Chapter 1: Moving
ADSS Presents Genesis
The idea of writing a book is a daunting one. There are countless things to consider, in addition to the inevitable comparisons to my favorite books and stories that, no matter how hard I try, my work will never amount to. I release that expectation from the outset. A path to a good book can look however I want it to. So, I craft my own path and set sail in the vast ocean of creativity and literature.
About ten days ago now, I moved from Girard Avenue in Philly to a quiet apartment in South Philly. I include the word “quiet” because that’s the major difference for me. Noise, in all its forms, was well acquainted with me prior to this place. I used to live a block away from the Pink Line in Chicago. My dishes that sat on the exposed shelves would shudder every fifteen or so minutes, however often that train ran.
On Zoom calls during the pandemic, I would mute my mic to let the noise of the train pass. Firecrackers that started in June and blasted through the Fourth of July, still echo in my ears. To see the streets lined with streamers the day after Independence Day, you would think folks really had something to celebrate. Maybe there’s always something to celebrate when alive. My ears aren’t so in tune with the sound of gunshots to be able to estimate how often I did or did not hear them. That may be disappointing to those that picked up this book hoping for the grim details of inner city life.
Moving to Girard Ave then was child’s play compared to that type of noise. The 15 bus roamed. There was a bus stop right outside my place. People of all ages waited there; younger ones often sat down on the steps of the building at the corner of 16th and Girard and listened to music. Sometimes they sat right on the steps of my building, which was the next one down. Any time I went outside for a walk and noticed someone sitting on the steps I urged them to continue sitting, but most of the time they apologized and got up to move elsewhere.
Firetrucks and their horns shuffled east and west daily. On the next block, west of my apartment, in a seemingly empty building, a fire blazed one day. Each day thereafter I would walk by the burnt remains of the Calcutta House. Online it says it’s a non-profit that helps those living with AIDS find housing. When it shut down or moved locations, I’m not sure.
The noises here are less, and I’m anticipating that to be a good thing. Noise is a great distraction. Unlike screentime, it’s not as talked down on in wider society. Unless you’re listening to something too loud, folks rarely ever tell you, “You listen too much!”
We barely know how to truly listen. At least that’s what I would imagine that people who look at society on a wide scale would say. I’ve noticed that in the quiet, I dream more. My dreams aren’t of any wild, creative playground. Normally they are stressful environments with people from my past I haven’t thought of in decades. They make me question what my subconscious is trying to communicate with me. Or maybe it’s because I haven’t been smoking and drinking for the past 4 weeks. More on that later. Either way, there’s something to embracing life as it is. Whether painful or joyful, stale or exciting, or all that sits in between, facing your life is what allows for agency. Becoming aware of your life is the first step though.
So far, a little more than a week into this move, I haven’t walked around the neighborhood as much as I expected to. It’s my favorite form of exercise. Light enough that my body is moving over a long period of time, enough so that it can still make me tired, and not intense enough where I’d hate doing it often.
South Philly has lots of gems tucked away inside its folds. Back in North Philly, there were hidden locations, but they weren’t for everyone. Without saying it, it’s like the unwritten rules of America’s segregated past still apply. Within that framework it can feel like, though we are a couple decades into the 21st century, to be an adventurous black person moving through the world on your own is to put your own life at risk. I don’t think that’s an exaggeration.
From Fairmount to Brewerytown, to down here in South Philly, to out in Chicago, to all across this country, we still live underneath “the rules”. We notice the folks that don’t follow them. We applaud the folks that navigate them well. It makes me question whether folks actually like the rules. A feeling of, we have enough. Don’t push for more. But, I guess when you’re fighting against invisible hands, it’s hard not to get hit. And folks are tired of dodging punches.
This country, for all its machismo, is scared of change and stepping outside of our collective comfort zone. Despite all our advances, innovations, and progress, we cling to complacency. It’s the fear of what comes when you actually try to grow.
South Philly knows what it is. North Philly is quickly changing. New rules are being written block to block up there. Apartment buildings and the gentrification that comes with it changes the rules. There aren’t as many tall apartment buildings down here in South Philly. I can see the sky. I didn’t realize how much I would like that feature. The community feels tighter. That’s not to say that there isn’t change down here as well, but maybe because the families that live here are more entrenched in their homes, with less opportunities for large swaths of young people to overtake certain areas, it feels like it’s an area more resistant to change. At least where I live. South Philly is large.
Well. I’m not sure where this book will take me. Or you for that matter. But I’m sure it will be a fantastic journey.