In the past few days there has been a lively discussion in the 19thWCA yahoo group regarding the problems we have with neighborhood kids who persist in being disrespectful towards us, to the point of making life in the Ward extremely unpleasant.

Unfortunately the discussion itself has become extremely unpleasant, particularly for me. I have no intention of adding to a flame war as that serves no useful purpose and directs problem-solving energies into pointless anger.

But I do have things I need to say, so I will say them here.

The recent discussion prompted me to go back to my earliest posts on this list when I returned to the 19th Ward after 7 years in Marketview Heights.

A key paragraph:

My re-introduction to the 19th ward in less than one week included (aside from very clear messages from roving bands of adolescent males that people of my color don’t belong here) a near-riot of about 50 people @ Post & Chili, several males coming at me screaming “That bitch! That bitch!” while I was trying to get out of my car, a woman performing oral sex on a man who was seated on the trunk of my car (with several other males around her) on Hobart Street at night, and the beautiful beveled glass window on my front door being smashed (Saturday night). And trash-talking (aimed at me), loud music, and dope being smoked on the porch of the vacant apartment in the building next door.

*******

The fact of the matter is that, although these notoriously bad corners continue to produce problems, it is NOTHING LIKE it was when I first moved in. The building next door to me has been occupied and vacant at varying times, but no one dares trespass there any more. And recently it was sold to a woman who will occupy the 2-bedroom unit while renting out the other two apartments. (Know a good family in need of four bedrooms? An individual needing a studio apartment? Right this way, please!)

I had another window smashed with a brick a week after the first one – in broad daylight. But not one instance of vandalism since. I used to remove my porch pots every night & set them out again in the morning, and I would lock my rocking chair to the banister. Now I don’t even think about it.

I still occasionally get the “trash talk,” but it’s not anywhere near as frequent as before – and certainly no one does it underneath my bedroom window as they did before.

What made the difference? Lots of people working together. Police – in the beginning, multiple calls on a daily basis. Getting to know officers. PAC TAC – especially saturations, both bike and foot. Three months of a daily foot patrol in the fall of ‘08. City Hall On the Road in September that year. Meeting after meeting after meeting after meeting. Connecting with the legitimate business owners on the Avenue. Becoming acquainted with others equally unhappy with circumstances. The surveillance cameras. “Zero Tolerance.”

*******

Is everything hunky-dory now? Not by a long shot, in part due to the fact that the landlord at the #1 problem house on Hobart Street doesn’t care who lives there as long as they pay rent. While we have been able to get some of the worst evicted, they get replaced by people equally bad.

And I am tired. Really really really tired. Things started getting particularly out of hand when I finally found a job and I wasn’t home in the afternoons anymore, leaving a very large window for the drug business to thrive again.

Even so, life is ten times better on the Avenue than it was four years ago.

There IS at least one thing over which I have total control, and that is the way I respond to people who attempt to make my life unpleasant.

I have made it clear that I am not afraid. People can shout "bitch" at me and -- at least as far as THEY can see -- it rolls off my back like water off a duck. Yes, inside I'm churning, but outwardly I give no sign of it. As a consequence, any satisfaction they might get from harassing me is out the window.

I walk Chili Avenue as if I own it. And while there are always a few new folks who need to be "trained," most know that intimidation tactics don't work with me, and so they don't bother with them.

One scenario:

I'm walking up to Cuttaia's to get some fresh meat, then go to Henners for some wine, then stop in at Miss Sweet Potatoe Pie to visit "Miss Sweet" and the kids, and later drop in at Honey Child Productions to shoot the breeze with the owner.

A group of about 6-8 "young toughs" are gathered in front of Henners. They decide to stay put, leaving me little choice. I can turn around. I can ask them to move out of my way - and it's possible (likely?) that they will mouth off to me, with intent to engage me in a verbal battle. Or...

I find a space between them. I smile, say "excuse me" and pass through, coming within inches. I ASSUME I have a right to the sidewalk and behave accordingly. I allow not a single hint of fear.

I go into Cuttaia's, make my purchases, and then it's back out to the sidewalk. Funny thing. The entire group has disappeared.

No doubt my reputation on this street helps a lot. EVERYBODY knows I work closely with police. Some maintain the absurd belief that I am a cop myself. So when I walk down the Avenue with confidence, that confidence is based on the fact I know I have 'backup" and THEY know it, too.

I don't propose those strategies as something others SHOULD do. What works for me may not work for others. Contrary to what a lot of people seem to think, I'm not telling anyone else what to do, nor feeling superior because this works for me.

This is NOT a lecture. It is just one person's experience being thrown into the pool with others'.