Unsafe streets, unhealthful food make it tough for some Chicagoans to get in shape
By John Keilman
Tribune staff reporter
For Bridget Smith, getting fit means cutting calories, burning fat and avoiding wild dogs.
The 52-year-old Chatham bookseller is trying to lose 20 pounds to keep her diabetes in check, but like many who live in poor or minority Chicago neighborhoods, she faces a host of unique challenges.
The fruits and vegetables sold in her local market are so unappealing that she drives to Hyde Park to shop. Going for a bike ride means attaching the wheels kept in her third-floor apartment to the frame stashed downstairs, a precaution she took after thieves snatched her last bicycle.
And she tries to round up a group when she goes for a walk, thinking the vicious dogs that sometimes plague the South Side might be more likely to attack a lone pedestrian. It all adds to the difficulty of losing weight, Smith said.
“There are less options here,” she said. “And less of a support system.”
Dropping pounds is a daunting task for anybody, but it can be especially tough in urban neighborhoods. Experts say the areas often offer copious fast food, little healthy produce, meager or substandard recreational facilities and streets that feel too dangerous to walk or bike–hardly a recipe for weight-loss success.
“This isn’t just a matter of individual will power. There are a lot of other influences out there,” said Dr. Deborah Burnet, a University of Chicago medical professor who has investigated obesity on the South Side.
Research has long demonstrated a link between poverty and weight. Data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention show that poor women are twice as likely to be overweight as their affluent counterparts.
The disparities go down to the neighborhood level. A survey released last year by Sinai Health System found that Chicago’s Norwood Park, a predominantly middle-class area, had a lower percentage of obese adults than poorer neighborhoods such as Humboldt Park and North Lawndale.
“I don’t know if there’s ever been a study that hasn’t found that poor people and people of color always have much higher obesity rates than white people and better-off people,” said Steve Whitman, director of the Sinai Urban Health Institute.
Cultural differences probably account for some of that; Whitman noted that overweight residents of black and Hispanic neighborhoods were more apt to view themselves as being at the correct weight or too skinny. Some experts cite a lack of awareness about how to eat healthfully or get sufficient exercise.
But experts also say other forces are at work, starting with the opportunities for exercise in struggling neighborhoods. Few have private health clubs, and fitness centers run by the YMCA and the Chicago Park District usually charge for entry.
The costs can be relatively low. The price at the Ogden Park fitness center in Englewood, for instance, is $20 for 10 weeks of access. But even that can be too much for the poor, said Angela Odoms-Young, a Northern Illinois University researcher who has studied the neighborhood’s obesity risk factors.
Those who prefer jogging or biking face their own difficulties. Health surveys in Englewood and North and South Lawndale concluded that residents might not want to exercise outside because they perceived their neighborhoods as too dangerous.
Matilda Baker, 44, an accountant who lives in South Shore, knows that feeling. She used to work out at the local YMCA but dropped the family membership to save money when her daughter, a competitive swimmer, began practicing with a suburban club.
She and her husband now walk on the nearby lakefront path and are thinking about buying bicycles. But in her neighborhood, which has an above-average rate of violent crime, safety is always a concern.
“You never know if you take your bikes out if you’ll come back,” she said.
Finding a safe place to exercise isn’t the only obstacle. Getting proper nutrition also can be a trial in many areas.
Walking through food stores in Englewood on a recent afternoon, Odoms-Young found few wholesome products. The area’s lone major grocer, an Aldi on 63rd Street, had a decent selection of fresh fruits and vegetables, though the floor space reserved for its pallets of apples, corn, bananas and tomatoes was a fraction of what you’d find in a suburban supermarket.
Far more numerous were small convenience stores that carried little nutritious food aside from some frozen okra, shriveled potatoes or, in one case, a solitary head of lettuce that shared a dark refrigerator case with packages of hot dogs.
Source: John Keilman, Reprinted from Afro-Netizen
