I grew up in Harlem, New York City, more specifically: El Barrio. El Barrio gave me hot summers and fire hydrants that sprayed water for children to cool off. Little Spanish men and women with coquito carts would yell on the corners, "CoCo, Cherry, Mango!," and down any block there would be Latin and Black families hanging out on their doorstep, drinking beer, playing music, and slamming dominos yelling "CAPICU!"
When I was younger, my father and I were walking around the neighborhood when I noticed an old store was shut down and a "COMING SOON: STARBUCKS" sign was taped to the front of the glass.
That was when he taught me a word that did not hold much meaning to me then that literally means would change my life now:
"I think this has something to do with gentrification."
As a child, I shrugged and said "Oh." I moved on to the next thing I saw as my father and I window-shopped for the rest of the evening.
As I continued to grow up there were very small changes here and there, which I barely noticed. It wasn't until my first time back home, after being away for four months at a little liberal college in Vermont that these changes in my neighborhood hit me so hard.
I walked down 3rd Avenue and I felt like I was a tourist on my own streets. Parks where I spent my childhood were torn down, scaffolding aligned with project buildings.
Billboards were plastered to buildings where my friends used to live, with a tentative drawing of the new condo to be built in its place. "Going out of business" signs were everywhere, "Coming soon"
signs where everywhere, with a promise for a new cafe or diner soon to be installed.
I've never felt so out of place in my own home as I did my first break back from college. I sat down and I researched more on the definition and information on what I was heavily experiencing: Gentrification.
Articles and news information filled my laptop with definitions, reports of waves of rich economic forces on a mission to conquer and "cure" these low-income family, minority neighborhoods. Businesses who are trying to "cure" me, my family and friends. Curing us away by "cleaning up" the ghetto.
All these articles explained what to do with gentrification, why all these corporate buildings are being suddenly erected and why rent is skyrocketing; but none showed how to deal with the depression that comes with it.
How is a young woman suppose to handle the fact that the restaurant where she had her first date was torn down and became yet another coffee shop? The park where she scraped herself when she first learned how to ride a bike is demolished and made into a recreational sitting area.
Three years later and summers are beginning to get quiet. Childrens' cheers, and fire hydrant sprinklers are rare, and late nights are becoming quiet because families are scared to hang out on their stoops due to increase of police patrol.
Gentrification is bringing modern stores as a solution to fix worn-down neighborhoods. Instead of new cafes and new condos, neighborhoods like El Barrio needed new clinics, updated shelters and safer living environments. We are getting pushed out and being forced to simply relocate our problems.
In exchange for updating, once affordable necessities become too expensive for low-income families to afford.
El Barrio is my home, and I am severely saddened to see all these changes happening around me. It's as if someone came in and told me they know what would be better for my life, when they had never set foot in my house before.
Next times a friend comes to you, and talks about changes going on in their home, please understand, it's not just changes they are witnessing. It is everything they had ever known being pulled away from them and all they can do is sit and watch.
