At the simmering edge

I never know how infuriated to be with articles about West Philly, the feed-me blob that is University City, and gentrification. It doesn't help that lately the phenomenon itself has been making me kind of crazy.

The snap shots newspapers try to do generally don't impress me (That PW article about crusty punks? Blah) and usually fall into "yes this is complicated and very nuanced, but development ain't so bad" line of thinking.

There's an Inky article today by Melissa Dribben about the brew pub and its place on the "gentrification frontier" and how various people feel about the change the brew pub so clearly portends. She manages to get in some decent observations before falling into the usual cliches and managing to do a gallingly sweeping history of West Philly.

I've been working with the idea for awhile that this kind of frontier-pioneer language is racist and classist and rooted in a culture of imperialism. Think of a frontier as something to be tamed, something empty, wild, full of possibility? Like the Oregon Trail? Wrong. There were Native Americans living in western states back then, just like there are low income and people of color living in gentrifying neighborhoods now. They're not part of the landscape like overgrown weeds or precarious abandoned houses -- and a neighborhood is more than houses.

I'm not saying development is bad. I just want to know who it's for. Is it for the people who already live in a neighborhood? Does it address poverty?

This is what I know. Last night I was sitting in the bay window working on my computer, and I looked outside to see four cop cars pulled up around the church, and three or four young Black men with their hands in the air leaning against an SUV. Then more cop cars came and the kids were being frisked pretty bad -- I don't think I understood before last night how frisking is as much about violation and dominance as it is about finding weapons --- and were being questioned ("Where do you live? Where DO YOU LIVE?" "Are you American?")

Then everyone stood around awkwardly, including the six or so cops. Then the kids got on their bikes and rode away. Wrong kids I guess.

If that's neighborhood change, I don't want it.