My people, my people, my people-pe-people

Gregory P. Mango

I moved this weekend. And after just one day in the neighborhood I can speak on how beautiful it is living in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn.

It wasn't until this morning that I realized I had not lived in a neighborhood full of people who look like me since childhood. Although, I am originally from Gary, Indiana, a city that has retained a 90+ per cent Black population throughout my lifetime, in 1980, when I was eight, my mother made the decision to move us across the country to Antioch, California - right smack in a sea of white faces.

So it's been a while since I've lived in a neighborhood full of my people -- and it is a beautiful thing. Everyone, young and old, says "hello" and "good morning". Young sisters compliment me on my choice of earrings. The elders are always sure to ask "How are you?" after seeing you a few times on the block.

These things may seem like minute things to get worked up about, but it is small things like these that are the basis for community stability and pride. Acknowledging someone walking down the street in your neighborhood builds a camaraderie that is key to a growing a healthy, thriving community.

Don't misunderstand. Life in Bed-Stuy is not without problems. I know there are still some things that need work, but I am once more hopeful in the power we have to rise above the stereotypes.