You Can't Tell Me Nuthin', Running The Street
"Running the street" is what my family calls it when single men are living the single life. It's also what they call it when men are up to no good.
The area where I hung out, we called it "The Way". "The Way" came from "around the way". So, instead of "The Hood", we had "The Way". The group I hung out with was called "The Fellahs". That came about because we were walking up a friend's steps when his mother said, "Here come the fellahs!"
One day around The Way, I joined a group of people boarding up an abandoned house that was being used for doing drugs, having sex, and general hanging out when people are up to no good. A patrol cop drove by, stopped, parked and watched us as we boarded up the house.
The "inhabitants" later took down the boards and went back in. Some time later, an old woman who lived across the street from that house, was raped by people in that house. The woman hurt no one, was nice to every one, and seemed to have no enemies around The Way.
As word spread, a teenage girl came forward and said she had been raped in that house before.
People around The Way had complained about that house before, but the police and the city did nothing about it until after the rapes. They tore down the house.
A guy we used to hang out with became a policeman. He took his job very seriously. One day in court, he testified against a street level drug dealer. He left the court to be confronted by two fellow officers who proceeded to tell him to stop his activities or else. In the corner was a higher level drug dealer. To him, the confrontation said it all. He pulled his kids out of school that same day. He got his wife from her job. He put them on an airplane. He gave power of attorney to his brother to sell the house. He then resigned.
We didn't like what was happening to The Way. So, The Fellahs found out about job openings and we approached the dealers that we knew. They were saying there were no jobs out there. We gave them leads. One took the leads and found a job. The others continued the hustle.
They bragged a lot and claimed they were hard core. Then the Jamaicans came and told them that they would sell the dope provided by the Jamaicans, or they would be killed.
They sold the Jamaican dope. So much for being hard.
One of The Fellahs confronted them about it and said that he hoped they all got killed because they destroyed the neighborhood.
It's often asked why people in drug troubled neighborhoods don't call the cops. I can tell you that people do call the cops. In the instances I mentioned, the cops did nothing. Here's one from Baltimore that happened about a year ago. It's about The Dawson Family. And here is what a politician decided to "do" about it.
I was after the "affections" of a foine young woman who happened to live in the Murphy Projects. Early one morning, I was awakened by the slamming of the big metal doors of the building. I looked out of the window and saw women taking their kids to the baby sitters or women on their way to work. Interesting... According to Reagan, they were lazy.
One day I'm watching the local evening news and there is a live shot from a helicopter of a line wrapped around the block. It was people standing in line for new job openings at a major hotel that was scheduled to be opening soon. But I thought they were lazy.
Now I'm living in the D.C. suburbs, but I help tutor kids in D.C. We tutor them in a high school cafeteria. They arrive in "cheese buses." Not just on foot. Not just by car. They arrive in full sized yellow school BUSES. Not one small bus but multiple full size school buses.
The tutors were women from 100 Black Women, men from Concerned Black men, people from the D.C. Urban League, people from the D.C. NAACP, and others.
In my neighborhood, there was a housing slump. Some people couldn't sell their homes so they rented them. One neighbor rented the home to people who received section 8 vouchers. The husband beat the snot out of the wife on a regular basis, threw trash out on the front, and had police visit the house on a number of occasions. They got thrown out of the home. They were white.
Another family rented another house. They also received section 8 vouchers. They sat outside on the summer evenings, being very loud and rude. The home owners association put up signs saying sitting outside was not allowed. I lived in a town home community where the town homes shared a common entrance walkway. The chairs tended to be in the common entrance walkway. They got thrown out of the home. The signs came down. They were Black.
People tried to get the home owners association to restrict home owners from accepting section 8 vouchers. The language used by proponents was racially tinged.
Posted by at January 17, 2005 03:17 PM
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