It's been a while, but I thought I had to send a quick update in a not so timely fashion. The #8 train has moved! My old neighborhood is behind me and I'm now living in Harlem. Yes, that Harlem. Right smack dab in the middle of it. If you don't know anything about my new neighborhood, look up places like Sylvia's or the Red Rooster (some of the best restaurants in the city) or the Shrine (one of the best music places in the city) or...
I think it's funny when I tell people that I moved to Central Harlem and everybody says something like "I hear it's getting better" or "I hear it's being more gentrified" or "I hear there are a lot more white people in Harlem". Yeah, it's getting better. People up here care more than people I've seen elsewhere. It's becoming more gentrified because it's New York City and the rents are going up, which means the income level of people moving into Harlem is a bit higher. But there's a lot of rent control here (heck, my apartment is rent-controlled for 2 years), it evaporates when someone leaves and then is locked in with the new tenant. More white people? Haha. Visit me.
My last blog talked about my first weekend here, and it was really a profound experience. I really do feel like this is my neighborhood. People look at me here. People ask me how I'm doing here. People see that I'm a white guy, but they also know I live here. Like I said a couple months ago, I belong here. Are there people who don't think I should be here? Sure. But you know what? In my old neighborhood, people didn't think I belonged there either. But they showed it by avoiding me. I'm an eye contact person. If I look you in the eye, and you don't do the same, I don't belong. Yeah, that's my insecurity, but it is what it is. People here, for the most part, look you in the eye. That's one of the reasons I love living here.
I love living here because my perspective changes. All of the racial unrest in this country is personified in my neighborhood. People here have lived it for years. Police v. Public. This is Harlem. There were legitimate riots here in the 1960s. People my age remember them. And it's so much fun talking with and interacting with people my age here. Because our perspectives on life and what is right and wrong is, believe it or not, pretty much identical. And that's what makes this my neighborhood.
The #8 train has found a home for a while. It's going to be good to stay at this station and provide some reflections from a very different point of view. The White Guy in Harlem.
