Williamsburg,
Brooklyn by Heather Hoskeer
About six years ago an anarchist with a can of black spray paint
started a graffiti campaign to halt the inevitable changes that
we all saw coming in our Williamsburg, Brooklyn neighborhood.
Granted, his crude message “Yuppie Go Home!” wasn’t
really winning hearts and minds in the war on change. When his
original message seemed to have no effect whatsoever, he threw
caution to the wind and moved to the more offensive “Die
Yuppie Scum!” This message was soon followed by a manifesto,
typed up and pasted on every wall along the well worn path to
the Bedford Ave. L station and no doubt, the intention was to
get each one of us to wonder if we, in fact, were his target audience.
It worked. At least on me. At the time I did have a job and an
apartment, and even though I was barely paying my rent and sustaining
myself on three dollar rice and beans from the corner bodega I
found myself guiltily thinking, even as I fished for change under
the cushions of the couch, “damn, I’m a yuppie”.
While the “Yuppie Go Home” guy was, ultimately unsuccessful
in halting the massive changes that would rapidly transform our
neighborhood, he was successful in making each and every one of
us feel just a little bit of shame for not being as concerned
about it as he was. Maybe that was his real goal.
Fast forward to present day Williamsburg, a neighborhood that
was tagged with Basquiat’s trademark SAMO (same old, same
old), and you will find a Williamsburg where nothing ever stays
the same for too long. It has changed and is still changing faster
than you can say “luxury high-rise condo”. If you
blink you’ll miss it. You can’t throw a nickel without
hitting some cool, new spot that you could swear wasn’t
there the night before. Williamsburg is growing up and out. Literally.
It has taken over parts of Bushwick, Greenpoint and even sections
of Ridgewood, that is, if you believe the real estate agents.
Those who came to Williamsburg in search of cheaper rents have
moved on further into Brooklyn or high-tailed it up to East Harlem.
If I had more energy and a little more sense I might do the same,
but the power of memory attaches me to Williamsburg, my Williamsburg,
for better or for worse.
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