Chocolate City Laments

You know, it's not my fault that things are the way they are. I didn't cause this situation, and I'm not exacerbating it. I just live here, same as you. Sure, I'm new here. But nobody told me I wasn't welcome. And for the life of me, I can't figure out why you want me to leave.

I was born right across that river. I'm not from this hood but I know it. Thirty one years doesn't go back all the way but it goes back far enough. I know the history, I know who lived here when things were good and I know who lived here when things were bad. And honestly let's stop kidding ourselves, because we both know that there was a hell of a lot more bad, and the bad wasn't exactly a long time ago.

My family has been here even longer than me. Plenty of them, older ones mostly, can't even imagine why I would choose to live where I do. They remember the riots, the fires, the crack, the hookers and the murder rate. They remember the white flight, the black flight, and the vacuum that ensued. I explain that things are changing, that things are safer, that most of those problems (ok, maybe symptoms) are fading away. They seem to want to believe me, because that doesn't sound so bad.

So why does it sound so bad to you?

I don't own this apartment or this building. I'm not on any community board to clean up the neighborhood. I don't care if you sell single beers or single cigarettes at the corner store and I'm not lobbying you to replace all those forties with bottles of wine. I think the selection of cheese at the Giant on 8th is just fine, thanks, and frankly I couldn't care less about a lack of good coffee shops or restaurants.

Now that you know a little bit more about me, can we maybe take it easy on the dirty looks? I'm just walking home, not to the 'let's turn this place into Georgetown' rally.

I'm not trying to steal Shaw from you. I just live here.