Discount City: An Account by Lourdes Figueroa
Prudencia Ayala (pseudonym) on shift at Discount City, 2784 Mission Street, Mission district, from the series My Ancestors Followed Me Here, 2020; inkjet print; courtesy the artist; © Erina Alejo
Lourdes and I were immediately drawn to the assortment of piñatas lining
Note by Erina Alejo:
the ceiling at the entrance to Discount City. When looking for possible sites to photograph, artist and poet Lourdes Figueroa and I wanted to interview essential workers in the Mission district, continuing the work my team and I have been doing in the Excelsior and South of Market. I remembered that my mom used to buy our detergent from Discount City when we lived across the street from it in the late 1990s. Throughout our multiple visits to the store we met Mohammed, the owner; Prudencia Ayala (an alias referencing the late Afro-Salvadoran writer and activist) the cashier; and José, who stocked goods in the back. Prudencia declined an interview, which Lourdes and I respected as an ethnographic refusal. Instead, Lourdes wrote a bilingual account of our time at Discount City. A refusal is a method through which researchers and research participants collectively decide not to make certain information available. It is a form of decolonizing the research process by redirecting academic analysis and its historic harm and implications while centering the participants’ right to self-representation.
Participatory observational account by Lourdes Figueroa, October 22, 2020. Part of My Ancestors Followed Me Here, created for Bay Area Walls, a commission series initiated by the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art in 2020. This observational account was written by Lourdes Figueroa and has been edited for clarity. A downloadable PDF of this transcript is available on SFMOMA. An excerpt is also published in the newspaper format of this project, designed by Jerlyn Jareunpoon Phillips. Photos by Alejo.
Prudencia y Discount City: Una reflexión sobre la tardecita del 22 de octubre de 2020
Prudencia and Discount City: A reflection on the afternoon of October 22, 2020
By Lourdes Figueroa
October 22, 2020
2784 Mission St., Mission District
Me está costando aceptar que octubre ya se acaba. El jueves pasado tuve mi cita con Erina en la tienda Discount City.
Es mediodía. El mundo gira. En la esquina se vende fruta. Prudencia me saluda al entrar a la tienda. Ella feliz en su trabajo. Feliz y ocupada en la caja. Le pregunto cómo está y qué tal todo. Me responde, “Dentro de lo que cabe… estoy bien. Aquí estamos.” Es cierto: aquí estamos, sobreviviendo. Yo, siendo la pensadora que soy, me quedo callada. Entonces, Prudencia para en medio de su trabajo en la caja y, volteando su rostro hacia mí, me pregunta cómo estoy yo. De repente entiendo a Prudencia: entiendo que le importan mucho los clientes que vienen seguido a la tienda. De repente entiendo, con la forma en la que me pregunta cómo estoy, que aquí estamos las dos, sobreviviendo, buscando lo humano en nosotras.
Ese día, Erina toma más fotos de Discount City. Ella camina entre los fondos de la tienda mientras yo me quedo en la entrada con Prudencia, platicando. Sí, el mundo sigue girando. Prudencia me habla sobre inmigración. Según ella, ya se están moviendo las cosas. Me dice que quiere ir a El Salvador a finales de enero, que su esposo lleva más de seis meses esperando su mica, que no se sabe qué está pasando en realidad. Muchos no han recibido noticia sobre su estado. “Estamos en limbo”, dice Prudencia.
Mohammed llega a la caja para ayudarle. De repente entra un ciclo de personas: clientes comprando piñatas, dulces, detergente para lavar la ropa, jabón para lavar las manos, Coca-Cola, y más cositas. Mohammed y Prudencia trabajan en sincronía; tienen su ritmo. Su forma de ser con cada cliente es gentil y verdadera. Se ve que tienen respeto el uno por el otro, ese respeto que solo se gana tras trabajar juntos mucho tiempo. La verdad, parecen una familia trabajando en su negocio, los dos felices y a gusto en la mera obra de su trabajo.
Después de pasar una hora en la tienda, Erina y yo nos despedimos de Mohammed, Prudencia y José, el reponedor. Nos dio mucho gusto ver cómo trabajan en equipo y ver a la gente entrando y saliendo de la tienda. Nos fuimos en la mera hora de su lonche, ya casi a las dos de la tarde, afuera el día hermoso y fresco.
A pesar de nuestra despedida, y aunque mi trabajo con Erina haya terminado, espero regresar a la tienda. No sé, tal vez algún día. Me siento triste, pero estoy agradecida de que los trabajadores de Discount City hayan compartido un poco de ellos mismos conmigo, de que me hayan dado la oportunidad de conocer un poco de este rincón del mundo. Somos seres humanos buscando nuestro reflejo. Nos seguimos buscando durante esta pandemia, a pesar del dolor. Queremos mirarnos y poder sentir esperanza entre nosotras, escucharnos unas a otras en este mundo que gira y gira.
English Translation:
It’s hard to believe we are at the end of October. Last Thursday I met Erina at Discount City.
It’s noon. The world is turning. Fruit is being sold on the corner. Prudencia greets me as I walk into the store. She seems happy in her work. Happy and busy at the cash register. I ask her how she is and how it’s all going. She replies, “All things considered . . . I'm fine. Here we are.” It’s true—here we are, surviving. Being the thinker that I am, I stay silent. Prudencia then stops working for a moment and, turning to face me, asks me how I am doing. Suddenly, I understand Prudencia; I realize how much she cares about her regular customers. Suddenly, the way in which she asks me how I’m doing makes me understand that we are both here, surviving, looking for the humanness within us.
That day Erina takes more photos of Discount City. She walks around the back of the store while I stay at the entrance with Prudencia, chatting. Yes, the world keeps on turning. Prudencia talks about immigration. She says things are starting to move along. She says she wants to go to El Salvador at the end of January, that her husband has been waiting for his Green Card for more than six months, that no one knows what is actually happening. Many people haven’t received any news about their status. “We are in limbo,” says Prudencia.
Mohammed comes to help Prudencia at the cash register. Suddenly, a flurry of people enters the store—customers buying piñatas, sweets, laundry detergent, hand soap, Coca-Cola, and other small things. Mohammed and Prudencia work in tandem; they have their own rhythm. Their way of treating each customer is gentle and honest. They clearly have respect for each another—the kind of respect that is only earned after working together for a long time. They look like a family working at their business, both of them happy and comfortable in their work.
After spending an hour in the store, Erina and I say goodbye to Mohammed, Prudencia, and José, the store’s stockman. It was nice to see them working together and to see the people going into and out of the store. We leave right before their lunch hour, at about two in the afternoon. Outside, the day is beautiful and cool.
Even though we said our goodbyes and my work with Erina has come to an end, I hope to return to the store. I don't know, maybe one day. I feel sad, but I’m also grateful to the Discount City staff for sharing a little of themselves with me, for giving me the opportunity to get to know this corner of the world a little. We are human beings looking for our reflection. We are still trying to find ourselves during this pandemic, despite the pain. We want to look at each other and be able to feel hopeful together, to listen to each other in this world that turns and turns.
