.' Mental health is the other dimension of the parade's importance for Richer and Sithea who are outreach coordinators with Pacific Asian Counseling Resources. Because of the war and trauma, some Cambodian survivors feel shame around the negative associations with their cultural identity and history, Richer said. A 2005 study of Cambodians in Long Beach found that 62% of survivors had post-traumatic stress disorder, rates much higher than 4% for the general population. A third of Cambodian households in Long Beach live below the poverty line in comparison to 12% of Asian Americans overall in Los Angeles county, according to UCLA's 2013 report on the state of Cambodia Town. ' If you don't have a good mental health. It will affect your physical health,' said Sithea. Richer said that survivors like himself who have PTSD can unintentionally alienate their family members by refusing to talk about their trauma. Their kids ' feel stressed because they didn't understand why their parent react to a certain environment', said Richer. But he said the parade offers an opportunity for families to address the past and to bond over their culture and history. 'The parade bring all of them. You see that they walk together, three generations,' said Richer. Mila Kristensen was a baby when the Khmer Rouge took over Phnom Penh and was attending the Cambodian New Year festival with her nine-year-old daughter, Caija. 'It's really fun,' said Caija of the festival. ' I can meet all my friends, make new ones and eat food that I don't have at San Diego.' Mila and Caija had driven several hours that weekend to participate in the parade. ' A lot of people still remember the history, but we don't want the history to repeat to the next generation,' said Kristensen who lost her father in the genocide. A devout Buddhist, she holds on to her practice as a reminder to extend peace and love to the rest of the world and wants to pass that on to her daughter as well. ' By having a happy moment celebrating Cambodian New Year is to remind the new generation: do not repeat the history, be happy, be blessful,' she said. Sithea said she's seen the festival and parade shift the narrative around Cambodian American identity away from shame for the community to one of belonging and healing intergenerational trauma. 'Some young generation, they don't want to identify themselves as Cambodian because of the Killing Field,' Sithea said of Cambodians who have struggled with an identity crisis. ' But after the parade, they feel that they have pride.' The festival has helped younger Cambodian Americans reconnect with their cultural roots. While older generations were wearing more traditional attire, like a sampot skirt tucked along the waist with a matching av pak blouse, gen Z youth paired casual streetwear with checkered silk krama scarves. ' People didn't let the whole war take away from how they feel about their culture and how they feel about the other people in their culture,' said Khloe Phornsovann, 16, whose paternal grandparents are Laotian from Cambodia. 'It brought them together, if anything.' Sean Soun grew up on the east side of Long Beach and encountered stereotypes about Cambodia being a poor country or people who didn't recognize his background under the umbrella of Asian American identity. He appreciates how the parade presents the richness of his cultural heritage. 'It is good to have these types of festivals to show'em what we're really about,' said the 17-year-old high school senior. 'I love how everybody loves our culture and they wanna be a part of it.'

Dignity Living CEO: We Are Cambodian American and the Time to Change Our Survivor Status Is Now
Dignity Living CEO: We Are Cambodian American and the Time to Change Our Survivor Status Is Now

Reuters

time12-03-2025

  • Business
  • Reuters

Dignity Living CEO: We Are Cambodian American and the Time to Change Our Survivor Status Is Now

LONG BEACH, CA, March 12, 2025 (EZ Newswire) -- For decades, the Cambodian American community has carried the weight of its past—a history defined by survival against unimaginable odds. But today, Jeff Lam, CEO of Dignity Living and a prominent community mentor, is urging a transformation—a true shift in mindset that goes far beyond charity or nostalgic remembrance. 'We are not Cambodian. We are not simply Americans. We are the Cambodian American community,' Lam asserts, encapsulating the dual identity that he believes should drive the future. 'We're on the cusp of great change,' Lam says. 'But it's up to us to shape what that change looks like. Will we remain stuck in a cycle of blame and victimhood? Or will we honor the resilience of our ancestors by shifting our mindset toward one of success, ownership, and contribution to this country?' While the Cambodian American community has its share of success stories, many of those who achieve personal success leave, creating a void in the very places that need them most. This absence of role models reinforces a cycle where young people struggle to envision a future beyond poverty, low-income jobs, and government assistance. Lam understands this firsthand. He once distanced himself from his Cambodian roots, driven by a desire to escape the struggles he saw growing up. But as he built his career and engaged in mentorship, he began to see the impact of staying connected. 'The day I looked back to my community—the day I mentored just one person—it changed everything for me. Seeing someone from my community thrive because of the support I could offer made me realize I could never just focus on myself again,' he states. Lam has since committed to expanding mentorship efforts, creating opportunities for young Cambodian Americans to connect with successful individuals who can guide them. His vision becomes clearer every day, with one thing in mind: the community must build itself up from within rather than waiting for outside intervention. The Cambodian American community is not the only one that has struggled; many other immigrant communities have faced similar challenges in the past. However, Lam has seen a clear distinction in how different groups have responded with resilience-driven success. 'Look at communities that have faced hardship. They came together, helped each other, built businesses, and created generational wealth. They didn't let their history define them; they used it as fuel,' he says. For Cambodian Americans, the struggle has often been compounded by systemic barriers. Despite being categorized as Asian Americans—a demographic that statistically overperforms in income and education—the reality is completely different for Cambodians. Many remain in low-income neighborhoods, dependent on welfare programs, and caught in cycles of financial stagnation. For some, the fear of losing government assistance discourages them from pursuing better opportunities. If earning an extra few hundred dollars means losing food stamps or subsidized housing, the incentive to push forward weakens. Lam describes a common trap: 'If someone is getting $800 a month in welfare but working a full-time job only brings in $1,200, the immediate thought is, 'Why should I work?' That short-term mindset ignores the long-term growth opportunity that could come from building a career, gaining skills, and increasing income over time.' Then there's the influence of fast money. In many Cambodian American communities, the most visible success stories are not doctors or entrepreneurs but individuals who have made quick money. 'When the guy who made his money through illegal means has a flashy car and expensive jewelry, while the hardworking student can barely afford bus fare, what message does that send to our youth?' asks Lam. For him, the solution is clear: mentorship, community reinvestment, and an unwavering commitment to changing the way Cambodian Americans see themselves. 'We survived unimaginable horrors,' Lam says. 'No food, no water, forced labor, torture. If we apply that same survival instinct to the opportunities in front of us today, we will be unstoppable. Through this, we could all live the true American Dream.' His goal is to connect successful Cambodian Americans with those still finding their way, ensuring that the next generation has tangible role models to look up to. As Cambodian Americans enter their third generation in the U.S., Lam offers a reminder: 'To disregard what it means to be American is to disrespect the country that gave us a future. But to erase our heritage is to dishonor the sacrifices of our ancestors. The only way forward is to embrace both identities and build something even stronger. We are Cambodian Americans, and the time to move beyond our survivor status is now.' About Dignify Living Founded by Cambodian American Jeff Lam, Dignity Living provides a high-quality Level 4 residential setting for developmentally disabled men and women with physical or behavioral challenges. We offer a warm, nurturing environment where individuals feel safe and supported as they develop self-help skills, independent living abilities, behavioral control, and healthy habits. For more information, visit Media Contact ### SOURCE: Dignity Living

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