The Truth About Being a Black Woman in a Liberal City
Dispatches from a disingenuously “progressive” city that still appears to have a race problem
I had to kneel to tighten my shoelace before beginning my long-distance run from 120th Street and St. Nicholas Avenue toward Central Park North. From the sidewalk, I looked up at yet another new, partially completed high-rise apartment building sitting on top of the local bodega. The store’s yellow awning sheltered a group of men and women who routinely congregated to discuss the latest neighborhood news. Their home had always been Harlem, but new luxury apartments and increased rents were threatening their residency.
While running, I was encouraged by occasional chants from Black men and women who had just woken up on the metal benches they’d used as beds the night before.
“Get it, sista!”
“Go on, Black girl.”
I smiled and nodded, taking care to acknowledge their existence while building up a steady pace.
Gentrification loomed in Harlem’s air. The neighborhood was at war with the city’s new innovation plans, but its history and conglomeration of ethnicities was grounded in a strong and unmovable Black spirit. Harlem’s native residents’ roots were firmly planted. Public…
