In this piece, the author writes about living in the ‘bad part of town’, a majority black, poor, rundown neighborhood in Cleveland. A place that her friends don’t deem one of those ‘Places Where Decent People Live’. She gets ‘championed’ and lots of pats on her back for her ‘bravery’. Apparently her white family living there is some kind of statement, community service, or a social justice experiment. She must be some kind of naive idealist to put her family in such a dangerous place. You LIVE there?!
I work in a neighborhood like hers and, until recently, lived within two miles of my office. Even though I only work there, I consider it ‘my’ neighborhood. I work for a community social service agency - one that serves some of the most vulnerable members of that community. I see and hear the stories of the homeless and hungry families fed and housed in our programs and of the at-risk kids who get out of the gang culture and go to college with support from mentors they meet thanks to our organization.
Our neighborhood has struggled for generations and suffered through some attempts at ‘urban renewal’ that just made everything worse. Poverty, violence, un- or underemployment and under-education have rolled around this neighborhood since the 1960s, mostly driven by terrible economic conditions.
There are shootings, drugs, and a fairly noticeable homeless presence in this place where I spend my work days. I have been locked down in my office twice in the three years I’ve had my job, both times for armed people in the neighborhood. My car was stolen in broad daylight while I was at work, and one of my close friends (who worked for the neighborhood development organization at the time) was robbed and beaten by a group of teen girls one night. And yet, I and she love this neighborhood, plan personal and work-related events to bring people to see what’s happening here, and work in our professional roles to promote and improve this place.
What I love about it here is the culture that, though suppressed for many years, is still here. You can still hear the stories of when jazz clubs and shops and restaurants and theaters lived the streets. Billy Strayhorn grew up on these streets and went on to play with Duke Ellington. Gene Kelly grew up here, too. You all better know what he did, or else we can’t be friends anymore. There is a community theater named after these two famous native sons, The Kelly Strayhorn Theater.
To summarize, I will use the closing paragraphs of this Rust Wire piece, because I feel the same way about ‘my’ neighborhood: When kids shoot other kids in Hough, I want to hear the same number of talk shows full of support on grief. Can we please view it as a traumatic experience that requires hope, counseling, and years of love to heal, just the same as it would if it happened anywhere else?
Start by valuing the beauty of Hough: its rich history, vibrant Afro-centric culture, children playing outside, living where you work, proximity to cultural assets, political activism, compassionate service to people in need, and most importantly the burning need for solidarity and cross cultural communication. Glimpsing the neighborhood as it really is—filled with diverse people and organizations with a range of gifts and struggles—has indeed been life changing for many of my friends, family, and colleagues.
My neighborhood has found a way to come back, and to bring new people here. There are (delicious!) new restaurants and new shops popping up in the very cheap-to-rent storefronts that have been vacant for so long. It’s becoming very hip to be here, where you are on the cutting edge of Pittsburgh cultural offerings.
Some of these restaurants and businesses acknowledge the neighborhood around them, understand who are the people who walk past their windows every day, and try to make offerings affordable. Not all do that though. There are a lot of tensions between these new folks (read: white, middle class) and those who have been there for generations (read: black, poor). It’s just a fact, and in order for new things and old things and traditions and innovations to live together here, it is a fact that should be acknowledged and addressed. But not a lot of people do that, and now we have boutiques that sell things that no one who lives within walking distance could even imagine buying. Some people think it is merely about development and putting successful businesses in the empty spaces and renting to people who can pay more and make everyone more money.
But, truly, it’s about making a neighborhood where all classes and colors can live and work and play and eat and drink together. We all need to feel safe, and we all need to feel like there are ways that we can participate. And that takes work, together, across class, color and economic levels. Yes, there are bad things that happen, and it can be scary when they do. But, we all (those within and without the neighborhood) can do something to change the conditions. Even if it is only being a positive presence there (being a good neighbor, maintaining your home well, etc.), it is better than just retreating to ‘safer’ areas. It will take effort to make these kinds of neighborhoods better for everyone, and leaving it to someone else or merely talking about how ‘something must be done’ will not solve anything.