let’s pause here…

We’re standing on 5th Avenue. At the corner of 106th St.,  Museum Mile to be precise. This stretch of the avenue is the densely populated home of 10 world-famous museums. The tree-lined walk along the west side of 5th Ave is none other than Central Park. Today we’re headed to NYU where The Lovelies take part in a youth chorus. We usually ride the bus. It’s a long ride. And though we’re only one avenue over from yesterdays ride, it feels much further away. Today we’re experiencing life from a vastly different point of view. The head-ache and heart-break of yesterday is gone. The visible,emotional distractions we faced on Madison Avenue have all but disappeared.

Remember the ride on Madison Avenue? The bus ride of fear filled passengers. The elderly and handicapped are over represented. Nutrition related illness is staggering in the ‘hood and a disproportionate amount passengers are overweight. Many use some type of walker for assistance. Aisles are crowded because of it. Sneaking on the bus seems to be back in fashion. It’s a clear sign of the times and the real world struggle of this community. They don’t look happy or fulfilled. They look tired.

Passengers on the downtown bus traveling along Fifth Avenue look different.  The elderly and sick aren’t on the bus.  If so, they’re accompanied by a family member or home attendant. They are rarely alone. A passenger may step aboard with a cane but more likely, a yoga mat. Living well seems to afford one, the opportunity to… “live well”. Tourists traveling to and from museums hop on and off. The few people of color who get on the bus are either hospital employees or nannies shuffling young charges from $30,000 a year preschools. An African-American woman on this bus…escorting her own children, stands out. The socioeconomic disparity experienced on these two routes is clear but difficult to explain to a child.

I don’t have to worry about that anymore. Ila knows the difference and she doesn’t enjoy the ride uptown. Something about being in the midst of the most down-trodden version of yourself makes you uncomfortable.  I teach my children to be critical thinkers. Perceptive and aware. Images they once overlooked, now make them pause with reflection. I can literally see the wheels turning. I know it’s partly a universal parenting thing…it’s time to have the hard conversations about everything they see. But it’s something more. It’s witnessing fear.

This is fear you can see and feel. It greets you at the door and pushes you into a seat. It grips your throat and won’t let you speak. This fear is real. And as the Madison Avenue bus rolls onward…up hill and uptown, my thought, I swear, my only thought is this  “Is this thing contagious because although we aren’t of this world…we are very much in it.” We can’t live in fear.

Economic disparities aren’t new. What I’m talking about is being in the middle. Living in the middle of so much change is unsettling. In this brave new world we’re only presented with 2 images and we fit neither. Not fully identifying with either side, we almost feel like foreigners in our own community.

The disparity we’re experiencing now is due, in large part to the effects or after – shocks of gentrification – all in the name of progress.  Unfortunately for Harlem, the historic capital of African-American culture, the process of progress appears to be stomping out a long history of rich black culture and community.  The thread of our existence is slowly being pulled from a cloth we created. 

photo – flickr cc

photo: flickr cc

So here’s my question….Is the gradual upheaval of a community, tied solely to dependence on an unfair economic advantage, ever fair? We’re watching a game and already know the winning team. The playing field was never level. The expected nostalgia for fond memories of home have been replaced by despondency. This community lives in fear. Do they expect to lose?

What happens to a community of people who feel left out. Do you fight? When do you call it quits? Can you live happily somewhere in the middle? Economic planning committees have not factored the heart and soul of a community into the vision of this “new” New York City. There seems to be no plan for a middle and that’s troubling in the worst way.

photo : flickr cc

I don’t argue some of the benefits of gentrification. It started back in the day with a Body a Shop on 125th St. Now there’s. M.A.C. and Duane Reade and Starbucks. It’s nice to have the convenience of major chains like this. But it comes at a cost. Sort of like when you visited your best cousin and she let you play with her doll. Sure you are allowed to play but let’s be clear… the doll belonged to her…and “aren’t you leaving soon anyway?” My friends on the Madison Avenue bus aren’t buying $4.00 chocolate chip cookies at the swanky new bakery just off 116th St. They can’t afford it and its presence keeps them at arm’s length from enjoying the benefits touted by this particular brand of community revival.

photo: flickr cc

I’m not against change.  What I want is inclusion.  I want my face and faces like mine permanently woven into the tapestry of this community. I want to continue to buy shea butter from the street vendor on 125th. I want to see up and coming authors hawking their self-published dreams on folding tables. I want to feel the vibrancy of a thriving community where everyone is invited to the table when it comes to access to the “best” schools.  I want access to everything the gentrification salesman offers, even top-notch bakeries. I want to happily patronize their small businesses. What I don’t want is to be forced out.

The bottom line is a need for meaningful investment and serious dialogue on ownership and security. Without serious conversation and plans for inclusion, the stage is set for a volatile combustible third act. I fully expect outbreaks of outrage. Because you can only push people so far.  Unless we want some sort of Wild West stand-off between the haves and have-nots, things have to change. Something’s got to give.

uptown – one view / gentrification
photo : Flickr cc by Uptownflavor Photo

In the past few months 2 gas stations servicing my neighborhood and a well-loved community grocery store have disappeared. In the coming months you’ll see construction begin on the hi-rises planned to replace them. My daughters figure skating team – Figure Skating in Harlem, had to fight for ice time at Riverbank State park. A park that was gifted to the community as appeasement for creating a water treatment facility more than 20 years ago. The park sits on top of the facility. When affluent boys hockey teams thought it cool to venture into the ‘hood they were given a whopping 85% of the total ice time. I know. Crazy.

I talked with an acquaintance who moved here from the Midwest and her thoughts were simple. “We should be able to live wherever we want,” she said, thoroughly convinced of her entitlement. And she’s right – if you isolate that statement in a bubble. But on the other end, is a hard question. Does your entitlement usurp another’s?

flickr cc – djprybyl

I know it shouldn’t feel personal, but it does. Gentrification is personal. I want my children to know Harlem’s story. I want them to feel the powerful sense of ownership that comes from knowing and living in a positive piece of our history. Because they’re entitled too.

Displacement is personal. It means someone else has to move to make room for you. You’ll buy a former poorly maintained rental and move into it completely refurbished. And I’ll be honest it won’t be easy to visit you, knowing what happened to the former tenant, my friend. Yeah that happens, because if you’re one of the few who manage to hang around, the change will hurt. Maybe it will hurt enough to make you leave. Is that what happens to most of the people in the middle? They leave.

A luxury condo stands majestic and proud.  It looms large over a food pantry directly across the street. Everyone on the long line looks like us. Every Friday, an in your face look at the reality of life for so many. More and more working people need services like this. No one living in the building does. How do you explain the disparity? Is it luck, power, choices, economics? Everybody’s got an opinion and I don’t have an answer but the tension of this weekly happening on 1 city corner is palpable. There’s enough fuel here to set a fire.

The problem with the bus ride is the Madison Avenue passengers seemed to have stopped believing. But I’m on that bus. And I’m a believer. There’s no denying I’m a very real part of this world. Ballet and education changed my life, brought me experiences and opportunities that shape who I’ve become. But financial struggles are real words in my home. It’s an invasive viper that stings and bites. Like many, we juggle from moment to moment.

I live the hope of God but the bus, the bus ride makes me weary. We live in two worlds. Reconciling one with the other is exhausting. Our lives have intersected with box office celebrities. We play soccer with their children. We attend parties and play dates. But in the end is the ride home…up Madison Avenue.

The head ache and heart-break of city life is written all over their faces. The stress of trying to stay is on the bus. The new buildings and stores, revitalization they say. It’s funny but none of the money was available to renovate the playground until the luxury hi-rise appeared. Coincidence? Not likely. The concept of change makes me think – “for the better”…the image is almost always positive, but transposed against this backdrop, it’s an illusion. I’m not fooled. A community is dying.

“Gentrification is about displacement.”

That no one that looks like me is living in these building is what troubles me. That few like me seem to be benefit from the change is what bothers me. Don’t get it twisted, I love being able to buy a latte at an upscale coffee-house but I don’t want a community…the heart of a community to crumble for a few sips of fine french roast. No one would argue the benefits of better schools, hospitals, less crime and improved housing.  I just don’t want to have to leave and watch someone else enjoy the things we’ve rallied and waited for…for years.

photo: flickr cc – jarito
Delano Village is now Savoy Park

This is not the end and there is hope. Abyssinian Development Corp is committed to preventing the displacement of Harlem residents by increasing the availability of quality housing to people of diverse incomes.  Community Boards 10 and 11 have earned reputations as the powerful voice/force of the people in Harlem.  They are mandated by the City Charter of the City of New York and are responsible for participating in long-term community planning and advocacy for tenants. I’ll be at a meeting in February.

As for Ila? Through experience, opportunity and so much grace, she’ll live the bigger picture. No matter where we live and despite any stories to the contrary, she’ll remain, His. Her world is amazing and full of people who love and affirm her. We’ll talk and attend rallies. I’ll share the broken truth of the human heart, how pain veils itself and can’t always be seen. Often, it doesn’t look like we imagine it to. Surely brokenness has her say on the Fifth Avenue bus. Above all, we’ll hold fast to the truth of our security in Christ. His story overrides any we hear on the bus.

P.S. I know this was long.  It was hard too. My intention isn’t to demonize or decrease, for that matter, any of the players in this story. I’ve shared my truth in hope’s of shedding a little light and heart on what, for me, is a real concern.  Do you live in a city threatened by gentrification? What are some of the positive steps you’ve seen your city carry out to soften  the line between the old and new guard?