bushwick day

Bushwick is often left out when Black people shout out Brooklyn neighborhoods. They know Bed-Stuy, Flatbush, Crown Heights, and Canarsie, but Bushwick is overlooked. The other week my mom and I were at a festival hosted at the Brooklyn Navy Yard by the Hip-Hop Closet. There was a sea of Black people and Black-owned food-trucks that colored the Brooklyn Navy Yard’s back lot. The MC called everyone together and got to shouting out neighborhoods. Is Brooklyn in the house?! He was going one by one and you could hear people cheer as their neighborhood was called. My mom turned to me, laughingly smiled and said “He’s not gonna say Bushwick” and turned back towards the stage. To our surprise, he did say Bushwick and we screamed. Probably the only two in the house, but repping nonetheless lol.

The only time Bushwick makes the cut, at least online, is when people are making fun of the hipster turned normie white transplants who are known for partying in warehouse raves (we are an industrial area) and tripping off of LSD. I guess people have this idea that there’s no one points to hand here. Now that the transplants have invaded, I guess people assume that there is no history here and because of that, they assume there is no present. 

Bushwick is often forgotten, but mighty in pride and rich in history. Today was the annual Bushwick Day event, where Bushwick natives gather in Irving Park on Halsey and Wilson to vibe out in the park. Today was the first official Bushwick Day Event I’ve been to, and it was my mom’s as well. I’m not sure when this event started, but I feel like it’s relatively adolescent in age. For some reason, I expected this to be like ten oldheads in the park with some food and folding chairs, and I expected to spend my day chilling on a park bench listening to my mother’s conversations. My naivety was exposed when we pulled up to the park and saw…well…niggas. The park was packed and this was an official event. There were vendors, food stations, and the natives had arranged themselves accordingly across the park in the way that Bushwick is split. The Lightside and the Darkside. My family is from the Darkside (I’m assuming the cooler side, Idk no shade) on Moffat St. While this was way more than the ten oldheads I was familiar with which caused me to be a bit overstimulated, I was really intrigued by the fact that all these Black people were from Bushwick. 

I always knew that Bushwick was rich in Black history, in my history, but it was different to see all that history take up the entirety of Irving park. A park that I’ve passed more times than I could count, but have never stepped into because it wasn’t always a good park. A park whose trees in the skyline across the street from the red awning on the chinese restaurant let me know that it was almost time for me to get off the 26 on my way back home from school. That park was filled with all the people, the families, and the stories my mom would tell me about her childhood. Bushwick, often forgotten, is rich in Black history. 

I went away to Pennsylvania for school at Swarthmore College, a small prestigious liberal arts school 30 minutes outside of Philadelphia. While away at school, I was introduced to and spent a lot of time in a smaller city called Chester. Chester is often not found on maps, and is sometimes overshadowed by the bigger city of Philadelphia. Though Chester is small, it is mighty and natives always boast about Chester Pride, C Pride. As I’ve gotten older I’ve learned to admire the beauty in being small, but mighty. My institution is small in size, but mighty in education and name recognition to those among the elite (lucky me). Chester is small in size, but mighty in fight as showcased to me by the natives who work at the environmental justice organization I worked with. And, while Bushwick’s Black population grows smaller by the day, Bushwick natives are proud of our neighborhood. At the park, people were dressed head to toe in Bushwick swag. Every two seconds my family was running to someone or someone was running to my family because they recognized one another from elementary school or the block, and even if they didn’t remember each other (most times they did) they were just so excited to claim someone. To say, “I know you”. Or, “you know Roland?” “Yeah, that’s my uncle!” “That’s yo Uncle? Wowwwww”. For some reason, I had to go away in order to see all that I admire I already have at home within myself and in Bushwick.

My family thinks I was shy and sheltered? Help! God forbid a girl is quiet. But, when you're quiet, you do a lot of observing. And while I was admittedly a shy and quiet kid, I saw and heard more than they might think. I have different memories across every inch of this neighborhood--with my mom, with my cousins, with my camp, or by myself. I definitely could not go to one of these and recognize a ton of people my age because I didn’t go to elementary and middle school in my area, but also because there weren’t a ton of people my age there. The handful of people that I do remember because of daycare, hell even my cousins who grew up within blocks of me, don’t live here anymore. My aunt says my generation doesn’t know anybody because we weren’t outside like they were in the 80s and 90s. While true I ask, who set that system up? Kids and technology is a different conversation, but what I want to focus on is the fact that my friends are gone. If a family can’t afford to stay in a neighborhood they leave. Farther and farther until it’s no longer a matter of living in a different neighborhood, but now a matter of living in a different state. Even the younger millennials who grew up in a time before technology invaded and had childhood friends can’t point their friends out at an event like this because their friends are across state lines. 

This event was beautiful. A lot of people traveled in from places like Colorado, Virginia, Staten Island (lol) just to come to the event for the first time. At the same time, all I could think about is what this will look like in the future. The majority of people here were above the age of 50. And y’all know I stay on the lookout for fine shyt, there was none. Who’s going to be at this in five years? What about ten? As more and more forgettable modern highrises and boujee coffee shops erect across the hood, who will remain in the years to come. Will there be enough of us to carry on the Black history in Bushwick or…will we slowly be erased? 

My godsister’s cousin, who also grew up in Bushwick, has kids and she says she wished she could raise them here. But like many families, they left for reasons outside of their control. I deserve to build a life in the city and in the neighborhood that raised me. I deserve the right to choose if I stay or if I go. Today convinced me even more that I want to build a life in the neighborhood that raised me. Right now, I’m growing increasingly fearful that I, like many others, won’t have that choice.

Neighborhoods change like people. While Bushwick looks different each day, the heart stays the same, wherever it may go…