Won't You Be My Neighbor

No matter who you are, what you believe your identity to be, or where you live, you are someone's neighbor and part of a larger community.  

This weekend, I decided I would venture out and see what was going on around me.  First I stopped by a dive bar which was purported to have live music.  Unfortunately the band had cancelled.  So I began a trek to see if I could find what I was looking for, not knowing what that was.  It was only about 8 pm so most people in Park Slope were eating and the bars were empty. Somewhat dejected, I decided to stop by my local bar to have a beer before calling it a night.

Shortly after ordering my beer, I began talking to some "locals."  What I found was what I have come to like about Brooklyn so much, they all had different stories.  J is a 25 year old originally from San Diego who, after 9/11, volunteered for the National Guard, and trained in Missouri to be deployed to Iraq.  He was medically discharged due to a shoulder injury.  He decided to come out east.  Working part-time jobs J is floating through life at the moment and mentioned to me he would be trying out Seattle next summer.  It's a small world after all.  We discussed his trip and his plans and J represents many other twenty somethings who are just trying to make sense of it all.  

Then there was K who grew up in the Bronx.  As an athlete he found a way to stay in school but like so many was influenced by the prospect of getting rich young through the only employment around.  This came in the form of selling drugs.  After a short, but lucrative career, K was caught and served a brief stint in jail due to his age.  One of the most fascinating statements he made was that prison wasn't that bad because he knew most of the inmates there.  On probation, he is now enrolled in community college, without financial aid due to his criminal status, and has had to sacrifice the finer things in life to stay out of trouble, which included moving out of the Bronx.  There are still those around him who could draw him back in and as he said, "it could be just a matter of time." Frustratingly, this is a reality.  And before you think it doesn't happen where you live, remember that here it is just more public.  

Then there is H.  H is 42, never married, and has a 15 year old daughter.  H is a neighborhood veteran and has seen a lot of changes and recalls the 80's, stating, "then, if you heard gun shots, duck."  Talking with them, we concluded things are safer in a way now.  Then it was largely turf wars between organized gangs fighting over drug sales.  Now it is neighborhood teens, without larger affiliation, fighting over lesser evils, girls, sidekick cells, and minor possession rings.  

We mostly talked about sports but every once in awhile the conversation hit home to the real world just outside the door.  This neighborhood is diverse.  But there are stories that many don't know, and some who don't care to find out even though THEY moved HERE, that speak to core issues that affect any community.  When I worked in Seattle's poorest neighborhood schools, students were fully aware of the criminal opportunities that waited for them.  There were always family members and friends who were involved in numerous activities.  Two of my students were raised by their mother alone, who was a prostitute, and left them to fend for themselves a few days a week. They also lived in a reputed "drug house."  At least once a week, I had to walk them home wondering if someone would be there to greet them.   But short of writing a $30,000 check, what can be done?  

This is the reality.  Where are the opportunities?  When there are none, or there appear to be none, or the ones available seem to be reserved for a select few, hard economic choices have to be made.  And when a choice yields a reward, there is little incentive to listen to principles of justice and fairness in an unjust system.  While I hope to contribute to the greater good in a more meaningful capacity some day, these neighborhood bar discussions are as good as experiential learning as you can get.  The four of us sitting there in a bar, owned and operated by a local Brooklyn woman with her own story, all sharing our different stories, each related. It's a crummy world at times and we owe it to each other to learn about our neighbor's lives. But you have to get out there.  I was a decision away from staying in, watching a movie, and isolating myself from the community around me.  Maybe it's risky.  Maybe you can't trust anyone.  But I am now attending a school where the motto is "law in the service of human needs" and came from a school that "challenges students to shape an equitable legal system for the common good through service of social justice."  I think you have to accept the challenge to get to know what those human needs are before you can promote social justice.  I accept.