This is North Philly (a free write) When your parents move you - TopicsExpress

This is North Philly (a free write) When your parents move you into your overpriced apartment... When you brag to your friends how you dont live in the dorms... When you complain about your sketchy neighbors, And how you now live in the hood, Remember, No one asked you to be here! This is North Philly. A punch line to some. A way to get away from an R.A. Back block, beer pong parties on Friday. Permanent people on perpetual ignore. Background noise of men selling loosies at the Broad Street Line. Unshaven homeless kings begging for dollars outside Crown. But if you took out your ear buds youd realize: Not all people want your coins when they ask you for change. This is our culture. This is the end result of endurance. These streets are hallowed grounds to us. Where friends were transformed into t-shirts at funerals. Where Teddy bears and candles hide plasma stains. All that remains of some names is graffitied R.I.P.s on piss plagued walls. This is Ms. Yvonne perched on her porch. Telling me, Dave, and Ski to stop throwing rocks in the street. This is Miss Younger planning trips to Dormey Park, And giving out free lunches at Panati Playground. This is skating parties at Carmen, Where you met new girls from Cross Town. This is little Derricks unique smile on Thursday, And his eulogy the following week. This is Shareef shot six months before graduation, After Christmas vacation. This is the games at 16th and Susquehanna, Where A.O. and Hot Rod dribbled dreams on the black top for black teens, And alley ooped our stress away through iron halos. The good. The bad. Its all weve had, And you are gentrifying our sacrifices. The blocks you mock are native burial grounds. Massive mausoleums for dilapidated dreams. Soil for unsullied soldier slaves to minimum wage. And you are an occupying army. No one asked you to be here. You have not asked to have your privilege pass stamped by those Who have died on Dauphin and Diamond. Been killed on Cumberland, Hunted on Huntington. You parody our pain while you laugh on Lehigh, Walking to parties, plagiarizing our purpose each time you patronize us with your presence. You have the audacity to wonder why were mad. Wonder why there is rage in our retinas. It is the result of you pretending to be a present to our pupils. It is the result of you pretending to be our savior. Like we havent survived drug wars, And stray bullets. Endured police scandals, School closings. And neglect from the people we pay to protect us. As much as you try to ignore us, We are still here. You can mock our slang, But this is what culture looks like. Against all statistics and odds, How to survive is an education Temple can never provide. Take notes when you walk down the arteries of our motherland. Behave like the visitor you are. This is not Temple Town. This is not Oxford Gardens. This is North Philly. Remember that shit.