From Jamaica to Bed-Stuy-- Take the F train to the A train

It will take time to get used to the quietness of the neighborhood. In the back of my head silence represents minds thinking (good and bad) but since I am a pessimist I will go with the bad. I grew in Jamaica, Queens (after being born in L.A.), in what some people would consider a ghetto although no one would probably refer to their hometown as a ghetto. There are some similarities obviously between Bed-Stuy and Jamaica. For starters (the superficial) the amount of rappers that come from the areas one area being more culturally influenced (I think [Bed-Stuy]) and my town, corner of Queens rather not so much. Other similarities include the amount of people of color everywhere, on Fulton, (you would find the same on Jamaica Ave.), non-English languages spoken everyday, overpriced groceries from the local chain supermarket, and the roti shops everywhere. I am sure that if I went back to Jamaica (which I haven’t since last year) I would also find an attempt at gentrification with a local “vegetarian” or somewhat fancy store front with poor and hardly authentic Mexican food (because those are the ones the powers that be have chosen to exploit for now). Clearly there is a difference between a burrito and a wrap…wraps lack sazon.
So yes there are definitely similarities that obviously delve deeper into the community, institutional powers and the perpetuation of stereotypes, and generations of people lacking motivation.
Let’s talk about the perpetuation of stereotypes first. The local bodegas, black on black or Latino on Latino or *insert color* on *insert color*-crime, the disgusting but yummy tasting fast-food franchises where unmotivated young people of color work. Now let me explain what I mean by unmotivated young people, first of all I am not placing the blame on the young people, after all everyone goes through this phase, but what I am trying to convey is a lifestyle and reality of some that is cyclical. Employers and CEOs of these franchises do not take the time to teach young folks about work ethic and skills, instead they literally hand them a set of rules/instructions that they MUST follow and obey. Once a young person learns them then they are taught to regurgitate them and not really understand the tasks, nor contest the larger system that puts them in this situation to begin with. Sure a paycheck is a paycheck and that dollar can go a long way, but knowing that you are playing the game WITH and not FOR the big man is much better. Same thing goes for manager type positions within this industry, rather than motivating employees, managers are taught to play MASTER. Slavery is definitely not over nor will it be anytime soon. And so as we grow up in these microcosms we call home, we realize we have everything we “need” and become complacent and tend not to venture out into the rest of the world. Unless you are the kid that everyone hated because s/he got straight A’s (not to brag but much like myself) on the “standard” institutional tests we had to pay to take. So you are a success! To your mom and family but you are also put on this pedestal where you become the why-can’t-you-be-like-him-boy. A very uncomfortable situation I might say where your neighbors (the kids your age) start resenting you for being successful, and start even calling you words like maricon, mama’s boy etc (all words stripping away your masculine identity…and therefore taking away your worth and power in this male dominated society). No wonder it took me a while to figure out these things I was taught NOT to do. Oh and did I mention I grew up in a single-mother household? “Oh no wonder he is that way” said the ignorant neighbors “he needed a fatherly figure”. So I could “turn” straight and be even more successful. I doubt it; I think I am at a point where I am the one that measures my own success.
I can see this whole plot definitely developing in the Bed-Stuy setting. From my experience thus far I would say it would come from a black (be it African American, Caribbean, or African) young man. This neighborhood reminds me of my Jamaica, when I was growing up. I know I am still a transplant (a fairly new transplant) who has to get used to this and at times step aside and not judge (which is human nature in case you weren’t aware) this reality people (including myself) live in. As an outside-insider I am able to see my own childhood realities in this neighborhood, something I was not able to see when I lived back Jamaica. All I was taught to see was the negative energy, or the hate from them and those (some darker and few lighter than me). Those/Them who still live back in Jamaica, with their parents perhaps (actually most likely) and in the same house I used to play hide-and-go-seek in with 4 kids ranging anywhere from 10 to 1 year of age.
All of this add a little crack epidemic, some police brutality, at least 3 churches on every block (because as statistics show wherever there are churches there is crime), some overpriced groceries, dark lit streets, a couple of KFCs, McDs and check cashing places instead of real banks and we have my Jamaica-childhood reality back in Brooklyn. However I do think the brownstones and an overall sense of pride in self for many in Brooklyn adds a twist and a different beauty to things. Let’s see how it goes…It will all take some time.