Leaving

Small town life poses a difficult question for the teens who live there.

Driving into the small town of Ajo, Arizona, I smell the Piñon and Creosote seeping off of the brush’s leaves, wetted from this weekend’s monsoon, and through the car window. Going into town on the I85, a long and desolate path that stretches from the suburbs of Phoenix and Buckeye, past the federal prison, down through an endless sea of sagebrush cradled by copper stained mesas and mountains, down to the border with Mexico and Sonoyta. On the left, a few residential streets that lie in the shadow of a great man-made mountain, a marbled cream color, carved long ago from the insides of the mountain turned copper mine that funded the town’s existence. On the right, the Am Pm, a few shops provide insurance or travel maps of Mexico, Olsens (the only grocery store in town), and the big A, the town’s singular initial chalked into the mountain hanging above, topped off with a cross. The streets are empty, quiet, and in their homes teens have dinner or sit in their room listening to music and wait, to leave out the door at night, to be picked up by their friends, to drive aimlessly or sit at the park late at night, and wait. Waiting for the next part, the next chapter, when some of them will go their separate ways, in fear of being left waiting. 

The abandoned railroad stretches the length of the town

An animal skull rests on a doorstep

Life is undoubtedly different here. Today the plaza is empty, as per usual, unless hosting the occasional Pima County Fair, car show or Christmas Eve, during which swarms of the town’s parents envelop the streets that lie between the occasional lamp post. They, children in tow, gather around what used to be the old high school –now turned apartments– waiting for a white bearded man dressed in red to appear in the bell tower, accompanied by fireworks. The man makes his way down to the parade floats awaiting him, and the sea of smiling children and adults begin to follow in procession. It is on these occasions in which some indescribable spirit is drawn out from the corners of the dilapidated houses or the bowling alley that has, for the past several years, lay empty. 

Once a year, Santa appears in the old High School’s belltower

An abandoned classic car lies in the desert nearby an overturned metalwork sculpture of a horse

“Growing up here since I was little, I’ve seen so many things that we’ve had that have been sold or just not there anymore… It just got taken away,” says local high school student Ariana Rendon. For many across the country, day to day life differs from what citizens of larger cities or suburbs may be accustomed to, and in a town whose population in 2020 was a mere 2,691, this is felt especially hard. Despite the lack of high paying jobs in the area, limited sources of food allow for the lone grocery store to charge elevated prices for lesser quality products. Health care may also be hard to come by, as the local clinic, which is limited in its capacity, is the only source of care within a two hour radius for a community whose average age is 61. Yet, while these towns whose economy runs solely based on their ability for others to pass through them or their usage as a retirement and or artist commune make up much of the country, the day to day life of the individuals that live here are often brushed over. 

A classic car sits outside a house waiting to be renovated

An abandoned house lies on the side of the road

“I play softball right after school…and then after that I go home, eat dinner and then maybe like go out with friends or something…most of our friends drive so we just go downtown driving and listening to music or I live down the street from a park so go and hangout at the park I guess,” Rendon said. While moments like these are not unlike those shared by teens in cities such as LA or Santa Monica, Ajo’s generally older population and seemingly shrinking resources poses an interesting question for its high schoolers, what comes next? “I feel like there are more opportunities, definitely for like people who live in bigger cities…especially coming from us cause we don’t have that much” Rendon said, with fellow high schooler Rachel adding “especially with the schools.”

“People that have moved away definitely have a better chance of what they really want to do or knowing what they want to do because of the things they’re surrounded by. I feel like our community is kinda filled with older people because they’re trying to get away from the city,” Rendon said. Both students agreed that, in a not so distant time, they will aim to leave behind the park, the dollar tree, the white stone churches and the graveyard adorned with flowers and closed behind a chain link fence in search of something greater, something still relatively unknown.

Ajo’s politics are largely conservative despite a sizable liberal community

Ajo is home to multiple churches, this one nearby the town plaza

Inequity relating to both race and class are felt here in ways that are not unlike in cities. While conversations around food deserts and lacking investment are often limited to specific neighborhoods within cities, many rural residents feel the same or similar struggles deeply. This is especially true when considering Native American reservations, which face vastly unequal access to food, healthcare, community investment and infrastructure. Ajo is only around 12 miles from the Tohono O’odham reservation. Despite their isolation, the problems which affect areas in Los Angeles and other large cities are far more broad and encompassing than many may believe, affecting all areas and population sizes whether it be 9 million or 2,000. The inability to recognize these commonalities threatens to portray a monolithic view of rural America.

A pickup truck is parked on a residential street

A razor scooter lays nearby a sidewalk

In reality, rural America is as complex as anywhere else. Teens in this region face similar challenges to many across the country, no matter the population density as well as the lingering question of whether or not to join the seemingly continuous surge of those searching for greater opportunities and a chance at a seemingly better life at the cost of leaving home. When asked about one thing that she truly loved about her hometown Rendon replied: “Community…cause we all get together and do like celebrations at the plaza and stuff and it’s really good just to be able to have people around but in smaller groups.”

Nearby Organ Pipe National Park, Ajo is home to many Saguaro Cacti

I stand at the checkout line holding a comically large bag of mission tortilla chips along with some idaho potatoes among other things, the clerk hands me an International Grocers Association branded bag, reading “Hometown Proud” a puffy red heart forming the “o.” As I leave the parking lot, a sign reads “Thank you for Shopping” in three languages, Spanish, O’odham and English. Coming over the hill, the sky opens to shower rain from a singular cloud onto the vast valley below.