Throwback Thursday: The Caucasian's Guide to Black Neighborhoods

Or ... how to NOT be a gentrifier.

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This post originally appeared on NegusWhoRead on Oct. 3, 2016.

As society enters the utopia promised to us in old negro spirituals, the Bill of Rights and Martin Luther King Jr.’s dreams, we are beginning to witness this country morph into a true homogenous melting pot. Don’t get me wrong — we are only a few years away from a truly post-racial America (I’d give it 2,000 more years to be sure). But neighborhoods across the country are evolving into multicultural mixtures where white people play Spades, Black people listen to country music and everybody hates Donald Trump.

Whether you call it gentrification, migration or "revitalization,” white settlers are returning to their colonizing roots by “discovering” Black neighborhoods. Harlem is no longer an all-Black mecca, and there are scores of white people who are beginning to receive mail at addresses on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevards across this nation.

With this integration comes an array of situations that our Caucasian comrades might not be prepared for. Never fear. As NegusWhoRead has previously guided you through Black cookouts, church services, Thanksgiving dinners and parties, we now offer you our latest installment in our Caucasian Guide series:

The Caucasian Guide to Black Neighborhoods.

You’re on Probation

Once you decide to move into a Black neighborhood, the most important rule to remember is that living in a Black neighborhood is like getting a job at a Fortune 500 company — you will be on a probationary period.

For a period of either 90 days or until someone inside the neighborhood Illuminati (we will get to this later) gives you the stamp of approval, you are a visitor in this section of town. Even if you have a one-year lease. Even if you have a mortgage.

The side-eye that you receive is because Black people are very territorial of their neighborhoods, and we are predisposed to the same prejudices that white people have when they see Black people. However, our race-based skepticism actually makes us nicer. Because of what we see on TV and movies, we assume all white people are one bad breakup or firing away from becoming a serial killer. I know that’s very prejudiced, but just like how your kin clutch their purses when we pass them in parking lots of Target, Black people will be nice to you for the first three months because they want to be the one person you spare when you go on your shooting spree.

Once we get to know you, you can enjoy the full rights and privileges of everyone else in the neighborhood. We might even invite you to our church. The only restriction you will have is that you still won’t be able to use the n-word. Never, ever, ever make the mistake of believing you’re so inside the loop that you can say that. Not even the version with the “a” at the end. I know you are dying to say it, so when James introduces you to his homeboy as “my nigga Brett,” just lower your head, smile, stick out your hand and offer a handshake.

Meeting the Neighbors

When you move in, the first order of business should be getting to know your neighbors. There is a right way to do this, and a white way. The right way to do this is organic. You have to holla at them when you go to the mailbox or as you see them on the street. The wrong way to do this is the white way.

Do not show up on anyone’s doorstep with brownies or a homemade pie to introduce yourself. We don’t know you like that. Plus, we don’t know how clean your kitchen is. We assume that you kiss your dog in the mouth and clean your countertops with organic, environmentally friendly soap (which is nastier than feeding your dog with people spoons, in our opinion) because that’s what we see on TV. How else would we know?

We are suspicious of all white people showing up at our houses for no reason. What do you want? I don’t recall ordering an apple pie, so why are you on my porch offering me food? Even if your neighbor is a middle-class Black doctor, we assume all uninvited white people are undercover police investigating us for the crime of being Black. Am I under arrest? Is there a listening device hidden in the pie?

Are you the feds, Brett?

All Black Neighborhoods Are Commercial Districts

Because of the disparities in employment, hiring and the cost of regulation, every Black neighborhood has an underground economy that rivals La Cosa Nostra. I know you believe in the steadfast rules of law governed by zoning boards and city councils, but Black neighborhoods are different. According to the Negro Constitution, every street populated by more than 50% Black people must, by law, have a Black woman who does hair in her kitchen. Why would anyone drive downtown when Sherita can do a quick weave while watching her stories? In fact, every barber and beautician in Black America started out in his or her kitchen. It’s like the minor leagues for baseball.

There’s also a woman named Pam who runs a complete restaurant out of her kitchen two houses down from you. However, she doesn’t sell “entrees” or “meals.” She sells “plates.” Chicken plates. Sandwich plates. Just plates. They all come with either fries, rice and gravy, or macaroni and cheese. Other businesses in your neighborhood include the guy who fixes cars in his backyard, the neighborhood carpenter/handyman/plumber/electrician, and of course, the weed man.

That’s Al. You’ll get to know him.

Respect the Culture

This is the No. 1 rule for under-washclothed people moving into Black neighborhoods. You can live there, but don’t gentrify. I know you want to bring in a Panera bread and a Whole Foods, but you better take your white people shit somewhere else. Al’s Deli has been making sandwiches in this neighborhood for 37 years. His sandwich shop’s health rating averages might be a C-, and he sells marijuana sacks in the back, but we don’t need a Subway here. Once people who eat unseasoned meat start showing up, a Starbucks is soon to follow — and that’s when the trouble starts. Starbucks coming into a Black neighborhood is like when the residents of Troy looked on their Ring camera and saw Odysseus standing on their porch talmbout: “I brought a gift for you!” You people are so gullible. Who the fuck opens the door for a white man and a giant horse?

Not Black people.

We know what your plan is — to build high-rise condominiums and market our block as the hot new hipster hangout. That’s why someone robs you guys from time to time. There really isn’t much crime here; we have just designated a few local guys to rough up random white strangers every now and then as a preemptive measure from overrunning our community with thrift shops, cupcake stores and ironic caucasian college students looking for adventure. We know what happens when you show up. That’s why we always look a gift horse in the mouth.

If only the Powhatans had thought of that.

Know the Governing Structure

Every Black neighborhood has a list of people who are royalty in their little fiefdom. It is your responsibility to get to know these people and honor them with the respect they deserve:

• Miss Mary: Miss Mary has lived on this block since 1943. Her husband passed about 30 years ago, and she has raised four generations of children in the same house, all who became teachers, lawyers and businessmen. Her house is always spotless and smells like cinnamon and lavender. In her old age, Miss Mary doesn’t get out much, except for her daily walk around the neighborhood. When you see her, regardless of what the traffic laws say, you slow down and wave. Also, every time you go to the grocery store, it is your responsibility to ask her if she needs anything. All she usually wants is a gallon of milk. Or some eggs. Or a 20-sack from Al’s.

• Big Jack: Big Jack will fuck you up. Big Jack isn’t that big; he’s 62 years old and his name is probably something like Herman, but according to Miss Mary, “Big Jack used to be a bad motherfucker back in his day.” But now that he retired from working “down at the plant,” he runs the block. Every neighborhood is run by someone — usually a quiet, no-nonsense guy who works at the local steel mill and wears a wife-beater most of the time. He keeps everything in place and makes sure there are no shenanigans. The young guys don’t mess with him and he gets respect from everyone. Get to know him.

• The young people: Make sure you stay cool with them. It’s easy to do. When they are selling tins of stale popcorn or that bullshit World’s Finest Chocolate as a high school fundraiser (which should be sued for it’s lying-ass name) buy five. Pay them to wash your car and cut your hedges. If you have an Xbox, let them play. If you are cool with the kids in the neighborhood, you are automatically cool with their parents, which makes you cool with everyone. This can actually cut your probationary period in half.

• The neighborhood gossip: She is the Fox News of the neighborhood. Like Fox News, she never has all the facts, but she is entertaining as hell. She knows who’s fucking who, what Pam is cooking today and any bit of news you need to know. This is probably Sherita, and her sources come from her customers whose press & curls she does every Friday. She always needs a ride to the store, usually to get beer and some Remy #9 ( Not the liquor, that’s a type of hair, for all my white readers), but you should always give her the ride, because if someone breaks into your house, she will tell you who did it and where to find your stuff. From there, you just call Big Jack, and you’ll be straight. Trust me.

Pets

There is one rule you should know about Black people and animals:

They don’t give a fuck about your pets.

White people love dogs. Black people love their dogs. Knowing this can prevent a lot of headaches. If you’re going out of town, don’t ask one of the kids in the neighborhood to pet-sit. Your little Fluffy will die. Also, don’t try to pet dogs in Black neighborhoods. They bite. You might fuck around and lose a finger. Black pets are companions, family members and bodyguards. We like our pets to be racist. The reason Black people have pets is to warn them when white people are approaching. It’s like a pre-doorbell security alarm, because y’all will just pop up at people’s houses without calling. We know how y’all do. You haven’t spoken to your mother since Thanksgiving 1998, but you act like your neighbors are blood relatives.

Also, when your Black neighbor visits you, don’t assume they are cool with your dog greeting them. Again, we love our dogs, not all dogs. It’s a cultural thing that’s kind of y’all’s fault. Between the police dogs biting us during civil rights marches and the drug-sniffing dogs locking up Black people disproportionately, we might need a minute to acclimate.

Police

When living in a Black neighborhood, one must remember the role of police in Black populations. I know that in white habitats, the rule is, the more police, the safer the neighborhood. The converse is true for Black neighborhoods. This is the one area where Black people are politically conservative and believe in small government. You will not find police helping people get cats out of trees or change tires in your new environs. It is partly your responsibility to protect your neighbors and part of this is restricting access to police. If your neighbor is too loud, call him and tell him, don’t involve the police. If you see someone lurking around Miss Mary’s house, call Big Jack.

There is a false belief that Black neighborhoods have a code of silence because “snitches get stitches.” That is propaganda. The only reason we don’t run to law enforcement all willy-nilly is because when they come around, everybody seems to end up with stitches — and not just the snitches.

I was talking to a group of childhood friends the other day, and we were trying to imagine a situation that would warrant calling the police. Someone suggested that they would call the cops if someone they loved was kidnapped … until they were reminded that no one kidnaps Black people. Plus, when white people get snatched off the street, the cops are probably gonna investigate the nearest Black person anyway.

I said I’d call the cops if I ran across a dead body — just so I wouldn’t become a suspect. Then I remembered that Black people are seven times more likely to be wrongfully convicted of murder. Another person said: “What if you overheard someone planning an act of terrorism?” and someone said “Like Black Wall Street?” Then someone said “Like Rosewood?” Then someone said: “Like Wilimington?” Then everybody laughed.

However, we eventually came up with a scenario that warranted calling the police:

If you came home and a wolf was locked in my house.

Now, if I came home and a wolf was in my house, the door would probably be open. If not, I would just open the door and wait for the wolf to come out. Because I am a gun owner, if I were home and a wolf came into my house,  I could handle the situation. But if I came home and a wolf was in my house and the door was locked, it would mean one of two things:

1. Someone had put a wolf in my house.

2. An intelligent wolf had specifically chosen my house.

In the first case, all I need to know is that someone who doesn’t fear wolves knows where I live and wanted to scare me, kill me or just get me to move. Either way, it’s the wolf’s house now.

The only other option is that a super-smart wolf opened my door, went in my house and locked the door behind itself. Wolves are an endangered species, and white people love animals, so you’d probably get in more trouble for shooting a wolf for moving into your house than for shooting a kidnapper or a Black person. Plus, wolves travel in packs, so it would mean more wolves were probably coming.

So, if I came home and found a wolf locked in my house, I’d call the cops and tell them that a Black person was in my house dressed like a wolf. Once the wolf’s body was riddled with bullets, I’d quickly gather my things and move to a Black neighborhood because I’d assume that more wolves were coming.

Look, I‘m not anti-wolf, but I don’t want to live around them. I loved Kevin Garnett when he played for the Timberwolves and “Hungry Like the Wolf” was my favorite song on “Guitar Hero.” But if a wolf moves into my neighborhood, you have to move – not because I hate wolves …

But it’s gotta be hard living around a protected species.

Welcome to the neighborhood!