the invisible wall
It’s no secret, gentrification has permeated in unsuspecting cities and districts all over the country. Out in West Oakland, Emeryville (the “city” within the city) is spreading further and further out, giving way for striking juxtapositions of crackhouses and luxury condominiums all in the same street. Flower pots, grass, Whole Foods, and brand new slabs of concrete on the sidewalks serve as the signal that the populace will slowly become more deprived of melanin. Other words, white people are coming.
Here in New York City, the drastic transformations within the city occur in a far more compacted, more obvious spaces. There are millions of universes that exist between a span of 2-5 city blocks, universes that transform before your eyes before you can realize where the hell you’ve ended up. On the block uptown where I’m staying, there are outdoor cafes galore, mimosas toasted every morning, and Columbia University professors exchanging lecture points over a pleasant gourmet pizza lunch. Walk one single literal block up towards 124th, and suddenly, the air changes. Forget gourmet. Now you get liquor store, chicken shack, and cold rusted brick buildings that look so tired they seem to be heaving through the cracks in the wall. It’s what real estate brokers describe to me as the more “colorful” neighborhood. Go past 123rd, and you’ve crossed the invisible wall.
Welcome to Harlem, yall.
Yet, it’s still beautiful. It’s a different kind of beautiful though. Not the kind that’s always pleasant. Tough love is what it is. But then again, this whole city is like that. As my girl Kristia put it, New York isn’t the kind of city that likes hugs. More like a head nod, you know? Just tip your head up to respect the game, nothing too touchy.
But as someone who just moved here, I’m soaking in the city like a fresh sponge. In Cali, we drive around so much, that a lot of places between point A and point B go ignored. Here, walking everywhere allows you to experience all the different points in between, and all these within-city alternate universes trigger all your senses. It’s a trip to recognize that an Ivy league school with Ivy League bank accounts rests right on the crest of Harlem, just a few short blocks from the place where I witnessed a man struck down from a gunshot wound during a cab ride home the other night. Opposite worlds live within a few feet from each other, and everyone just goes about their daily living like they don’t notice.
I guess now I realize what Sammy was trying to tell me about kids tagging their names along on city property. Inner city kids taking back a kind of ownership of their city, letting everyone know they were there, that they exist.
The writing’s on the wall. Know it’s there.
Recognizing,
Young Roobz
