My late father criticized me when I left the quarter where he lived and my late stepmother. “This building probably has graffiti on the walls,” grumbled dad. But rent at a new place was more expensive than the rent I paid. My dad and stepmother could afford to pay a high price for living in one of the most expensive neighborhoods of Chicago. They enjoyed shaking elbows with heels. I was tired of communicating with the elite climate of the area, and I wanted to live in an area with real people. I found an area where people popped out of their windows to wave to their friends. The children giggled when they ran down the street in packs to get to the next adventure. Mom and pop shops were the norm.
When my younger sister found out about my move, she said: “Well, I prefer to live with my heritage!” We grew up in mostly black neighborhoods, and the multi-ethnic area where I moved was unacceptable in her eyes. I ended up living in my dad's house after falling out with my mother, and my sister decided to live with our grandparents on the paternal side. There were several people in the papa district, and I became another rare black face. My grandchildren lived in the lower end of the cap, surrounded by all the negative issues that were often top of the ten news about the clock. However, several years later, after exhausting from what we mockingly called the “ghetto, the mentality of housing projects,” my sister moved to my area.
No area of the city is perfect. Common crimes occurred against the background of racial and cultural clashes due to changes in the composition of the area. Most of the long-term residents did not break and fled. Instead, they welcomed the fact that this region is increasingly resembling the United Nations. Their willingness to stay in place helped keep the area stable and kept most of the social breakdown in fear.
Once the area was declared "hot" by the developers. Changes gradually seeped through. My sister and I walked through a building that was popular for its castle-like architecture. The new owner bought the place and cleared all tenants. The sign announced that condos are now available at some astronomical prices. “Who, in their opinion, can afford to live there?” My sister cut off. This building remained empty for a long time.
But soon the other buildings were turned upside down at an alarming rate. Locals are to blame for scattered gentrification. I attended several meetings and protests. But developers and local politicians had more power on their side. High-class boutiques, trendy bars and restaurants, and other corporate enterprises that clearly represented the new image of the store created in the vicinity.
People began to disappear. I noticed that many families in the church where I studied were gone. Many of them were multi-generational families that were evaluated in the neighborhood. This area was known as one of the main places in the city, where immigrants first landed to make a new life for themselves. Now immigrants lacked presence. The organizations that advocated for this population, as well as for other marginalized groups in the area, were branded by developers, as the slowers are in the way of “progress”. The bulletin boards and blogs on social networks were filled with the circulation of new condominium owners, most of whom openly discovered that "others" would come out of "their" area. When I asked if they honestly thought it would be better if there were only white people, I could not get a real answer. I was excited by the suspicion associated with my motives for continuing to live in a place where my type was no longer something else, not only because of my race, but also because I did not receive a six-figure income.
I still live there, but I wonder how long. The small income that I ever earned began to show stress when gentrification forced the apartment to rent the sky. Being fired from a full-time job before the market crashed at 08, and forced to take less hours and pay less from that time, I put me in a difficult position. The building where my late younger sister lived was now built in a condominium. She made less money than I did, and she would not be able to buy if she was still there. I don’t see people hanging out of the windows to greet their friends more. The children left because they had to leave when their parents could no longer afford to be in the area. Companies mom and pop music expired along with everything else, making the neighborhood unique. We are left with this so-called progress, which closed most of us.
