This morning, at 2:31 a.m., as I exited the train station for the six-block walk back to the house I grew up in, I caught a confrontation between a couple in my peripheral and did something of which I am not proud.
I crossed the street.
And as I did, it escalated, and started to get physical. I embraced the sound-canceling symphonics pulsing through the headphones my loaded uncle once bought for my birthday, and maybe it stopped at pushing. Maybe it didn't. I'm not going to know.
When my parents moved us into this house, I was seven. It takes 13-odd years before you find out things like "at the time, the rest of the family thought we were crazy to move here." Growing up, you just know things: walk back on Foster instead of Newkirk, because that's where you unofficially enter the PJs; don't handle money or anything of potential value on the street at the Junction; if you got friends, you should walk with 'em; if it's under $20, just let it go when they ask; and gunshots sound like trucks backfiring, and you're glad they're at least three blocks away.
Reality check: My childhood never felt unsafe. Or limited. Or threatened. It was not desolate. It was not nearly like anything you're thinking. It simply involved awareness. Cross streets when you see groups bigger than yours; stay in the middle of the subway platform because it's well lit and other people are always around; keep walking unless you recognize the voice attempting to get your attention. Yeah, I got yoked, stuck up for small change and knew life was surrious if you went north of Foster or east of Flatbush, but I knew there was life beyond the neighborhood.
College was always the expectation, be it by family, by teacher or by program. Right schools, right teachers, right time. I'm not stooping to the level of saying "I made it out" whereas other cats didn't. I'm white. And middle class. It ain't like that for me.
Them local kids I was at 193 with, they went to Hudde and they went to Midwood. But they didn't do the programs. Med Sci and Humanities programs draw kids from all over BK and earn Midwood its great rep; the zoned "Collegiate" program is a farce. Check the ethnicity breakdown and graduation rates of each if you ever get the chance.
For me, the fights, the "code," the cred ... none of it was worth it. Because whoever kicks it off usually has less to lose. And when that's the case, you're only putting yourself in danger. Unless you know you're coming out on top, no good is coming of escalating. You step back to a dude who fronts on you first, what happens if he's armed? You start carrying a knife for protection, feel bold next time you get stepped to, what it do when you find out he one-ups you with a gun? Or has boys 'round the way?
This is where you see I ain't have it bad -- I had the option to duck down, roll with the punches and shut out the negative 'til I got tall and athletic enough that I wasn't fucked with for kicks. There are kids more capable than I who don't get that luxury. This knowledge means I will always approve of affirmative action.* Anyone worse off than I who makes it out deserves the extra push.
My brother, he came up with the street mentality. Dude's not a gangbanger or nothin; never was. But he's knuckleheaded sometimes in ways that could have got him in trouble. Got lucky and never caught a bad one. Even now, though he's doing his on the up and up, every so often I find myself trying to convince him to quell the ingrained instincts with how he's handled (or is handling) some ish.
All this to say that I stood to lose more by interfering in the domestic dispute than vibing to my own soundtrack on my way down the block. The dude was clearly agitated/irrational, I ain't a big dude, I was working on three hours sleep, still in my work clothes, carrying my bag and it simply wasn't my place. Can't call the cops to swing by a streetcorner you don't know they're staying at. So I moved on, headphones blaring my conscience numb, six blocks back to the house I grew up in, in a neighborhood I've never been able to leave behind.
*Though weighted more toward class/socio-economic standing than race.
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Arthur Verocai - Na Boca do Sol
5 hours ago
4 saw something, said something:
I'm very much from the suburbs, but living in Philly, not the mean streets of NY, has taught me that I did learn a thing or two about what not to do. I think being in the situation of witnessing a crime or domestic dispute is tricky because not only do you not want to get involved, but what I've found is that the cops might not come anyway. It depends on how much the neighbors make or the color of their skin. None of it makes it ok, or rational, but all that is to say I hear you.
Yeah ... there's so many factors that come into play with police response. My precinct was the one of the Abner Louima torture incident, and the cops pretty much couldn't interfere in anything involving anyone of Caribbean descent for about a year before it settled down. Life is more complicated than most people like to acknowledge.
"Dude's not a gangbanger or nothin; never was"
Just wanted to let u know freshman year of high school i was considerin joinin the crips... so there's that
I'm aware. Point remains valid either way.
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