KQED’s Silicon Valley Unseen is a series of photo essays, original reporting and underreported histories that survey the tech capital’s overlooked communities and subcultures from a local perspective.
There’s nothing like summertime in my hometown of East Palo Alto (better known as EPA). The California weather is ideal, the whips are out and everyone lingers around longer than usual. It’s when the city feels most alive, and when I can best capture its warm vibrancy with my camera.
Over the past few weeks, I hopped on my skateboard and mobbed through the hood, making it my duty to touch each section, snapping shots with my Fuji GFX50S II.
I criss-crossed the new catwalk stretching above Hwy. 101 — a new structure that continues to reshape the city’s infrastructure. I swung by Flooda, a neighborhood where I grew up, to tap in with family. I visited the G — another of EPA’s many sections, home to my high school — where the tough roads make it hard to enjoy a smooth ride. It’s the kind of place where you’re forced to slow down, observe, and interact with people.
Father and daughter, Leon Golden and Lisa Golden, pose in front of their home in The G. Leon has lived in EPA for more than six decades. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)
For anyone from East Palo Alto, it’s essential to emphasize the “E” in EPA. Palo Alto and East Palo Alto are two different cities in two different counties, with two different demographics, and may as well be located on two different planets.
One five-mile stretch of road, University Avenue, directly connects Meta’s headquarters to Stanford’s campus. It shoots right through the heart of EPA, passing by an Amazon office complex, Silicon Valley’s only IKEA, and a ritzy Hilton Four Seasons hotel. But that’s not the EPA I remember. You’d never know that there used to be hella corner stores, family-owned shops, and a downtown community hub. Much of that local identity was replaced to cater to Silicon Valley’s corporate image.
After graduating high school, I attended Bowdoin College, a small liberal arts school in Maine. Whenever I’d tell my peers where I was from, they’d often fixate on the perception of tech companies founded in garages, or of Stanford and James Franco. That’s not the case for us. EPA breeds our own kind of history and innovation. If Palo Alto represents the Bay Area as Silicon Valley in its most suburbanized affluence, then East Palo Alto is an extension of the Yay Area’s rugged shortcomings, operating in the shadows of tech’s unreachable power. That contradiction is what makes EPA special, and arms us with an unbreakable resilience.
An abuelita tenderly waters her garden in The Mid. I learned how to speak Spanish by growing up around hella Latino families in EPA. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)
One of East Palo Alto’s native sons, Davante Adams — an All-Pro NFL wide receiver for the Las Vegas Raiders — said it best on an episode of Pivot Podcast: “In Lion King, you got Pride Rock and then you got the elephant graveyard right there on top of each other, but it’s a whole different world. I’m from the elephant graveyard. I’m proud of where I’m from. I’m not proud of stuff that contributes to the reason why it’s not the same, but it is what it is and I stand on where I’m from.”
That’s how I feel when I tell people I’m from East Palo Alto. Some people may never understand the roguish ways of Little Nairobi, but those who are tapped in know wassup. I feel proud to document the faces, familiar corners and current state of these neighborhoods.
So for those who don’t know what EPA looks like, here’s our beautiful “elephant graveyard,” down by the Bay’s shoreline.
This is where it all began for me. The intersection where I grew up in Flooda. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)The sight of a father and his children playing on their grandma’s porch. I’ve always appreciated driving past this house. It has a strong sense of family connection from the outside, so to be able to capture a flash of that in this moment meant a lot to me. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)Irma Foster poses in front of her home while doing yard work. I met her while skating through The Ville. I stopped to take the photo, and she seemed like she had a lot more work to do. I was handed brooms and rakes to get the job done. I even got to mow part of her lawn. She was surprised to learn that it was my first time ever mowing a lawn. She asked me how that was possible. I told her I never had a lawn to mow. We talked about the changes she’s witnessed in EPA over the years. While dumping leaves and trimmings into the compost bin, we were both reminded of the value of community. Despite all the madness, moments like this, when two strangers from two different generations can come together and accomplish a goal, epitomize the heart and soul of our community. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)On my way to Flooda, I stopped at Pal Market. A man named Ray gave me $2 to buy him a 211. He cracked it open in front of East Palo Alto’s abandoned post office at the intersection of University Ave. and Bay Road. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)Lil E from the G poses at the intersection of Wisteria and Azalia with his motorbike. That day, I was in The Gardens, known as The G, where every street is named after a plant. I flagged bruh down while he was mobbing on Wisteria. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)Shortly after photographing Lil E, I photographed Big E in his Ford Falcon sitting on Zeniths with mustard and mayonnaise on the wheels. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)La Paletera is an ice cream lady who makes her rounds through EPA. I see her every time I’m outside. There used to be more variety of vendors, including elote men and churro sellers, but I haven’t seen them in some time. Things have changed over the years around here. La Paletera is still ten toes down, though. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)G-Town Market store is where everybody be at. Folks are outside chopping it up, and people in front of the store get honked at by passersby who know each other from childhood. I saw this beautiful 1970 Mustang and had to tap in with the owner. He introduced himself as Coach Eric Stuart and said I looked familiar. “Did you used to have dreads? Who’s your people? Are you the Twins’ nephew?” I confirmed it all with a grin, as excitement lit up his face. “Man, Kash is your mom, right?! I went to school with her and I know your uncles! We go way back!” This is a common scenario for me. Coming from a small city where everyone in the 2.2 square miles melting pot is connected, it’s common to embrace one another. “If I don’t know you, I know someone in your family” is a common saying in EPA. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)A group of Tongan kids pose for a photo at Jack Farrell Park. I offered $20 dollars to whoever could score against me on the basketball court. I left with $20 still in the bank. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)Two boys ride their bikes through The Mid, a neighborhood called that because it’s right in the middle of it all. I always looked forward to summers in EPA as a kid because my older brother would come into town from Modesto and we would stay with our pops. My dad had a three-wheeler that my brother and I would mob on while our pops was at work. I have vivid memories of my brother slappin’ “U-C-IT” by Champ Bailey on his Metro Sidekick on our way to Three Brothers tacos. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)My mom grew up playing tag in the no man’s land between Pride Rock (Palo Alto) and the Elephant Graveyard (EPA). It’s officially known as the San Francisquito Creek, but in the hood we just call it “the creek.” This line represents the division between the haves and the have nots. The Bay Area and the Yay Area. Steve Jobs and Dem Hoodstarz. I trekked down into the creek and stood in the literal wealth gap between two different realities in Silicon Valley. I found old appliances, moldy clothes, and remnants of childhood. A man set up camp in his tent on the East Side of the creek bank. This stripped down bike felt like a symbol of what — and who — gets left behind around here. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)While riding through The Mid on my skateboard, I always pass by a lot of dogs and families. This dog looked like it was ready to chase me. But I simply like this photo because it’s another example of our city’s intergenerational fabrics. (Darius Riley/Hourvoyses)Pedro stands outside of his home in The Mid with an obituary of his old friend, El Hajj Benjamin Abdul Wajeed Ahmad, a former pastor and activist in East Palo Alto. Pedro spoke about the need for solidarity between Blacks, Hispanics, and Polynesians to build community and create a better EPA. Our conversation was entirely in Spanish. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)There have been times when I’ve told people I’m from East Palo Alto and they argue that it “isn’t really in the Bay.” Well, here are some photos of the Bay Lands, where the Bay Trail extends to San Francisco and where the Dumbarton Bridge connects EPA to Alameda County across the water. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)I dedicate this all in honor of my good friend and brotha from Flooda, D’Andre “Doc” Stamper, who embodied EPA’s spirit with his love for the community. We miss you, Stamp. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)
Darius Riley is a photographer from East Palo Alto, CA. He is focused on empowering Bay Area communities through visual storytelling. More of his work can be viewed here.
Darius Riley poses with a horse on the outskirts of EPA. (Darius Riley/HOUR VOYSES)
