Leaving Mantua

Most of the people I know living in Philadelphia have dealt with some kind of tension, either in their own neighborhoods, or in others to which they've visited.

Jumped in West Kensington
Pistol-whipped in Olney
Heckled in Francisville
Beaten in Center City
Punched in Fishtown
Cat-called in Point Breeze
Robbed on the Broad Street Line

For the most part, we all have something in common: we're kind of poor but not really poor. So we can afford to live on the edge -- that which lies between a more contentious area and one that is more, say, white.

Mantua, Philadelphia (via photographyclubcolumbia)

My edge is Brandywine Street. Technically in Mantua, but five steps away from Powelton Village where college kids have crept into the 150-year-old neighborhood over the last decade or so.

I feel safe on my block. It's usually quiet, except when the dude a few houses down blares his car stereo (old and new R&B that I don't really mind). No one has ever made me feel uneasy. Some neighbors have even expressed their enjoyment -- not annoyance -- of weekly band practices held in our living room.

But I wouldn't say that I feel completely comfortable in Mantua.

1. I avoid Haverford Avenue on my ride home, even though it technically represents a quicker route from the Spring Garden bridge. I take Hamilton Avenue instead because it's less likely that people are on the sidewalks or out in the street. Even more unlikely that people on the street are going to fuck with someone on a bike. Hamilton is lined with big, old houses with iron fences, English ivy, Christmas lights, and porches. Once you get past 34th Street, Haverford consists mainly of empty lots, boarded windows, and a sketchy pizza place. When my family was visiting a couple years ago, I told them to use Hamilton even if the GPS suggested to use Haverford. I wasn't necessarily worried about them being fucked with, but I figured they would have a better impression of my neighborhood if they got to my house via Hamilton. Anyway, they decided to go against my directions to see what the fuss was about and the first thing my 14-year-old brother said when he came through the door was "I think we just saw a drug deal."

2. I never made a decent effort to know my neighbors. Sure, I recognize most of them, but there's never more than a hello and a wave when we cross paths. During block parties, I hung out on the stoop for a hot minute, but never crossed the street to drink a beer with the dudes that grill all the time. Interestingly, I never got to know the other white college kids on the block either. Never really saw them outside. A kind of collective agoraphobia. There is a grass lot on our street, about the size of two rowhouses. Perfect for an urban garden -- sun, space, and proximity. I thought about this project, and the best/fairest way to go about it. Should I start it on my own, or get the support of other families on the block? Should we share a communal garden, or have individual plots? Should I push for organic and sustainable methods of gardening that I've only read about, or let everyone do their own thing? The final question I asked myself was, Should I even be the one to do this? I decided I shouldn't be. After all, I was one of the newest tenants on the block. It'd be pretty white of me to move in, not talk to anyone, stick a shovel in the ground, and start making "recommendations." So the lot remains empty.

3. I didn't plan to be here long. I moved to Philadelphia for school. I moved to Mantua because it was convenient, cheap, and relatively safe. Always wanted to live off of Baltimore Ave. (see previous post). Lately, I've been all too eager to leave. I never felt like a Mantua resident to begin with. No investment in this house or this street. Gave up on living in the city.

So in the next two weeks, I'm leaving this neighborhood. I'll be living in Manayunk for a few weeks (stay tuned!) and then moving back to the childhood comfort of Greensburg.

I realize that I am in a privileged position, to come and go as I please. On one hand, I feel like an intruder living in a neighborhood where I don't have any roots; on the other, I feel sheltered and naive living where I feel too comfortable. And as a traveler, I'm an outsider anywhere.

I don't have any conclusions. But I do have some advice: visit as much of Philly as you can (or substitute Philly with wherever you live). While I wasn't completely comfortable here, I feel confident in saying I've lived here because I know where things are, and I know what places look like.

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