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June 4, 2014

Guest Post : The Gentrification of Brooklyn From the Perspective of a Brooklynite

A couple of years ago I heard of a project that would displace a couple thousand people to make way for a grandiose stadium.

People were being kicked out of their homes, in order to make way for high rise apartments and a place that people could play basketball.

But our basketball team sucks and certainly didn’t need another stadium because they had Madison square garden.

The Atlantic yards project a Project that would build high rises around the surrounding Atlantic-Pacific Area also gave birth to The Barclay’s center, home of the Brooklyn Nets…. Our first major sports team since the Dodgers abandoned us and high tailed it over to LA in 1957. I bet this made us think for a second….Yes, Brooklyn as we thought is the best

And for now it still is, but while Brooklyn has become more famous over the years, we have lost something in exchange for this fame.

…a fighting chance…

When you think Brooklyn you think urban. Loud Italian people, fuhgeddaboudit, cheesecake,hip hop, block parties, biggie smalls, west Indian day parades, culture. That’s why people from different walks of life come HERE.

It used to be Manhattan too, until the city under Giuliani in the mid 90’s decided they want to “clean up”, and develop . Now it’s overly priced, vapid, and devoid of anything but douchey nightclubs and places to shop.

Now it’s Brooklyn’s turn to develop which I’m just thinking is code for trail of tearsing anyone who lives near or below the poverty line out of that said developing neighborhood (…you know….minus the small pox blankets).

but if you weren’t aware, almost everyone lives near or below the poverty line in NYC there is no middle class it’s ridiculous. Thats because the prices for everything is inflated, the taxes are horrific, and if you moved outside of New york city even somewhere upstate, you’d be in the middle class believe it or not.

I look at it like this, I’ve lived in my neighborhood all my life…which is a sweet ass 24 years. People have been getting shot in the park across the street, shot in general, mugged, selling drugs for almost TWO AND A HALF DECADES and you know what I’ve never seen? Police presence.

That’s how you know when gentrification is happening, when police are around even when they aren’t called, even when no crimes are being committed. But they’re not here for you…they’re here to make sure Jaquan doesn’t bother Kelly on her late night dog walk…don’t get it twisted.

You see, when the Barclays center first arrived I said to myself…This is dope. I get to ride the bus 15 minutes/train 5 minutes and see Beyonce in concert.

Then the MTV awards came to Brooklyn and I said to myself… we’re all fucked.

The VMA’s solidified once and for all that my neighborhood would be under going some drastic changes over the next few years… And then a phenomenon happened shortly after.

The eviction notices started to go out

Buildings began compiling list of people on rent control who were living possibly under another person’s lease. Threatening them with eviction if they:
Didn’t just simply move out or instead allow the complex to raise their rent to the prices that people not on rent control are paying.

This wasn’t a problem for these same people for at times 20+ years lived under another persons lease, but now that the property value in the area was steadily increasing…people started to see green.
Buildings began compiling lists of people on rent control in general and started making up bogus reasons to push them out.

Months of unpaid rent for example when the tenants had most definitely paid.

But the catch…in some cases these matters could be easily settled if the tenant allowed building owners to pay them a certain amount to simply just MOVE OUT.

Ladies and gentlemen…This is now Brooklyn this is now my home and corporate greed is spreading through this place like a fucking cancer and it makes me sick and livid and hungry…Yes, hungry.

Strange men coming to people’s door steps offering them money to buy out their homes that they’ve owned for decades and probably raised their families in. All for the purpose of turning the house, and jacking the price up so high that no one who lives in the neighborhood currently will be able to afford to live in it.

The Others….

People who have only lived here for like 3 years max… non native to Brooklyn white people specifically, CONSTANTLY speak of how the neighborhood can use development.

no need to be crass but… who the hell asked you? You just got here! You probably moved out of Manhattan because it was too expensive! Shut the hell up stay in your lane or move back to Manhattan where it’s developed enough for you.

We don’t want gigantic unattractive buildings that don’t even match with anything else on the block, fucking up OUR skyline… We have a style in this borough…Fall in or fall the fuck back.

Oh and It’s FLATBUSH not PROSPECT LEFFERTS GARDENS

I don’t care what your realtor told you.

There’s a group of people I like to call “the others”and it’s not simply WHITE PEOPLE …. It’s White People who just moved here from somewhere else, most likely they weren’t even born in the tri-state area….some people call them hipsters… now most of them are, but some of them aren’t.

But the thing about them Is that most of them (not all) get priced out of their respective areas that they lived in prior to living here. Prime example: Williamsburg, where all the others flocked to initially until it was developed so much it became as vapid and cliche as Manhattan. High rises started to go up and people started to move out because they couldn’t afford to even shit there anymore, yet alone live…

So they Moved to Bushwick…Same thing Happened and it became apart of “East Williamsburg”

Then they Moved to BedStuy and its Happening there too

Then Crown Heights….The High Rises are beginning to go up

and Now Flatbush (not Prospect-Lefferts gardens), where there is a 22 story high-rise being constructed next to either a Keyfood/Associated? at the moment and 0% of it is affordable housing….so if you live in the neighborhood theres a good chance you cant even move in there.

Crown Heights/Flatbush is Home. Why? Because as a first generation Trinidadian-American its enshrouded in MY culture.

Caribbean culture. You walk down the streets of Flatbush/Crown Heights and you get all the foods, clothes, and music that you were raised on. You hear the accents that make you laugh and make your heart swell with pride…for your culture.

I don’t mind if the others move here… I think that’s cool.

Add a splash more diversity to our already diverse neighborhood…

I DO mind hearing little white girls telling their friends….”oh I live in Crown Heights, its a sketchy neighborhood”…. bitch shut up, you wouldn’t know sketch if it crawled up on you in broad daylight and beat you with a baseball bat.

You want sketch? Move to Brownsville.

Want sketch? Move to the Bronx.

But you wanted Sketch and Shine… Something to brag to your friends about. But somewhere that you felt confident that you wouldn’t get shot or mugged while jogging a few miles each day.

So you moved here… so fuck you, but I digress.
I REALLY MIND when they don’t respect the culture that’s been here longer than they have…

I don’t respect feeling as if their trying to push us out.

I don’t respect them acting as if we’re the stain…we’re the problem…Like Spike Lee said… WE BEEN HERE.

and he wasn’t ranting….he was telling the truth, the others are just too fucking self centered and sensitive to see that.

And this rate…where are we supposed to go, if we’re not here?

…It’s scary.

.

May 28, 2014

comments 8

When a Chameleon Moves Away From its Backdrop its Color Fades

Most of my younger years were spent with my three older brothers, 2 older male cousins and my younger female cousin. The 7 of us were inseparable. Before my younger cousin was old enough to play with us, I would cry when I did not get the action figure I wanted or lost a game of Street Fighter. Naturally, I thought that she would grow up to want the same things that I wanted. However, it was the complete opposite.

(I’m the one with the basketball)

My cousin was born with different interests from the rest of us. She did, however, copy some of my mannerisms and clothing. She never received hand-me-downs, but if I bought a yellow raincoat she also wanted a yellow raincoat. When I would play with her, she did what I did. I understand that when someone is younger it is natural that they imitate those they look up to, but when I was younger, it irritated me to the core. Of course my cousin is now an adult with her own unique way of thinking and being which I find very beautiful. However, when I was younger I did not like being copied and I definitely do not like being copied now.

When coming from a child, imitation is the highest form of flattery. Children often vocalize their admiration and give credit to those who help them in their growth. As children are trying to figure out who they are, it is only natural that they take traits from those they are close to. Even now we all have traits from our parents, siblings and teachers who we were around during the developmental stages of our lives. It is adults who forget the common laws of interaction and respect. Some adults are so afraid to analyze their actions that they do not even realize that they are copying others.

( Don’t be afraid to look)

In today’s world where we have access to so much information, I find it sad that many of us have chosen to become carbon copies of others rather than find our own voices. It is one thing to be inspired by someone, but it takes on an entirely different meaning when you claim someone else’s way of being as your own. We all have stories behind our who we are. It is insulting for someone else to take the outcome that is you without having earned it through your experiences.

Through recent experiences I have learned to not let imitation bother me, because in the end it says more about the person imitating than it does about you. Yes, it does say good things about you, but I like to think of myself as humble and I believe that the best version of yourself is you. It hurts me when others imitate me for this very reason. I would like to inspire, not to be copied.

Also, our bodies and minds are very different. If you live your life adapting to those around you, how will you ever learn to listen to yourself? If you truly do believe that you are unique it is important to start living up to that belief. The start to a better world is to have people who know how to listen to themselves. The universe is balanced. Confusion and unhappiness occur when we refuse to listen to ourselves.

While imitation itself can be a form of flattery, it is often a disservice to the imitator, as well as a lack of respect for the experiences that made the imitated person who they are. When a chameleon moves away from its backdrop, its color fades. Eventually all we will have left is ourselves. Learn to love that before you are left staring in the mirror and not recognizing the person looking back.

May 22, 2014

comments 9

For You Are Married to the Earth and Stars

For whom it may concern,

Forge ahead until you can no longer bleed.

Fall in love until you can no longer dream.

Feed your eyes and ears with all the knowledge your fertile mind will allow in this lifetime.

For you are married to the earth and stars my friend, and they in turn are providing the festivities which embrace your wanting person every feverish moment and haunted hour.

Fill your tummy with sugars and sweets and swallow fine wines imported from other countries without forgetting to maintain your good health for as long as

Forever will last.

( This week I was unable to write my Wednesday post for many personal reasons. This poem is my personal mantra. I read it when I was an emotional angry teenager and it has changed my life)

May 14, 2014

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Player One: The Serial Dater

Player One: The Serial Dater.

May 14, 2014

comments 9

Player One: The Serial Dater

On summer days I used to play tag with the boys and on summer nights I would play video games with my three older brothers. One day I noticed that something was off. On a hot summer day during a game of tag I realized that I was being chased.

I know it sounds normal seeing as I was playing tag after all, but I wasn’t it! So why was everyone chasing me? Me, who wore the baggiest pants? Flat-chested, ponytail-wearing, NOT-IT me? It was the first time that being a girl stopped me from doing something I enjoy. I had all these boys chasing me to ask me out when all I wanted was to play tag. That was the last day I ever played tag. That day is ingrained in my memory as the day I was forced to make a decision; I either change the way I am or I find a way around it. I decided to do a little bit of both.

The next summer I secluded myself in my home. When asked by my teachers what I did that summer, all I had was a list of books I read and zombie games I completed. I was not allowed to go outside with the older guys (brothers included), because my mother believed playing with them was too dangerous and boys my age thought play time was a fitting time to ask a girl out.

(That never happened, my parents never took us on vacations. Lucky Me?!)

My only opportunity to be around people that I could be myself with was to date them. From an early age I became a serial dater. Like most teenagers, I didn’t truly know why I did the things I did. All I knew was what I wanted and how badly I wanted it. And much like any other teenager, all I wanted was to have friends.

( Name of the game: Hot concrete )

My first kiss was with a boy who is now one of my best friends. Our hand holding was just a way to mask our strong friendship. I just wanted to be around the guys. Having a boyfriend in the group was a magical shield that kept others from looking at me as uncharted territory.

(“Please, don’t! Your homeboy is my boyfriend”)

In my younger teenage years I found myself being hated by some of the guy friends due to a lack of maturity and understanding that a girl can simply “hang” with the boys. However, years later I would see them again and in our eyes it was all sibling rivalry and even if I would grow apart from the ex that introduced me, his friends and I would keep in touch.

Although I have worked extremely hard to find a balance, I am still not able to have as many guy friends as I would like. Being in a relationship and having friends of the opposite sex is not so easy. My bond with males is a brotherly bond. It is a strong part of who I am. It is the only thing I knew and when in doubt it is the only thing I know.

The reason I write is to understand my actions and values on a deeper level. The reason I write is to understand. Although I am no longer player one: The serial dater, I would like to keep my teammates around (Those who I have met along the way, not those who I’ve dated, as some relationships will never be the same). I would like to connect with those alongside whom I have played the game of life with…I want my brothers back.