a lot of the conversations i have with people i love are centered around breaking cycles. i live in washington heights - a neighborhood in northern manhattan. we're a straight shot up from where big money is being dealt and if washington heights were a school, it'd be title one. our neighborhood is often referred to as "little DR" as the community is predominately Dominican. it'd be hard for you to live here if you couldn't understand spanish or have an aversion to loud bachata being boomed through hazes of marijuana.
this is my home. this is where i love. my boyfriend was born and raised in this neighborhood. he sees things i don't see and hears things i don't hear. this is where he loves.
last night we were waiting on the bus and there was a funeral for a gang member one block down on the same street. Dominican funerals are so opposite of any of the funerals i've ever been to. everyone wears a lanyard with a photo of the deceased and there is dancing, big group pictures being taken, loud crying, equally loud rejoicing... the mood shifted a little when a row of cop cars came speeding down the block and a crowd gathered around the corner from the funeral home.
my boyfriend said, "i wish tim was here because he would be nosey with me..." (tim is my dad). i pretended to be my dad and we walked a little closer to see what was happening. some of the gang members were yelling at the cops - asking them why they raced to them to make sure nothing would happen instead of in the bronx trying to arrest the rival gang member who was responsible for the death of their friend. one of the gang members yelled, "F*** THE POLICE..." and other obscenities. his girlfriend calmed him down in the special way a ghetto girl calms down her angry boyfriend.
the situation made us both sad. all i could see were cycles being perpetuated. i watched the cops - the bored looks in their eyes - the kind that said, "you're all the same." i watched the gang members and their girlfriends looking at them with hatred in their eyes - the kind that said, "you're all the same." and i looked at the kids around and felt achy over their realities. born and raised with biases.
my boyfriend said, "how do we break those cycles though? how?" i said that if the gang member would have chosen not to yell at the cops, that would have been a big step. because the younger versions of his future self watching would have seen peace instead of outrage.
and being a white girl dating a Domincan guy has definitely opened my eyes more. i see that there are unfair stereotypes on all sides. i've had white cops mouth, "are you ok?" while walking with my boyfriend and our friends. i know that my boyfriend has a court date in september because there are cops perpetuating cycles. i know that late last night angel and i were trying to get a cab in harlem and someone told me, "with your complexion, you shouldn't have a hard time getting a cab now."
psalm 34:14 says, "search for peace, and work to maintain it." i don't believe there are any exclusions. and i think we're all supposed to be in different places, encouraging peace to prevail. i think we're all called to be gardeners working hard to maintain that peace. i think that i'll be the white girl in the heights that stays. i think i'll be standing on the dividing line reminding my left and my right that cycles are broken when we stop assuming and start listening.
this is my home. this is where i love. my boyfriend was born and raised in this neighborhood. he sees things i don't see and hears things i don't hear. this is where he loves.
last night we were waiting on the bus and there was a funeral for a gang member one block down on the same street. Dominican funerals are so opposite of any of the funerals i've ever been to. everyone wears a lanyard with a photo of the deceased and there is dancing, big group pictures being taken, loud crying, equally loud rejoicing... the mood shifted a little when a row of cop cars came speeding down the block and a crowd gathered around the corner from the funeral home.
my boyfriend said, "i wish tim was here because he would be nosey with me..." (tim is my dad). i pretended to be my dad and we walked a little closer to see what was happening. some of the gang members were yelling at the cops - asking them why they raced to them to make sure nothing would happen instead of in the bronx trying to arrest the rival gang member who was responsible for the death of their friend. one of the gang members yelled, "F*** THE POLICE..." and other obscenities. his girlfriend calmed him down in the special way a ghetto girl calms down her angry boyfriend.
the situation made us both sad. all i could see were cycles being perpetuated. i watched the cops - the bored looks in their eyes - the kind that said, "you're all the same." i watched the gang members and their girlfriends looking at them with hatred in their eyes - the kind that said, "you're all the same." and i looked at the kids around and felt achy over their realities. born and raised with biases.
my boyfriend said, "how do we break those cycles though? how?" i said that if the gang member would have chosen not to yell at the cops, that would have been a big step. because the younger versions of his future self watching would have seen peace instead of outrage.
and being a white girl dating a Domincan guy has definitely opened my eyes more. i see that there are unfair stereotypes on all sides. i've had white cops mouth, "are you ok?" while walking with my boyfriend and our friends. i know that my boyfriend has a court date in september because there are cops perpetuating cycles. i know that late last night angel and i were trying to get a cab in harlem and someone told me, "with your complexion, you shouldn't have a hard time getting a cab now."
psalm 34:14 says, "search for peace, and work to maintain it." i don't believe there are any exclusions. and i think we're all supposed to be in different places, encouraging peace to prevail. i think we're all called to be gardeners working hard to maintain that peace. i think that i'll be the white girl in the heights that stays. i think i'll be standing on the dividing line reminding my left and my right that cycles are broken when we stop assuming and start listening.
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