By Brenda Verano | LA Blade
In the heart of South Central Los Angeles lies Trinity Recreation Center, most commonly known as Trinity Park, considered what some might refer to as a “hood staple.”
Although there is no denying the park’s history of gang-related incidents and even death, the park, for many, is also a place of profound memories, cherished as one of the only green spaces and gathering place within a community that is often underserved.
For me, the park brings me back to a time when life was easier. It was the place where I made my first friend in the United States, a park that was my large family’s front yard for over three years, and a place that I have passed and walked through for over two decades.
Trinity Park was one of the first places I have memories of. A year after my family immigrated to the U.S., we moved into a three-bedroom house located across the street from the park. The first year in the states had been difficult for my mother, who juggled two jobs.
For me, understanding very little English and not being able to speak it, made it extremely difficult to communicate or connect with other kids and adults at school. My thick accent was always a point of concern and embarrassment.
Trinity Park, which in the early 2000s was even more notorious for crime and shootings, was a special place for my family and me during the almost three years that we lived neighboring it.
As my mother worked long hours, my aunts and uncles would take me to the park at least twice a week, where I would run uncontrollably or ride the swings for as long as possible. The park, in a sense, saw me grow up and helped me build a close sense of community at a time when I felt very alone and isolated.
That, too, is what the park has been to many of the kids and community living in the park’s surroundings. Trinity Park, about 12 minutes from downtown L.A., is located in the part of South Central L.A. known as Historic South Central in L.A.’s City District 9, where the majority of the population is composed of Black and Latino working-class families.
The Trinity Recreation Center opened its doors in 1968. In the last few years, there have been significant upgrades and additions to the park, including the 2016 opening of a synthetic soccer field and a skate park, which officially opened within the park in 2021.
To what to many outsiders might look like an unsafe and unpredictable piece of land, Trinity Park holds dear memories for all those who have passed through or hung out in the park at some point in their lives.
The park was also where I remember making my first true friend in L.A., a friendship that wasn’t sparked because we went to the same class or because our parents knew each other, but because of a simple connection between kids at play. I don’t remember her name, but the photo below was taken the day I met her at Trinity Park.
My mother, on one of her only days off, had taken me to the park. It was the summer of 2004 and we arrived at the park close to sunset. I wish I could recall more than us playing tag and running around the park, but I remember the feeling, the feeling of what it felt like making my first friend, one I had made on my own.
We probably spent three to four hours together that day playing, and at the end of it all, my mother ran across the street to bring her camera. I think she, too, wanted to preserve the memory, the feeling of seeing her daughter connect with another kid after what had been a very tough time in both of our lives.
That was also the park where I taught myself to ride a bike, and that gave me confidence, something that, as a kid, was hard for me to find.
Later in life, although we moved out of the home across the street from the park, my family and I continued living in that same neighborhood, and all throughout my high school journey, I walked through that park every day to get to school. In middle school, the park was also a meetup place for my friends and me after school, where we would hang out and share music playlists.
The park has been a silent but consistent entity from childhood to now—adulthood—always in the background of pieces and times in my life.
This story was produced by American Community Media in collaboration with the Laboratory for Environmental Narrative Strategies (LENS) at UCLA as part of the Greening American Cities initiative supported by the Bezos Earth Fund. Read more stories like this by visiting the Greening Communities homepage.
